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diff --git a/3361-0.txt b/3361-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..88e35f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/3361-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,28289 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The PG Edition of Chesterfield’s Letters to +His Son, by The Earl of Chesterfield + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The PG Edition of Chesterfield’s Letters to His Son + +Author: The Earl of Chesterfield + +Release Date: October 12, 2004 [EBook #3361] +Last Updated: August 8, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS TO HIS SON *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + LETTERS TO HIS SON + + 1746-1747 + + By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + + on the Fine Art of becoming a + + MAN OF THE WORLD + + and a + + GENTLEMAN + + + +PG Editor’s Notes: + +O. S. and N. S.: On consultation with several specialists I have learned +that the abbreviations O. S. and N. S. relate to the difference between +the old Julian calender used in England and the Gregorian calender which +was the standard in Europe. In the mid 18th century it is said that this +once amounted to a difference of eleven days. To keep track of the +chronology of letters back and forth from England to France or other +countries in mainland Europe, Chesterfield inserted in dates the +designation O. S. (old style) and N. S. (new style). + +Chesterfield demonstrates his classical education by frequent words and +sometimes entire paragraphs in various languages. In the 1901 text these +were in italics; in this etext edition I have substituted single +quotation marks around these, as in ‘bon mot’, and not attempted to +include the various accent marks of all the languages. + +Only obvious typographical errors have been corrected. The original and +occasionally variable spelling is retained throughout. +D.W. + + + + +SPECIAL INTRODUCTION + +The proud Lord Chesterfield would have turned in his grave had he known +that he was to go down to posterity as a teacher and preacher of the +gospel of not grace, but--“the graces, the graces, the graces.” Natural +gifts, social status, open opportunities, and his ambition, all conspired +to destine him for high statesmanship. If anything was lacking in his +qualifications, he had the pluck and good sense to work hard and +persistently until the deficiency was made up. Something remained +lacking, and not all his consummate mastery of arts could conceal that +conspicuous want,--the want of heart. + +Teacher and preacher he assuredly is, and long will be, yet no thanks are +his due from a posterity of the common people whom he so sublimely +despised. His pious mission was not to raise the level of the multitude, +but to lift a single individual upon a pedestal so high that his lowly +origin should not betray itself. That individual was his, Lord +Chesterfield’s, illegitimate son, whose inferior blood should be given +the true blue hue by concentrating upon him all the externals of +aristocratic education. + +Never had pupil so devoted, persistent, lavish, and brilliant a guide, +philosopher, and friend, for the parental relation was shrewdly merged in +these. Never were devotion and uphill struggle against doubts of success +more bitterly repaid. Philip Stanhope was born in 1732, when his father +was thirty-eight. He absorbed readily enough the solids of the ideal +education supplied him, but, by perversity of fate, he cared not a fig +for “the graces, the graces, the graces,” which his father so wisely +deemed by far the superior qualities to be cultivated by the budding +courtier and statesman. A few years of minor services to his country were +rendered, though Chesterfield was breaking his substitute for a heart +because his son could not or would not play the superfine gentleman--on +the paternal model, and then came the news of his death, when only +thirty-six. What was a still greater shock to the lordly father, now +deaf, gouty, fretful, and at outs with the world, his informant reported +that she had been secretly married for several years to Young Hopeful, +and was left penniless with two boys. Lord Chesterfield was above all +things a practical philosopher, as hard and as exquisitely rounded and +polished as a granite column. He accepted the vanishing of his lifelong +dream with the admirable stolidity of a fatalist, and in those last days +of his radically artificial life he disclosed a welcome tenderness, a +touch of the divine, none the less so for being common duty, shown in the +few brief letters to his son’s widow and to “our boys.” This, and his +enviable gift of being able to view the downs as well as the ups of life +in the consoling humorous light, must modify the sterner judgment so +easily passed upon his characteristic inculcation, if not practice, of +heartlessness. + +The thirteenth-century mother church in the town from which Lord +Chesterfield’s title came has a peculiar steeple, graceful in its lines, +but it points askew, from whatever quarter it is seen. The writer of +these Letters, which he never dreamed would be published, is the best +self-portrayed Gentleman in literature. In everything he was naturally a +stylist, perfected by assiduous art, yet the graceful steeple is somehow +warped out of the beauty of the perpendicular. His ideal Gentleman is the +frigid product of a rigid mechanical drill, with the mien of a posture +master, the skin-deep graciousness of a French Marechal, the calculating +adventurer who cuts unpretentious worthies to toady to society magnates, +who affects the supercilious air of a shallow dandy and cherishes the +heart of a frog. True, he repeatedly insists on the obligation of +truthfulness in all things, and of, honor in dealing with the world. His +Gentleman may; nay, he must, sail with the stream, gamble in moderation +if it is the fashion, must stoop to wear ridiculous clothes and ornaments +if they are the mode, though despising his weakness all to himself, and +no true Gentleman could afford to keep out of the little gallantries +which so effectively advertised him as a man of spirit sad charm. Those +repeated injunctions of honor are to be the rule, subject to these +exceptions, which transcend the common proprieties when the subject is +the rising young gentleman of the period and his goal social success. If +an undercurrent of shady morality is traceable in this Chesterfieldian +philosophy it must, of course, be explained away by the less perfect +moral standard of his period as compared with that of our day. Whether +this holds strictly true of men may be open to discussion, but his +lordship’s worldly instructions as to the utility of women as +stepping-stones to favor in high places are equally at variance with the +principles he so impressively inculcates and with modern conceptions of +social honor. The externals of good breeding cannot be over-estimated, if +honestly come by, nor is it necessary to examine too deeply into the +prime motives of those who urge them upon a generation in whose eyes +matter is more important than manner. Superficial refinement is better +than none, but the Chesterfield pulpit cannot afford to shirk the duty of +proclaiming loud and far that the only courtesy worthy of respect is that +‘politesse de coeur,’ the politeness of the heart, which finds expression +in consideration for others as the ruling principle of conduct. This +militates to some extent against the assumption of fine airs without the +backing of fine behavior, and if it tends to discourage the effort to use +others for selfish ends, it nevertheless pays better in the long run. + +Chesterfield’s frankness in so many confessions of sharp practice almost +merits his canonization as a minor saint of society. Dr. Johnson has +indeed placed him on a Simeon Stylites pillar, an immortality of penance +from which no good member of the writers’ guild is likely to pray his +deliverance. He commends the fine art and high science of dissimulation +with the gusto of an apostle and the authority of an expert. Dissimulate, +but do not simulate, disguise your real sentiments, but do not falsify +them. Go through the world with your eyes and ears open and mouth mostly +shut. When new or stale gossip is brought to you, never let on that you +know it already, nor that it really interests you. The reading of these +Letters is better than hearing the average comedy, in which the wit of a +single sentence of Chesterfield suffices to carry an act. His +man-of-the-world philosophy is as old as the Proverbs of Solomon, but +will always be fresh and true, and enjoyable at any age, thanks to his +pithy expression, his unfailing common sense, his sparkling wit and +charming humor. This latter gift shows in the seeming lapses from his +rigid rule requiring absolute elegance of expression at all times, when +an unexpected coarseness, in some provincial colloquialism, crops out +with picturesque force. The beau ideal of superfineness occasionally +enjoys the bliss of harking back to mother English. + +Above all the defects that can be charged against the Letters, there +rises the substantial merit of an honest effort to exalt the gentle in +woman and man--above the merely genteel. “He that is gentil doeth gentil +deeds,” runs the mediaeval saying which marks the distinction between the +genuine and the sham in behavior. A later age had it thus: “Handsome is +as handsome does,” and in this larger sense we have agreed to accept the +motto of William of Wykeham, which declares that “Manners maketh Man.” + OLIVER H. G. LEIGH + + + + +LETTER I + +BATH, October 9, O. S. 1746 + +DEAR BOY: Your distresses in your journey from Heidelberg to +Schaffhausen, 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 +indifference; 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 ‘vivida 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, +without the desire and attention necessary to please, you never can +please. ‘Nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia,’ is unquestionably true, +with regard to everything except poetry; and I am very sure that any man +of common understanding may, by proper culture, care, attention, and +labor, make himself whatever he pleases, except a good poet. Your +destination is the great and busy world; your immediate object is the +affairs, the interests, and the history, the constitutions, the customs, +and the manners of the several parts of Europe. In this, any man of +common sense may, by common application, be sure to excel. Ancient and +modern history are, by attention, easily attainable. Geography and +chronology the same, none of them requiring any uncommon share of genius +or invention. Speaking and Writing, clearly, correctly, and with ease and +grace, are certainly to be acquired, by reading the best authors with +care, and by attention to the best living models. These are the +qualifications more particularly necessary for you, in your department, +which you may be possessed of, if you please; and which, I tell you +fairly, I shall be very angry at you, if you are not; because, as you +have the means in your hands, it will be your own fault only. + +If care and application are necessary to the acquiring of those +qualifications, without which you can never be 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; 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, whom yesterday he +appeared to live in intimacy with. He takes no part in the general +conversation; but, on the contrary, breaks into it from time to time, +with some start of his own, as if he waked from a dream. This (as I said +before) is a sure indication, either of a mind so weak that it is not +able to bear above one object at a time; or so affected, that it would be +supposed to be wholly engrossed by, and directed to, some very great and +important objects. Sir Isaac Newton, Mr. Locke, and (it may be) five or +six more, since the creation of the world, may have had a right to +absence, from that intense thought which the things they were +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 involuntary 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 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! + + + + +LETTER II + +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 yourself daily of the nature of the +government and constitution of the Thirteen Cantons; and as I am ignorant +of them myself, 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, though, I believe, no essential +difference, in the governments of the several Cantons, I would not give +you the trouble of informing yourself of each of them; but confine my +inquiries, as you may your informations, to the Canton you reside in, +that of Berne, which I take to 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 ches Monsieur Wolters, Agent de S. M. Britanique, 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 Grevenkop was that we directed +them to Lausanne, where we thought you long ago: and we thought it to no +purpose to direct to you upon your ROUTE, where it was little likely that +our letters would meet with you. But you have, since your arrival at +Lausanne, I believe, found letters enough from me; and it may be more +than you have read, at least with attention. + +I am glad that you like Switzerland so well; and am impatient to hear how +other matters go, after your settlement at Lausanne. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER III + +LONDON, December 2, O.S. 1746. + +DEAR BOY: I have not, in my present situation,--[His Lordship was, in the +year 1746, appointed one of his Majesty’s secretaries of state.]--time +to write to you, either so much or so often as I used, while I was in a +place of much more leisure and 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 which you gave 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; because going up hill +and down will keep you warm. You say there is a good deal of good +company; pray, are you got into it? Have you made acquaintances, and with +whom? Let me know some of their names. Do you learn German yet, to read, +write, and speak it? + +Yesterday, I saw a letter from Monsieur Bochat to a friend of mine; which +gave me the greatest pleasure that I have felt this great while; because +it gives so very good an account of you. Among other things which +Monsieur Bochat says to your advantage, he mentions the tender uneasiness +and concern that you showed during my illness, for which (though I will +say that you owe it to me) I am obliged to you: sentiments of gratitude +not being universal, nor even common. As your affection for me can only +proceed from your experience and conviction of my fondness for you (for +to talk of natural affection is talking nonsense), the only return I +desire is, what it is chiefly your interest to make me; I mean your +invariable practice of virtue, and your indefatigable pursuit of +knowledge. Adieu! and be persuaded that I shall love you extremely, while +you deserve it; but not one moment longer. + + + + +LETTER IV + +LONDON, December 9, O. S. 1746. + +DEAR BOY: Though I have very little time, and though I write by this post +to Mr. Harte, yet I cannot send a packet to Lausanne without a word or +two to yourself. I thank you for your letter of congratulation which you +wrote me, notwithstanding the pain it gave you. The accident that caused +the pain was, I presume, owing to that degree of giddiness, of which I +have sometimes taken the liberty to speak to you. The post I am now in, +though the object of most people’s views and desires, was in some degree +inflicted upon me; and a certain concurrence of circumstances obliged me +to engage in it. But I feel that to go through with it requires more +strength of body and mind than I have: were you three or four years +older; you should share in my trouble, and I would have taken you into my +office; but I hope you will employ these three or four years so well as +to make yourself capable of being of use to me, if I should continue in +it so long. The 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 immediate one. + +I hope you employ your whole time, which few people do; and that you put +every moment to, profit of some kind or other. I call company, walking, +riding, etc., employing one’s time, and, upon proper occasions, very +usefully; but what I cannot forgive in anybody is sauntering, and doing +nothing at all, with a thing so precious as time, and so irrecoverable +when lost. + +Are you acquainted with any ladies at Lausanne? and do you behave +yourself with politeness enough to make them desire your company? + +I must finish: God bless you! + + + + +LETTER V + +LONDON, February 24, O. S. 1747 + +SIR: In order that we may, reciprocally, keep up our French, which, for +want of practice, we might forget; you will permit me to have the honor +of assuring you of my respects in that language: and be so good to answer +me in the same. Not that I am apprehensive of your forgetting to speak +French: since it is probable that two-thirds of our daily prattle is in +that language; and because, if you leave off writing French, you may +perhaps neglect that grammatical purity, and accurate orthography, which, +in other languages, you excel in; and really, even in French, it is +better to write well than ill. However, as this is a language very proper +for sprightly, gay subjects, I shall conform to that, and reserve those +which are serious for English. I shall not therefore mention to you, at +present, your Greek or Latin, your study of the Law of Nature, or the Law +of Nations, the Rights of People, or of Individuals; but rather discuss +the subject of your Amusements and Pleasures; for, to say the truth, one +must have some. May I be permitted to inquire of what nature yours are? +Do they consist in little commercial play at cards in good company? are +they little agreeable suppers, at which cheerfulness and decency are +united? or, do you pay court to some fair one, who requires such +attentions as may be of use in contributing to polish you? Make me your +confidant upon this subject; you shall not find a severe censor: on the +contrary, I wish to obtain the employment of minister to your pleasures: +I will point them out, and even contribute to them. + +Many young people adopt pleasures, for which they have not the least +taste, only because they are called by that name. They often mistake so +totally, as to imagine that debauchery is pleasure. You must allow that +drunkenness, which is equally destructive to body and mind, is a fine +pleasure. Gaming, that draws you into a thousand scrapes, leaves you +penniless, and gives you the air and manners of an outrageous madman, is +another most exquisite pleasure; is it not? As to running after women, +the consequences of that vice are only the loss of one’s nose, the total +destruction of health, and, not unfrequently, the being run through the +body. + +These, you see, are all trifles; yet this is the catalogue of pleasures +of most of those young people, who never reflecting themselves, adopt, +indiscriminately, what others choose to call by the seducing name of +pleasure. I am thoroughly persuaded you will not fall into such errors; +and that, in the choice of your amusements, you will be directed by +reason, and a discerning taste. The true pleasures of a gentleman are +those of the table, but within the bound of moderation; good company, +that is to say, people of merit; moderate play, which amuses, without any +interested views; and sprightly gallant conversations with women of +fashion and sense. + +These are the real pleasures of a gentleman; which occasion neither +sickness, shame, nor repentance. Whatever exceeds them, becomes low vice, +brutal passion, debauchery, and insanity of, mind; all of which, far from +giving satisfaction, bring on dishonor and disgrace. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER VI + +LONDON, March 6, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: Whatever you do, will always affect me, very sensibly, one way +or another; and I am now most agreeably affected, by two letters, which I +have lately seen from Lausanne, upon your subject; the one from Madame +St. Germain, the other from Monsieur Pampigny: they both give so good an +account of you, that I thought myself obliged, in justice both to them +and, to you, to let you know it. Those who deserve a good character, +ought to have the satisfaction of knowing that they have it, both as a +reward and as an encouragement. They write, that you are not only +‘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 behavior and +address, are of infinitely more advantage than they are generally thought +to be, especially here in England. Virtue and learning, like gold, have +their intrinsic value but if they are not polished, they certainly lose a +great deal of their luster; and even polished brass will pass upon more +people than rough gold. What a number of sins does the cheerful, easy +good-breeding of the French frequently cover? Many of them want common +sense, many more common learning; but in general, they make up so much by +their manner, for those defects, that frequently they pass 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 given you. Learning you already +possess enough of, to have, in a reasonable time, all that a man need +have. With this, you are thrown out early into the world, where it will +be your own fault if you do not acquire all, the other accomplishments +necessary to complete and adorn your character. You will do well to make +your compliments to Madame St. Germain and Monsieur 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. + + + + +LETTER VII + +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 whoremaster, and a +profligate swearer and curser. As it may be of use to you. I am not +unwilling, though at the same time ashamed to own, that the vices of my +youth proceeded much more from my silly resolution of being, what I heard +called a man of pleasure, than from my own inclinations. I always +naturally hated drinking; and yet I have often drunk; with disgust at the +time, attended by great sickness the next day, only because I then +considered drinking as a necessary qualification for a fine gentleman, +and a man of pleasure. + +The same as to gaming. I did not want money, and consequently had no +occasion to play for it; but I thought play another necessary ingredient +in the composition of a man of pleasure, and accordingly I plunged into +it without desire, at first; sacrificed a thousand real pleasures to it; +and made myself solidly uneasy by it, for thirty the best years of my +life. + +I was even absurd enough, for a little while, to swear, by way of +adorning and completing the shining character which I affected; but this +folly I soon laid aside, upon finding berth the guilt and the indecency +of it. + +Thus seduced by fashion, and blindly adopting nominal pleasures, I lost +real ones; and my fortune impaired, and my constitution shattered, are, I +must confess, the just punishment of my errors. + +Take warning then by them: choose your pleasures for yourself, 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 pleasures. I would +enjoy the pleasures of the table, and of wine; but stop short of the +pains inseparably annexed to an excess of either. I would not, at twenty +years, be a preaching missionary of abstemiousness and sobriety; and I +should let other people do as they would, without formally and +sententiously rebuking them for it; but I would be most firmly resolved +not to destroy my own faculties and constitution; in complaisance to +those who have no regard to their own. I would play to give me pleasure, +but not to give me pain; that is, I would play for 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 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 a whoremaster +with half a nose, and crippled by coarse and infamous debauchery? No; +those who practice, and much more those who brag of them, make no part of +good company; and are most unwillingly, if ever, admitted into it. A real +man of fashion and pleasures observes decency: at least neither borrows +nor affects vices: and if he unfortunately has any, he gratifies them +with choice, delicacy, and secrecy. + +I have not mentioned the pleasures of the mind (which are the solid and +permanent ones); because they do not come under the head of what people +commonly call pleasures; which they seem to confine to the senses. The +pleasure of virtue, of charity, and of learning is true and lasting +pleasure; with which I hope you will be well and long acquainted. Adieu! + + + + +LETTER VIII + +LONDON, April 3, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: If I am rightly informed, I am now writing to a fine gentleman, +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 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 cooperate 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 notwithstanding that, by your +account, the Swiss salt is (I dare say) very good, yet I am apt to +suspect that it falls a little short of the true Attic salt in which +there was a peculiar quickness and delicacy. That same Attic salt +seasoned almost all Greece, except Boeotia, and a great deal of it was +exported afterward to Rome, where it was 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. + + + + +LETTER IX + +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 +favor from Mr. Harte, I shall have little occasion to exhort or admonish +you any more to do what your own satisfaction and self love will +sufficiently prompt you to. Mr. Harte tells me that you attend, that you +apply to your studies; and that beginning to understand, you begin to +taste them. This pleasure will increase, and keep pace with your +attention; so that the balance will be greatly to your advantage. You may +remember, that I have always earnestly recommended to you, to do what you +are about, be that what it will; and to do nothing else at the same time. +Do not imagine that I mean by this, that you should attend to and plod at +your book all day long; far from it; I mean that you should have your +pleasures too; and that you should attend to them for the time; as much +as to your studies; and, if you do not attend equally to both, you will +neither have improvement nor satisfaction from either. A man is fit for +neither business nor pleasure, who either cannot, or does not, command +and direct his attention to the present 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 everything, in +the course of the day, if you do but one thing at once; but there is not +time enough in the year, if you will do 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 only doing one thing at a time, and never putting off anything till +to-morrow that could be done to-day. This steady and undissipated +attention to one object is a sure mark of a superior genius; as hurry, +bustle, and agitation are the never-failing symptoms of a weak and +frivolous mind. When you read Horace, attend to the justness of his +thoughts, the happiness of his diction, and the beauty of his poetry; and +do not think of Puffendorf de Homine el Cive; and, when you are reading +Puffendorf, do not think of Madame de St. Germain; nor of Puffendorf, +when you are talking to Madame de St. Germain. + +Mr. Harte informs me, that he has reimbursed you of part of your losses +in Germany; and I consent to his reimbursing you of 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 Codere entitled, +‘Maniere de bien penser dans les Ouvrages d’Esprit,’ written by Pyre +Bonhours. I wish you would read this book again at your leisure hours, +for it will not only divert you, but likewise form your taste, and give +you a just manner of thinking. Adieu! + + + + +LETTER X + +LONDON, June 30, O. S. 1747 + +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 written, 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 has wrote his travels through Switzerland; and Mr. Stanyan, +from a long residence there, has written the best account, yet extant, of +the Thirteen Cantons; but those books will be read no more, I presume, +after you shall have published your account of that country. I hope you +will favor me with one of the first copies. To be serious; though I do +not desire that you should immediately turn author, and oblige the world +with your travels; yet, wherever you go, I would have you as curious and +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, signposts, and tombstones, 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 to whom it belongs, or in what +manner: whether it has any peculiar privileges or customs; what trade or +manufactures; and such other particulars as people of sense desire to +know. And there would be no manner of harm if you were to take +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. + + + + +LETTER XI + +LONDON, July 20, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: In your Mamma’s letter, which goes here inclosed, you will find +one from my sister, to thank you for the Arquebusade water which you sent +her; and which she takes very kindly. She would not show me her letter to +you; but told me that it contained good wishes and good advice; and, as I +know she will show your letter in answer to hers, I send you here +inclosed the draught of the letter which I would have you write to her. I +hope you will not be offended at my offering you my 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, and +Comte Bussy Rebutin. Cicero’s Epistles to Atticus, and to his familiar +friends, are the best examples that you can imitate, in the friendly and +the familiar style. The simplicity and the clearness of Cardinal +d’Ossat’s letters show how letters of business ought to be written; no +affected turns, no attempts at wit, obscure or perplex his matter; which +is always plainly and clearly stated, as business always should be. For +gay and amusing letters, for ‘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 in your itinerant library; it +will both amuse and inform you. + +I have not time to add any more now; so good night. + + + + +LETTER XII + +LONDON, July 30, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: It is now four posts since I have received any letter, either +from you or from Mr. Harte. I impute this to the rapidity of your travels +through Switzerland; which I suppose are by this time finished. + +You will have found by my late letters, both to you and Mr. Harte, that +you are to be at Leipsig by next Michaelmas; where you will be lodged in +the house of Professor Mascow, and boarded in the neighborhood of it, +with some young men of fashion. The professor will read you lectures upon +‘Grotius de Jure Belli et Pacis,’ the ‘Institutes of Justinian’ and the +‘Jus Publicum Imperii;’ which I expect that you shall not only hear, but +attend to, and retain. I also expect that you make yourself perfectly +master of the German language; which you may very soon do there, if you +please. I give you fair warning, that at Leipsig I shall have an hundred +invisible spies about you; and shall be exactly informed of everything +that you do, and of almost everything that you say. I hope that, in +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 +introduced. The King of Poland and his Court go likewise to the fair at +Leipsig twice a year; and I shall write to Sir Charles Williams, the +king’s minister there, to have you presented, and introduced into good +company. But I must remind you, at the same time, that it will be to a +very little purpose for you to frequent good company, if you do not +conform to, and learn their manners; if you are not attentive to please, +and well bred, with the easiness of a man of fashion. As you must 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 from want of care when I was your age. Do you dress well, and not +too well? Do you consider your air and manner of presenting yourself +enough, and not too much? Neither negligent nor stiff? All these things +deserve a degree of care, a second-rate attention; they give an +additional lustre to real merit. My Lord Bacon says, that a pleasing +figure is a perpetual letter of recommendation. It is certainly an +agreeable forerunner of merit, and smoothes the way for it. + +Remember that I shall see you at Hanover next summer, and shall expect +perfection; which if I do not meet with, or at least something very near +it, you and I shall, not be very well together. I shall dissect and +analyze you with a microscope; so that I shall discover the least speck +or blemish. This is fair warning; therefore take your measures +accordingly. Yours. + + + + +LETTER XIII + +LONDON, August 21, 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, to the +emperor; in France nobody bows at all to the king, nor kisses his hand; +but in Spain and England, bows are made, and hands are kissed. Thus every +court has some peculiarity or other, of which those who go to them ought +previously to inform themselves, to avoid blunders and awkwardnesses. + +I have not time to say any more now, than to wish you good journey to +Leipsig; and great attention, both there and in going there. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XIV + +LONDON, September 21, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: I received, by the last post, your letter of the 8th, N. S., +and I do not wonder that you are surprised at the credulity and +superstition of the Papists at Einsiedlen, and at their absurd stories of +their chapel. But remember, at the same time, that errors and mistakes, +however gross, in matters of opinion, if they are sincere, are to be +pitied, but not punished nor laughed at. The blindness of the +understanding is as much to be pitied as the blindness of the eye; and +there is neither jest nor guilt in a man’s losing his way in either case. +Charity bids us set him right if we can, by arguments and 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 afterward, to the disadvantage of that +person, however true, passes for calumny. If I lie, or equivocate (for it +is the same thing), in order to excuse myself for something that I have +said or done, and to avoid the danger and the shame 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 something noble in frankly owning it; it is the only +way of atoning for it, and the only way of being forgiven. Equivocating, +evading, shuffling, in order to remove a present danger or inconveniency, +is something so mean, and betrays so much fear, that whoever practices +them always deserves to be, and often will be kicked. There is another +sort of lies, inoffensive enough in themselves, but wonderfully +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 honor to their author. He is always the hero of his own +romances; he has been in dangers from which nobody but himself ever +escaped; he has seen with his own eyes, whatever other people have heard +or read of: he has had more ‘bonnes fortunes’ than ever he knew women; +and has ridden more miles post in one day, than ever courier went in two. +He is soon discovered, and as soon becomes the object of 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 +conscience or your honor 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 narrowly; and will never forget nor forgive those +faults, which it has been in your own power to prevent or cure; and be +assured that I have many eyes upon you at Leipsig, besides Mr. Harte’s. +Adieu! + + + + +LETTER XV + +LONDON, October 2, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: By your letter of the 18th past, N. S., I find that you are a +tolerably good landscape painter, and can present the several views of +Switzerland to the curious. I am very glad of it, as it is a proof of +some attention; but I hope you will be as good a portrait painter, which +is a much more noble science. By portraits, you will easily judge, that +I do not mean the outlines and the coloring of the human figure; but the +inside of the heart and mind of man. This science requires more +attention, observation, and penetration, than the other; as indeed it is +infinitely more useful. Search, therefore, with the greatest care, into +the characters of those whom you converse with; endeavor to discover +their predominant passions, their prevailing weaknesses, their vanities, +their follies, and their humors, 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 +dust of his closet talks or writes of the world, knows no more of it, +than that orator did of war, who judiciously endeavored to instruct +Hannibal in it. Courts and camps are the only places to learn the world +in. There alone all kinds of characters resort, and human nature is seen +in all the various shapes and modes, which education, custom, and habit +give it; whereas, in all other places, one local mode generally prevails, +and producing a seeming though not a real sameness of character. For +example, one general mode distinguishes an university, another a trading +town, a third a seaport town, and so on; whereas, at a capital, where the +Prince or the Supreme Power resides, some of all these various modes are +to be seen and seen in action too, exerting their utmost skill in 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 every country; but good-breeding, as it is called, which is +the manner of exerting that disposition, is different in almost every +country, and merely local; and every man of sense imitates and conforms +to that local good-breeding of the place which he is at. A conformity +and flexibility of manners is necessary in the course of the world; that +is, with regard to all things which are not wrong in themselves. The +‘versatile ingenium’ is the most useful of all. It can turn itself +instantly from one object to another, assuming the proper manner for +each. It can be serious with the grave, cheerful with the gay, and +trifling with the frivolous. Endeavor by all means, to acquire this +talent, for it is a very great one. + +As I hardly know anything more useful, than to see, from time to time, +pictures of one’s self drawn by 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. + + + + +LETTER XVI + +LONDON, October 9, O. S. 1747. + +DEAR BOY: People of your age have, commonly, an unguarded frankness about +them; which makes them the easy prey and bubbles of the artful and the +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 indiscreet and unbounded confidence, always to their +loss, often to their ruin. Beware, therefore, now that you are coming +into the world, of these preferred friendships. Receive them with great +civility, but with great incredulity too; and pay them with compliments, +but not with confidence. Do not let your vanity and self-love make you +suppose that people become your friends at first sight, or even upon a +short acquaintance. Real friendship is a slow grower and never thrives +unless engrafted 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 +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 the impudence and folly to call +this confederacy a friendship. They lend one another money, for bad +purposes; they engage in quarrels, offensive and defensive for their +accomplices; they tell one another all they know, and often more too, +when, of a sudden, some accident disperses them, and they think no more +of each other, unless it be to betray and laugh, at their imprudent +confidence. Remember to make a great difference between companions and +friends; for a very complaisant and agreeable companion may, and often +does, prove a very improper and a very dangerous friend. People will, in +a great degree, and not without reason, form their opinion of you, upon +that which they have of your friends; and there is a Spanish proverb, +which says very justly, TELL ME WHO YOU LIVE WITH AND I WILL TELL YOU WHO +YOU ARE. One may fairly suppose, that the man who makes a knave or a fool +his friend, has something very bad to do or to conceal. But, at the same +time that you carefully decline the friendship of knaves and fools, if it +can be called friendship, there is no occasion to make either of them +your enemies, wantonly and unprovoked; for they are numerous bodies: and +I, would rather choose a secure 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 many imprudently communicative of all they +know. + +The next thing to the choice of your friends, is the choice of your +company. Endeavor, as much as you can, to keep company with people above +you: there you rise, as much as you sink with people below you; for (as I +have mentioned before) you are whatever the company you keep is. Do not +mistake, when I say company above you, and think that I mean with regard +to, their birth: that is the least consideration; but I mean with regard +to their merit, and the light in which the world considers them. + +There are two sorts of good company; one, which is called the beau monde, +and consists of the people who have the lead in courts, and in the gay +parts of life; the other consists of those who are distinguished by some +peculiar merit, or who excel in some particular and valuable art or +science. For my own part, I used to think myself in 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 honored 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 quicker than +that wrong turn. + +You may possibly ask me, whether a man has it always in his power to get +the best company? and how? I say, Yes, he has, by deserving it; providing +he is but in 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, politeness and +good-breeding are absolutely necessary to adorn any, or all other good +qualities or talents. Without them, no knowledge, no perfection whatever, +is seen in its best light. The scholar, without good-breeding, is a +pedant; the philosopher, a cynic; the soldier, a brute; and every man +disagreeable. + +I long to hear, from my several correspondents at Leipsig, of your +arrival there, and what impression you make on them at first; for I have +Arguses, with an hundred eyes each, who will watch you narrowly, and +relate to me faithfully. My accounts will certainly be true; it depends +upon you, entirely, of what kind they shall be. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XVII + +LONDON, October 16, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: The art of pleasing is a very necessary one to possess; but a +very difficult one to acquire. It can hardly be reduced to rules; and +your own good sense and observation will teach you more of it than I can. +Do as you would be done by, is the surest method that I know of pleasing. +Observe carefully what pleases you in others, and probably the same thing +in you will please others. If you are pleased with the complaisance and +attention of others to your humors, 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 humor of the company; this is an attention due +from every individual to the majority. Do not tell stories in company; +there is nothing more tedious and 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 shortness 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 display them in company; nor labor, as many +people do, to give that turn to the conversation, which may supply you +with an opportunity of exhibiting them. If they are real, they will +infallibly be discovered, without your pointing them out yourself, and +with much more advantage. Never maintain an argument with heat and +clamor, though you think or know yourself to be in the right: but give +your opinion modestly and coolly, which is the only way to convince; and, +if that does not do, try to change the conversation, by saying, with good +humor, “We shall hardly convince one another, nor is it necessary that we +should, so let us talk of something else.” + +Remember that there is a local propriety to be observed in all companies; +and that what is extremely proper in one company, may be, and often is, +highly improper in another. + +The jokes, the ‘bonmots,’ the little adventures, which may do very well +in one company, will seem flat and tedious, when related in another. The +particular characters, the habits, the cant of one company, may give +merit to a word, or a gesture, which would have none at all if divested +of those accidental circumstances. Here people very commonly err; and +fond of something that has entertained them in one company, and in +certain circumstances, repeat it with emphasis in another, where it is +either insipid, or, it may be, offensive, by being ill-timed or +misplaced. Nay, they often do it with this silly preamble; “I will tell +you an excellent thing”; or, “I will tell you the best thing in the +world.” This raises expectations, which, when absolutely disappointed, +make the relater 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, endeavor to find out the predominant +excellency, if they have one, and their prevailing 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, Cardinal Richelieu, who +was undoubtedly the ablest statesman of his time, or perhaps of any +other, had the idle vanity of being thought the best poet too; he envied +the great Corneille his reputation, and ordered a criticism to be written +upon the “Cid.” Those, therefore, who flattered skillfully, said little +to him of his abilities in state affairs, or at least but ‘en passant,’ +and as it might naturally occur. But the incense which they gave him, the +smoke of which they knew would turn his head in their favor, was as a +‘bel esprit’ and a poet. Why? Because he was sure of one excellency, and +distrustful as to the other. You will easily discover every man’s +prevailing vanity, by observing his favorite topic of conversation; for +every man talks most of what he has most a mind to be thought to excel +in. Touch him but there, and you touch him to the quick. The late Sir +Robert Walpole (who was certainly an able man) was little open to +flattery upon that head; for he was in no doubt himself about it; but his +prevailing weakness was, to be thought to have a polite and happy turn to +gallantry; of which he had undoubtedly less than any man living: it was +his favorite and frequent subject of conversation: which proved, to those +who had any penetration, that it was his prevailing weakness. And they +applied to it with success. + +Women have, in general, but one object, which is their beauty; upon +which, scarce any flattery is too gross for them to swallow. Nature has +hardly formed a woman ugly enough to be insensible to flattery upon her +person; if her face is so shocking, that she must in some degree, be +conscious of it, her figure and her air, she trusts, make ample amends +for it. If her figure is deformed, her face, she thinks, counterbalances +it. If they are both bad, she comforts herself that she has graces; a +certain manner; a ‘je ne sais quoi,’ still more engaging than beauty. +This truth is evident, from the studied and elaborate dress of the +ugliest women in the world. An undoubted, uncontested, conscious beauty, +is of all women, the least sensible of flattery upon that head; she knows +that it is her due, and is therefore obliged to nobody for giving it her. +She must be flattered upon her understanding; which, though she may +possibly not doubt of herself, yet she suspects that men may distrust. + +Do not mistake me, and think that I mean to 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 +handsomer than they really are, their error is a comfortable one to +themselves, and an innocent one with regard to other people; and I would +rather make them my friends, by indulging them in it, than my enemies, by +endeavoring (and that to no purpose) to undeceive them. + +There are little attentions likewise, which are infinitely engaging, and +which sensibly affect that degree of pride and self-love, which is +inseparable from human nature; as they are unquestionable proofs of the +regard and consideration which we have for the person to whom we pay +them. As, for example, to observe the little habits, the likings, the +antipathies, and the tastes of those whom we would gain; and then take +care to provide them with the one, and to secure them from the other; +giving them, genteelly, to understand, that you had observed that they +liked such a dish, or such a room; for which reason you had prepared it: +or, on the contrary, that having observed they had an 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 +more than greater things, as it makes people think themselves almost the +only objects of your thoughts and care. + +These are some of the arcana necessary for your 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. + + + + +LETTER XVIII + +LONDON, October 30, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: I am very well pleased with your ‘Itinerarium,’ which you sent +me from Ratisbon. It shows me that you observe and inquire as you go, +which is the true end of traveling. Those who travel heedlessly from +place to place, observing only their distance from each other, and +attending only to their accommodation at the inn at night, set out fools, +and will certainly return so. Those who only mind the raree-shows of the +places which they go through, such as steeples, clocks, town-houses, +etc., get so little by their travels, that they might as well stay at +home. But those who observe, and inquire into the situations, the +strength, the weakness, the trade, the manufactures, the government, and +constitution of every place they go to; who frequent the best companies, +and attend to their several manners and characters; those alone travel +with advantage; and as they set out wise, return wiser. + +I would advise you always to get the shortest description or history of +every place where you make any stay; and such a book, however imperfect, +will still suggest to you matter for inquiry; upon which you may get +better informations from the people of the place. For example; while you +are at Leipsig, get some short account (and to be sure there are many +such) of the present state of the town, with regard to its magistrates, +its police, its privileges, etc., and then inform yourself more minutely +upon all those heads in, conversation with the most intelligent people. +Do the same thing afterward with regard to the Electorate of Saxony: you +will find a short history of it in Puffendorf’s 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 everything; listlessness and indolence are always blameable, but, at +your age, they are unpardonable. Consider how precious, and how important +for all the rest of your life, are your moments for these next three or +four years; and do not lose one of them. Do not think I mean that you +should study all day long; I am far from advising or desiring it: but I +desire that you would be doing something or other all day long; and not +neglect half hours and quarters of hours, which, at the year’s end, +amount to a great sum. For instance, there are many short intervals +during the day, between studies and pleasures: instead of sitting idle +and yawning, in those intervals, take up any book, though ever so +trifling a one, even down to a jest-book; it is still better than doing +nothing. + +Nor do I call pleasures idleness, or time lost, provided they are the +pleasures of a rational being; on the contrary, a certain portion of your +time, employed in those pleasures, is very usefully employed. Such are +public spectacles, assemblies of good company, cheerful suppers, and even +balls; but then, these require attention, or else your time is quite +lost. + +There are a great many people, who think themselves employed all day, and +who, if they were to cast up their accounts at night, would find that +they had done just 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 afterward, it may be, to the play, where they gape +at the company and the lights; but without minding the very thing they +went to, the play. + +Pray do you be as attentive to your pleasures as to your studies. In the +latter, observe and reflect upon all you read; and, in the former, be +watchful and attentive to all that you see and hear; and never have it +to say, as a thousand fools do, of things that were said and done before +their faces, that, truly, they did not mind them, because they were +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 +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 everything that is said, and see everything that is done. +Observe the looks and countenances of those who speak, which is often a +surer way of discovering the truth than from what they say. But then keep +all those observations to yourself, for your own private use, and rarely +communicate them to others. Observe, 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. + + + + +LETTER XIX + +LONDON, November 6, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: Three mails are now due from Holland, so that I have no letter +from you to acknowledge; I write to you, therefore, now, as usual, by way +of flapper, to put you in mind of yourself. Doctor Swift, in his account +of the island of Laputa, describes some philosophers there who were so +wrapped up and absorbed in their abstruse speculations, that they would +have forgotten all the common and necessary duties of life, if they had +not been reminded of them by persons who flapped them, whenever they +observed them continue too long in any of those learned trances. I do not +indeed suspect you of being absorbed in abstruse speculations; but, with +great submission to you, may I not suspect that levity, inattention, and +too little thinking, require a flapper, as well as too deep thinking? If +my letters should happen to get to you when you are sitting by the fire +and doing nothing, or when you are 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 +frequently to say, “Take care of the pence; for the pounds will take care +of themselves.” This was a just and sensible reflection in a miser. I +recommend to you to take care of the minutes; for hours will take care of +themselves. I am very sure, that many people lose two or three hours +every day, by not taking care of the minutes. Never think any portion of +time whatsoever too short to be employed; something or other may always +be done in it. + +While you are in Germany, let all your historical studies be relative to +Germany; not only the general history of the empire as a collective body; +but the respective electorates, principalities, and towns; and also the +genealogy of the most considerable families. A genealogy is no trifle in +Germany; and they would rather prove their two-and-thirty quarters, than +two-and-thirty cardinal virtues, if there were so many. They are not of +Ulysses’ opinion, who says very truly, + + ----Genus et proavos, et qua non fecimus ipsi; + Vix ea nostra voco. + + Good night. + + + + +LETTER XX + +LONDON, November 24, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: As often as I write to you (and that you know is pretty often), +so often I am in doubt whether it is to any purpose, and whether it is +not labor and paper lost. This entirely depends upon the degree of reason +and reflection which you are master of, or think proper to exert. If you +give yourself time to think, and have sense enough to think right, two +reflections must necessarily occur to you; the one is, that I have a +great deal of experience, and that you have none: the other is, that I am +the only man living who cannot have, directly or indirectly, any interest +concerning you, but your own. From which two undeniable principles, the +obvious and necessary conclusion is, that you ought, for your own sake, +to attend to and follow my advice. + +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 worse in the +latter. You alone will be the gainer or the loser. + +Whatever your pleasures may be, I neither can nor shall envy you them, as +old people are sometimes suspected by young people to do; and I shall +only lament, if they should prove such as are unbecoming a man of honor, +or below a man of sense. But you will be the real sufferer, if they are +such. As therefore, it is plain that I can have no other motive than that +of affection in whatever I say to you, you ought to look upon me as your +best, and, for some years to come, your only friend. + +True friendship requires certain proportions of age and manners, and can +never subsist where they are extremely different, except in the relations +of parent and child, where affection on one side, and regard on the +other, make up the difference. The friendship which you may contract with +people of your own age may be sincere, may be warm; but must be, for some +time, reciprocally unprofitable, as there can be no experience on either +side. The young leading the young, is like the blind leading the blind; +(they will both fall into the ditch.) The only sure guide is, he who has +often gone the road which you want to go. Let me be that guide; who have +gone all roads, and who can consequently point out to you the best. If +you ask me why I went any of the bad roads myself, I will answer you very +truly, That it was for want of a good guide: ill example invited me one +way, and a good guide was wanting to show me a better. But if anybody, +capable of advising me, had taken the same pains with me, which I have +taken, and will continue to take with you, I should have avoided many +follies and inconveniences, which undirected youth run me into. My father +was neither desirous nor able to advise me; which is what, I hope, you +cannot say of yours. You see that I make use, only of the word advice; +because I would much rather have the assent of your reason to my advice, +than the submission of your will to my authority. This, I persuade +myself, will happen, 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. Redouble your attention, then, to Mr. Harte, in your +private studies of the ‘Literae Humaniores,’ especially Greek. State your +difficulties, whenever you have any; and do not suppress them, either +from mistaken shame, lazy indifference, or in order to have done the +sooner. Do the same when you are at lectures with Professor Mascow, or +any other professor; let nothing pass till you are sure that you +understand it thoroughly; and accustom yourself to write down the capital +points of what you learn. When you have thus usefully employed your +mornings, you may, with a safe conscience, divert yourself in the +evenings, and make those evenings very useful too, by passing them in +good company, and, by observation and attention, learning as much of the +world as Leipsig can teach you. You will observe and imitate the manners +of the people of the best fashion there; not that they are (it may be) +the best manners in the world; but because they are the best manners of +the place where you are, to which a man of sense always conforms. The +nature of things (as I have often told you) is always and everywhere the +same; but the modes of them vary more or less, in every country; and an +easy and genteel conformity to them, or rather the assuming of them at +proper times, and in proper places, is what particularly constitutes a +man of the world, and a well-bred man. + +Here is advice enough, I think, and too much, it may be, you will think, +for one letter; if you follow it, you will get knowledge, character, and +pleasure by it; if you do not, I only lose ‘operam et oleum,’ which, in +all events, I do not grudge you. + +I send you, by a person who sets out this day for 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. + + + + +LETTER XXI + +LONDON, December 15, 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 +commonplace sentence, of which there are millions, to prove, at once, the +value and the fleetness of time. The sun-dials, likewise all over Europe, +have some ingenious inscription to that effect; so that nobody squanders +away their time, without hearing and seeing, daily, how necessary it is +to employ it well, and how irrecoverable it is if lost. But all these +admonitions are useless, where there is not a fund of good sense and +reason to suggest them, rather than receive them. By the manner in which +you now tell me that you employ your time, I flatter 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; but I will only give you some hints with regard to the use of one +particular period of that long time which, I hope, you have before you; I +mean, the next two years. Remember, then, that whatever knowledge you do +not solidly lay the foundation of before you are eighteen, you will never +be the master of while you breathe. Knowledge is a 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 application 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 sometimes think it a little laborious, consider that labor is the +unavoidable fatigue of a necessary journey. The more hours a day you +travel, the sooner you will be at your journey’s end. The sooner you are +qualified for your liberty, the sooner you shall have it; and your +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 everything that I would +have you do, till you are eighteen, I will do everything that you would +have me do ever afterward. + +I knew a gentleman, who was so good a manager of his time, that he would +not even lose that small portion of it, which the calls of nature obliged +him to pass in the necessary-house; but gradually went through all the +Latin poets, in those moments. He bought, for example, a 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; and +I recommend you to follow his example. It is better than only doing what +you cannot help doing at those moments; and it will made any book, which +you shall read in that manner, very present in your mind. Books of +science, and of a grave sort, must be read with continuity; but there are +very many, and even very useful ones, which may be read with advantage by +snatches, and unconnectedly; such are all the good Latin poets, except +Virgil in his “AEneid”: and such are most of the modern poets, in which +you will find many pieces worth reading, that will not take up above +seven or eight minutes. Bayle’s, Moreri’s, and other dictionaries, are +proper books to take and shut up for the little intervals of (otherwise) +idle time, that everybody has in the course of the day, between either +their studies or their pleasures. Good night. + + + + +LETTER XXII + +LONDON, December 18, O. S. 1747. + +DEAR Boy: As two mails are now due from Holland, + +I have no letters of yours, or Mr. Harte’s to 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 I can give you some informations, or point out +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, and novel writers, and such +sentiment-mongers, may be pleased to say to the contrary. Neither is my +affection for you that of a mother, of which the only, or at least the +chief objects, are health and life: I wish you them both most heartily; +but, at the same time, I confess they are by no means my principal care. + +My object is to have you fit to live; which, if you are not, I do not +desire that you should live at all. My affection for you then is, and +only will be, proportioned to your merit; which is the only affection +that one rational being ought to have for another. Hitherto I have +discovered nothing wrong in your heart, or your head: on the contrary I +think I see sense in the one, and sentiments in the other. This +persuasion is the only motive of my present affection; which will either +increase or diminish, according to your merit or demerit. If you have the +knowledge, the honor, and probity, which you may have, the marks and +warmth of my affection shall amply reward them; but if you have them not, +my aversion and indignation will rise in the same proportion; and, in +that case, remember, that I am under no further obligation, than to give +you the necessary means of subsisting. If ever we quarrel, do not expect +or depend upon any weakness in my nature, for a 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 essential point; if once we quarrel, I will never forgive. But I +hope and believe, that this declaration (for it is no threat) will prove +unnecessary. You are no stranger to the principles of virtue; and, +surely, whoever knows virtue must love it. As for knowledge, you have +already enough of it, to 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 most desirous to have more, and know that the most +they can have is, alas! but too little. + +Reconsider, from time to time, and retain the friendly advice which I +send you. The advantage will be all your own. + + + + +LETTER XXIII + +LONDON, December 29, O. S. 1747 + +DEAR BOY: I have received two letters from you of the 17th and 22d, N. +S., by the last of which I find that some of mine to you must have +miscarried; for I have never been above two posts without writing to you +or to Mr. Harte, and even very long letters. I have also received a +letter from Mr. Harte, which gives me great satisfaction: it is full of +your praises; and he 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 honor, and give me pleasure. + +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 ‘Histoire du +Traite de Munster,’ in two volumes quarto; which contains many important +anecdotes concerning that famous treaty, that are not in Adamus Adami. + +You tell me that your lectures upon the ‘Jus Publicum’ will be ended at +Easter; but then I hope that Monsieur 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 Pacis,’ 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 a perfect master of that +language, both as to speaking and writing; for remember, that knowing any +language imperfectly, is very little better than not knowing it at all: +people being as unwilling to speak in a language which they do not +possess thoroughly, as others are to hear them. Your thoughts are +cramped, and appear to great disadvantage, in any language of which you +are not perfect master. Let modern history share part of your time, and +that always accompanied with the maps of the places in question; +geography and history are very 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 company, 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 seduce and prepossess people in +your favor at first sight. A proper care of your person is by no means to +be neglected; always extremely clean; upon proper occasions fine. Your +carriage genteel, and your motions graceful. Take particular care of your +manner and address, when you present yourself in company. 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 constitution; which, +by the course of your present studies, I know you must soon be acquainted +with; but I would now rather that your letters should be a sort of +journal of your own life. As, for instance, what company you keep, what +new acquaintances you make, what your pleasures are; with your own +reflections upon the whole: likewise what Greek and Latin books you read +and understand. Adieu! + + + + + + + LETTERS TO HIS SON + 1748 + + By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + + on the Fine Art of becoming a + + MAN OF THE WORLD + + and a + + GENTLEMAN + + + +LETTER XXIV + +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 laying it out to immense interest, which, +in a very few years, will amount to a prodigious capital. + +Though twelve of your fourteen ‘Commensaux’ may not be the liveliest +people in the world, and may want (as I easily conceive that they do) ‘le +ton de la bonne campagnie, et les graces’, which I wish you, yet pray +take care not to express any contempt, or throw out any ridicule; which I +can assure you, is not more contrary to good manners than to good sense: +but endeavor rather to get all the good you can out of them; and +something or other is to be got out of everybody. They will, at least, +improve you in the German language; and, as they come from different +countries, you may put them upon subjects, concerning which they must +necessarily be able to give you some useful informations, let them be +ever so dull or disagreeable in general: they will know something, at +least, of the laws, customs, government, and considerable families of +their respective countries; all which are better known than not, and +consequently worth inquiring into. There is hardly any body good for +every thing, and there is scarcely any body who is absolutely good for +nothing. A good chemist will extract some spirit or other out of every +substance; and a man of parts will, by his dexterity and management, +elicit something worth knowing out of every being he 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; 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 impatience for your breakfast next +morning. One part of your supper (the potatoes) is the constant diet of +my old friends and countrymen,--[Lord Chesterfield, from the time he was +appointed Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, 1775, used always to call the Irish +his countrymen.]--the Irish, who are the healthiest and the strongest +bodies of men that I know in Europe. + +As I believe that many of my letters to you and to Mr. Harte have +miscarried, as well as some of yours and his to me; particularly one of +his from Leipsig, to which he 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 inclosed 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 here, in the German language and +character; which will improve you in both. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XXV + +LONDON, January 15, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: I willingly accept the new-year’s gift which you promise me for +next year; and the more valuable you make it, the more thankful I shall +be. That depends entirely upon you; and therefore I hope to be presented, +every year, with a new edition of you, more correct than the former, and +considerably enlarged and amended. + +Since you do not care to be an assessor of the imperial chamber, and that +you desire an establishment in England; what do you think of being Greek +Professor at one of our universities? It is a very pretty sinecure, and +requires very little knowledge (much less than, I hope, you have already) +of that language. If you do not approve of this, I am at a loss to know +what else to propose to you; and therefore desire that you will inform me +what sort of destination you propose for yourself; for it is now time to +fix it, and to take our measures accordingly. Mr. Harte tells me that you +set up for a----------; if so, I presume it is in the view of succeeding +me in my office;--[A secretary of state.]--which I will very willingly +resign to you, whenever you shall call upon me for it. But, if you intend +to be the--------, or the-----------, 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 temper, so as not to be provoked to +passion, upon any account; patience, to hear frivolous, impertinent, and +unreasonable applications; 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 +favor and protection when you succeed. Yours. + + + + +LETTER XXVI + +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 on 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 consider 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 pleasure, 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 that your want of experience, of which you must be +conscious, 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, that, at this age, +you would desire more. Have you assemblies, or public spectacles? and of +what kind are they? Whatever they are, see them all; seeing everything, +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 mentioned; 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 England, with Monsieur +Coderc; but I think that you will do well to read it again, as I know of +no book that will form your taste better. The other is, ‘L’Art de plaire +dans la Conversation’, by the Abbe de Bellegarde, 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 color and taste to it. Adieu! I shall always +love you as you shall deserve. + + + + +LETTER XXVII + +LONDON, February 9, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: You will receive this letter, not from a Secretary of State but +from a private man; for whom, at his time of life, quiet was as fit, and +as necessary, as labor and activity are for you at your age, and for many +years yet to come. I resigned the seals, last Saturday, 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 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 own 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 laborers 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 which 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 labors 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 +‘Commensaux’, who disgrace and foul themselves with dirty w----s 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. + + + + +LETTER XXVIII + +LONDON, February 13, O. S. 1748 + +DEAR 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 explanation of the ‘Schriftsassen’, 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 anything 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 gave 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 Bath to-morrow, for a month; only to be better than well, +and 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. + + + + +LETTER XXIX + +BATH, February 18, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: The first use that I made of my liberty was to come here, where +I arrived yesterday. My health, though not fundamentally 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 under 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 have put up in the frize +of my library in my new house:-- + + Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno, et inertibus horis + Ducere sollicitae jucunda oblivia vitas. + +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 I +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 overvalued 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 overrated. 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 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 +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 remember to make that use of them. I have known many +people, from laziness of mind, go through both pleasure and business with +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. ‘Approfondissez’: go to the bottom of +things. Any thing half done or half known, is, in my mind, neither done +nor known at all. Nay worse, it often misleads. There is hardly any place +or any company, where you may not gain knowledge, if you please; almost +everybody knows some one thing, and is glad to talk upon that one thing. +Seek and you will find, in this world as well as in the next. See +everything; inquire into everything; and you may excuse your curiosity, +and the questions you ask which otherwise might be thought impertinent, +by your manner of asking them; for most things depend a great deal upon +the manner. As, for example, I AM AFRAID THAT I AM VERY TROUBLESOME WITH +MY QUESTIONS; BUT NOBODY CAN INFORM ME SO WELL AS YOU; or something of +that kind. + +Now that you are in a Lutheran country, go to their churches, and observe +the manner of their public worship; attend to their ceremonies, and +inquire the meaning and intention of everyone of them. And, as you will +soon understand German well enough, attend to their sermons, and observe +their manner of preaching. Inform yourself of their church government: +whether it resides in the sovereign, or in consistories and synods. +Whence arises the maintenance of their clergy; whether from tithes, as in +England, or from voluntary contributions, or from pensions from the +state. Do the same thing when you are in Roman Catholic countries; go to +their churches, see all their ceremonies: ask the meaning of them, get +the terms explained to you. As, for instance, Prime, Tierce, Sexte, +Nones, Matins, Angelus, High Mass, Vespers, Complines, etc. Inform +yourself of their several religious orders, their founders, their rules, +their vows, their habits, their revenues, etc. But, when you frequent +places of public worship, as I would have you go to all the different +ones you meet with, remember, that however erroneous, they are none of +them objects of laughter and ridicule. Honest error is to be pitied, not +ridiculed. The object of all the public worships in the world is the +same; it is that great eternal Being who created everything. The +different manners of worship are by no means subjects of ridicule. Each +sect thinks its own is the best; and I know no infallible judge in this +world, to decide which is the best. Make the same inquiries, wherever you +are, concerning the revenues, the military establishment, the trade, the +commerce, and the police of every country. And you would do well to keep +a blank paper book, which the Germans call an ALBUM; and there, instead +of desiring, as they do, every fool they meet with to scribble something, +write down all these things as soon as they come to your knowledge from +good authorities. + +I had almost forgotten one thing, which I would recommend as an object +for your curiosity and information, that is, the administration of +justice; which, as it is always carried on in open court, you may, and I +would have you, go and see it with attention and inquiry. + +I have now but one anxiety left, which is concerning you. I would have +you be, what I know nobody is--perfect. As that is impossible, I would +have you as near perfection as possible. I know nobody in a fairer way +toward it than yourself, if you please. Never were so much pains taken +for anybody’s education as for yours; and never had anybody those +opportunities of knowledge and improvement which you, have had, and still +have, I hope, I wish, I doubt, and fear alternately. This only I am sure +of, that you will prove either the greatest pain or the greatest pleasure +of, Yours. + + + + +LETTER XXX + +BATH, February 22, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR Boy: Every excellency, and every virtue, has its kindred vice or +weakness; and if carried beyond certain bounds, sinks into one or the +other. Generosity often runs into profusion, economy into avarice, +courage into rashness, caution into timidity, and so on:--insomuch that, +I believe, there is more judgment required, for the proper conduct of our +virtues, than for avoiding their opposite vices. Vice, in its true light, +is so deformed, that it shocks us at first sight, and would hardly ever +seduce us, if it did not, at first, wear the mask of some virtue. But +virtue is, in itself, so beautiful, that it charms us at first sight; +engages us more and more upon further acquaintance; and, as with other +beauties, we think excess impossible; it is here that judgment is +necessary, to moderate and direct the effects of an excellent cause. I +shall apply this reasoning, at present, not to any particular virtue, but +to an excellency, which, for want of judgment, is often the cause of +ridiculous and blamable effects; I mean, great learning; which, if not +accompanied with sound judgment, frequently carries us into error, pride, +and pedantry. As, I hope, you will possess that excellency in its utmost +extent, and yet without its too common failings, the hints, which my +experience can suggest, may probably not be useless to you. + +Some learned men, proud of their knowledge, only speak to decide, and +give judgment without appeal; the consequence of which is, that mankind, +provoked by the insult, and injured by the oppression, revolt; and, in +order to shake off the tyranny, even call the lawful authority in +question. The more you know, the modester you should be: and (by the bye) +that modesty is the surest way of gratifying your vanity. Even where you +are sure, seem rather doubtful; represent, but do not pronounce, and, if +you would convince others, seem open to conviction yourself. + +Others, to show their learning, or often from the prejudices of a school +education, where they hear of nothing else, are always talking of the +ancients, as something more than men, and of the moderns, as something +less. They are never without a classic or two in their pockets; they +stick to the old good sense; they read none of the modern trash; and will +show you, plainly, that no improvement has been made, in any one art or +science, these last seventeen hundred years. I would by no means have you +disown your acquaintance with the ancients: but still less would I have +you brag of an exclusive intimacy with them. Speak of the moderns without +contempt, and of the ancients without idolatry; judge them all by their +merits, but not by their ages; and if you happen to have an Elzevir +classic in your pocket neither show it nor mention it. + +Some great scholars, most absurdly, draw all their maxims, both for +public and private life, from what they call parallel cases in the +ancient authors; without considering, that, in the first place, there +never were, since the creation of the world, two cases exactly parallel; +and, in the next place, that there never was a case stated, or even +known, by any historian, with every one of its circumstances; which, +however, ought to be known, in order to be reasoned from. Reason upon the +case itself, and the several circumstances that attend it, and act +accordingly; but not from the authority of ancient poets, or historians. +Take into your consideration, if you please, cases seemingly analogous; +but take them as helps only, not as guides. We are really so prejudiced +by our education, that, as the ancients deified their heroes, we deify +their madmen; of which, with all due regard for antiquity, I take +Leonidas and Curtius to have been two distinguished ones. And yet a solid +pedant would, in a speech in parliament, relative to a tax of two pence +in the pound upon some community or other, quote those two heroes, as +examples of what we ought to do and suffer for our country. I have known +these absurdities carried so far by people of injudicious learning, that +I should not be surprised, if some of them were to propose, while we are +at war with the Gauls, that a number of geese should be kept in the +Tower, upon account of the infinite advantage which Rome received IN A +PARALLEL CASE, from a certain number of geese in the Capitol. This way of +reasoning, and this way of speaking, will always form a poor politician, +and a puerile declaimer. + +There is another species of learned men, who, though less dogmatical and +supercilious, are not less impertinent. These are the communicative and +shining pedants, who adorn their conversation, even with women, by happy +quotations of Greek and Latin; and who have contracted such a familiarity +with the Greek and Roman authors, that they, call them by certain names +or epithets denoting intimacy. As OLD Homer; that SLY ROGUE Horace; MARO, +instead of Virgil; and Naso, Instead of Ovid. These are often imitated by +coxcombs, who have no learning at all; but who have got some names and +some scraps of ancient authors by heart, which they improperly and +impertinently retail in all companies, in hopes of passing for scholars. +If, therefore, you would avoid the accusation of pedantry on one hand, or +the suspicion of ignorance on the other, abstain from learned +ostentation. Speak the language of the company that you are in; speak it +purely, and unlarded with any other. Never seem wiser, nor more learned, +than the people you are with. Wear your learning, like your watch, in a +private pocket: and do not pull it out and strike it; merely to show that +you have one. If you are asked what o’clock it is, tell it; but do not +proclaim it hourly and unasked, like the watchman. + +Upon the whole, remember that learning (I mean Greek and Roman learning) +is a most useful and necessary ornament, which it is shameful not to be +master of; but, at the same time most carefully avoid those errors and +abuses which I have mentioned, and which too often attend it. Remember, +too, that great modern knowledge is still more necessary than ancient; +and that you had better know perfectly the present, than the old state of +Europe; though I would have you well acquainted with both. + +I have this moment received your letter of the 17th, N. S. Though, I +confess, there is no great variety in your present manner of life, yet +materials can never be wanting for a letter; you see, you hear, or you +read something new every day; a short account of which, with your own +reflections thereupon, will make out a letter very well. But, since you +desire a subject, pray send me an account of the Lutheran establishment +in Germany; their religious tenets, their church government, the +maintenance, authority, and titles of their clergy. + +‘Vittorio Siri’, complete, is a very scarce and very dear book here; but +I do not want it. If your own library grows too voluminous, you will not +know what to do with it, when you leave Leipsig. Your best way will be, +when you go away from thence, to send to England, by Hamburg, all the +books that you do not absolutely want. + + Yours. + + + + +LETTER XXXI + +BATH, March 1, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: By Mr. Harte’s letter to Mr. Grevenkop, of the 21st February, +N. S., I find that you had been a great while without receiving any +letters from me; but by this time, I daresay you think you have received +enough, and possibly more than you have read; for I am not only a +frequent, but a prolix correspondent. + +Mr. Harte says, in that letter, that he looks upon Professor Mascow to be +one of the ablest men in Europe, in treaty and political knowledge. I am +extremely glad of it; for that is what I would have you particularly +apply to, and make yourself perfect master of. The treaty part you must +chiefly acquire by reading the treaties themselves, and the histories and +memoirs relative to them; not but that inquiries and conversations upon +those treaties will help you greatly, and imprint them better in your +mind. In this course of reading, do not perplex yourself, at first, by +the multitude of insignificant treaties which are to be found in the +Corps Diplomatique; but stick to the material ones, which altered the +state of Europe, and made a new arrangement among the great powers; such +as the treaties of Munster, Nimeguen, Ryswick, and Utrecht. + +But there is one part of political knowledge, which is only to be had by +inquiry and conversation; that is, the present state of every power in +Europe, with regard to the three important points, of strength, revenue, +and commerce. You will, therefore, do well, while you are in Germany, to +inform yourself carefully of the military force, the revenues, and the +commerce of every prince and state of the empire; and to write down those +informations in a little book, for that particular purpose. To give you a +specimen of what I mean:-- + + THE ELECTORATE OF HANOVER + + The revenue is about L500,000 a year. + + The military establishment, in time of war, may be about 25,000 men; + but that is the utmost. + + The trade is chiefly linens, exported from Stade. + + There are coarse woolen manufactures for home-consumption. + + The mines of Hartz produce about L100,000 in silver, annually. + +Such informations you may very easily get, by proper inquiries, of every +state in Germany if you will but prefer useful to frivolous +conversations. + +There are many princes in Germany, who keep very few or no troops, unless +upon the approach of danger, or for the sake of profit, by letting them +out for subsidies, to great powers: In that case, you will inform +yourself what number of troops they could raise, either for their own +defense, or furnish to other powers for subsidies. + +There is very little trouble, and an infinite use, in acquiring of this +knowledge. It seems to me even to be a more entertaining subject to talk +upon, than ‘la pluie et le beau tens’. + +Though I am sensible that these things cannot be known with the utmost +exactness, at least by you yet, you may, however, get so near the truth, +that the difference will be very immaterial. + +Pray let me know if the Roman Catholic worship is tolerated in Saxony, +anywhere but at Court; and if public mass-houses are allowed anywhere +else in the electorate. Are the regular Romish clergy allowed; and have +they any convents? + +Are there any military orders in Saxony, and what? Is the White Eagle a +Saxon or a Polish order? Upon what occasion, and when was it founded? +What number of knights? + +Adieu! God bless you; and may you turn out what I wish! + + + + +LETTER XXXII + +BATH, March 9, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: I must from time to time, remind you of what I have often +recommended to you, and of what you cannot attend to too much; SACRIFICE +TO THE GRACES. The different effects of the same things, said or done, +when accompanied or abandoned by them, is almost inconceivable. They +prepare the way to the heart; and the heart has such an influence over +the understanding, that it is worth while to engage it in our interest. +It is the whole of women, who are guided by nothing else: and it has so +much to say, even with men, and the ablest men too, that it commonly +triumphs in every struggle with the understanding. Monsieur de +Rochefoucault, in his “Maxims,” says, that ‘l’esprit est souvent la dupe +du coeur.’ If he had said, instead of ‘souvent, tresque toujours’, I fear +he would have been nearer the truth. This being the case, aim at the +heart. Intrinsic merit alone will not do; it will gain you the general +esteem of all; but not the particular affection, that is, the heart of +any. To engage the affections of any particular person, you must, over +and above your general merit, have some particular merit to that person +by services done, or offered; by expressions of regard and esteem; by +complaisance, attentions, etc., for him. And the graceful manner of doing +all these things opens the way to the heart, and facilitates, or rather +insures, their effects. From your own observation, reflect what a +disagreeable impression an awkward address, a slovenly figure, an +ungraceful manner of speaking, whether stuttering, muttering, monotony, +or drawling, an unattentive behavior, etc., make upon you, at first +sight, in a stranger, and how they prejudice you against him, though for +aught 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 +you, at first sight, in favor 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, conspire to +form these graces, this je ne sais quoi, that always please. A pretty +person, genteel motions, a proper degree of 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 sais 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 things 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 in 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 supposition 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 my 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 +restrained, by a very little reflection; but as it is generally connected +with the idea of gaiety, people do not enough attend to its absurdity. I +am neither of a melancholy nor a cynical disposition, and am as willing +and as apt to be pleased as anybody; 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 +disagreeable and silly trick of laughing whenever they speak; and I know +a man of very good parts, Mr. Waller, who cannot say the commonest thing +without laughing; which makes those, who do not know 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 afterward grow habitual to them. Some put their fingers in +their nose, others scratch their heads, 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 awkwardnesses, +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 yourself. + +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? 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 Wetzlaer? + +What do you call the two chief courts, or two chief magistrates, 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 maintain? + +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 end 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 omne’: but inform +yourself more particularly of the several parts of trade there. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XXXIII + +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. Harte tells me you +have read, with attention, Caillieres, Pequet, and Richelieu’s “Letters.” + The “Memoirs” of the Cardinal de Retz will both entertain and instruct +you; they relate to a very interesting period of the French history, the +ministry of Cardinal Mazarin, during the minority of Lewis 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 labored 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, from the fifteenth century, and downward. 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. +Lewis the Eleventh made France, in truth, a monarchy, or, as he used to +say himself, ‘la mit hors de Page’. Before his time, there were +independent provinces in France, as the Duchy of Brittany, etc., whose +princes tore it to pieces, and kept it in constant domestic confusion. +Lewis 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 Aragon, and Isabella his wife, Queen +of Castile, united the whole Spanish monarchy, and drove the Moors out of +Spain, who had till then kept position 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 marriages, the +house of Austria acquired the seventeen provinces, and by the latter, +Spain and America; all which centered in the person of Charles the Fifth, +son of the above-mentioned Archduke 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 qua, 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. Afterward the House of Austria was +weakened by the division made by Charles the Fifth of his 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 remarkable eras, +which deserve more particular inquiry and attention than the common run +of history. Such is the revolt of the Seventeen Provinces, in the reign +of Philip the Second of Spain, 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 favor of the present House +of Braganza. Such is the famous revolution of Sweden, when Christian the +Second of Denmark, who was also king 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 liberties to the Crown, and changed that free state into the +most absolute monarchy now in Europe. The Acta Regis, 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 admirably well written by L’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 Traits 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 importance; 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, between +France and Spain; the treaties of Nimeguen and Ryswick; 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 Bougeant is the best book you can read, as it takes in the +thirty 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 Imperii’. + +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. Noncommissioned 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! + + + + +LETTER XXXIV + +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 jeweler, originally +of Geneva, but who has been settled here these eight or ten years, and a +very sensible fellow: pray do 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 appropriate each, if you +please, to a particular object. I have myself found great utility in this +method. If I had known what to have sent you by this opportunity I would +have done it. The French say, ‘Que les petits presens entretiennent +l’amite et que les grande l’augmentent’; but I could not recollect that +you wanted anything, or at least anything 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; afterward 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. + + + + +LETTERS TO HIS SON + +LETTER XXXV + +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 vigor. Observe the difference there is +between minds cultivated, and minds uncultivated, and 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 as +much more above him as 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 advantage of education into the bargain. If Shakespeare’s genius had +been cultivated, those beauties, which we so justly admire in him, would +have been undisgraced 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, therefore, 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 gentleness of manners, an engaging +address, and an insinuating behavior; 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 applauded, from the contrary reason. Adieu! + + + + +LETTER XXXVI + +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 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; 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 observations 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 Savoyard’s 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 that I have +asked you. + + + + +LETTER XXXVII + +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 deserves 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 Augustine 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 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 afterward +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 pretense 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 pretense 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 or 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 humors, 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, a good night’s sleep, and a fine +morning, have sometimes made a hero of the same man, who, by an +indigestion, a restless night, and 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 extending 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 +eyewitnesses of it? No. One mistakes, another misrepresents, and others +warp it a little to their own, turn of mind, or private views. A man who +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, 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 or 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 particularly that of +the last three 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 testimonies 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 political 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. + + + + +LETTER XXXVIII + +LONDON, May 10, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: I reckon that this letter will find you just returned from +Dresden, where you have made your first court caravanne. 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 frivolous and contemptible of all beings; as, on the other hand, a +man of parts and knowledge, who acquires the easy and noble manners of a +court, is the most perfect. It is a trite, commonplace observation, that +courts are the seats of falsehood and dissimulation. That, like many, I +might say most, commonplace 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 neighboring farmers in a village will contrive and +practice as many tricks, to over-reach each other at the next market, or +to supplant each other in the favor, of the squire, as any two courtiers +can do to supplant each other in the favor 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 commonplace observations, I will particularly 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 favorite topics; it is all priest-craft; and an +invention contrived and carried on by priests of all religions, for their +own power and profit; from this absurd and false principle flow the +commonplace, insipid jokes, and insults upon the clergy. With these +people, every priest, of every religion, is either a public or a +concealed unbeliever, drunkard, and whoremaster; whereas, I conceive, +that priests are extremely like other men, and neither the better nor the +worse for wearing a gown or a surplice: but if they are different from +other people, probably it 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 cool raillery, is matrimony. +Every man and his wife hate each other cordially, whatever 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 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 respectively +deserve it; but that would be exactly the same between any man and woman +who lived together without being married. + +These and many other commonplace 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 +endeavor to shine in company by second-hand finery. I always put these +pert jackanapes 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 commonplace, and serious without being dull. The +frequentation of courts checks this petulancy of manners; the +good-breeding and circumspection which are necessary, and only to be +learned there, correct those pertnesses. I do not doubt but that you are +improved 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 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; and the very same thing may become either pleasing or +offensive, by the manner of saying or doing it. ‘Materiam 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 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 knowledge 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 frivolous 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 knowledge of a scholar with +the manners of a courtier; and to join, what is seldom joined by 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 awkward, 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 traveling: and (by the way) the pleasures +of a gentleman are only to be found in the best company; for that not +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 sufficient for application, and the +others cannot be better employed than in the pleasures of good company. +Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XXXIX + +LONDON, May 31, 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 favorable; and his Polish Majesty has +distinguished you. I hope you received that mark of distinction with +respect and with steadiness, which is the proper behavior 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 nor 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 company, 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, endeavored 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 ease. He talks to kings without +concern; he trifles with women of the first condition with familiarity, +gayety, but respect; and converses with his equals, whether he is +acquainted with them or not, upon general common 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 likewise your +answers to the many questions that I asked you. + +Adieu for this time, and God bless you! + + + + +LETTER XL + +LONDON, May 27, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR 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 advantage lost; as, on the other hand, every +moment that you now employ usefully, is so much time wisely laid out, at +most prodigious interest. These two years must lay the foundations of all +the knowledge that you will ever have; you may build upon them afterward +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 labor nor pains to acquire, in +time, that stock of knowledge, without which you never can rise, but must +make a very insignificant figure in the world. Consider your own +situation; you have not the advantage of rank or 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 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 recommendation 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 destination, consists of modern languages, modern history, +chronology, 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 others 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 one who knows Latin +and French, that neither of them will cost you much time or trouble. +Modern history, by which I mean particularly 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 +chronology 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 mentioned: 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 luster to both virtue and +knowledge. They prepare and smooth the way for the progress of both; and +are, I fear, with the bulk of mankind, 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, however 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 or 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? 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 ministers 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 manners which are absolutely necessary toward 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 these +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 +neglected. 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 Assiento +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; who they belonged 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 that of Utrecht, inclusively; all +which I would advise you to read. Pore 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 labor 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 affection 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. + + + + +LETTER XLI + +LONDON, May 31, O. S. 1748 + +DEAR 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 can not 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, +leave things pretty much in state 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 and rapid progress of Mahometanism; and, lastly, the +Reformation; 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 effect particular +states and kingdoms, and which are reckoned entirely local, though their +influence may, and indeed very often does, indirectly, extend itself +further, such as civil wars and revolutions, 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 afterward +to absolute power, usurped by Cromwell, under the pretense of protection, +and the title of Protector. + +The Revolution in 1688, instead of changing, preserved one form of +government; which King James II. intended to subvert, and establish +absolute power in the Crown. + +These are the two great epochs in our English history, which I recommend +to your particular attention. + +The league formed by the House of Guise, and fomented by the artifices 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 it 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 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 interests than as their religion led them; by +the pretensions also of France, and the 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, +Montserrat, etc. + +The Popes, till lately, have always taken a considerable part, and had +great influence in the affairs of Europe; their excommunications, bulls, +and indulgences, stood instead of armies in the time 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 conveniency +in taking them from him. Among the modern Popes, Leo the Tenth, Alexander +the Sixth, and Sextus 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; painting 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 the Sixth, together with his natural son Caesar Borgia, was +famous for his wickedness, in which he, and his son too, surpassed all +imagination. Their lives are well worth your reading. They were poisoned +themselves by the poisoned wine which they had prepared for others; the +father died of it, but Caesar recovered. + +Sixtus the Fifth was the son of a swineherd, and raised himself to the +popedom by his abilities: he was a great knave, but an able and singular +one. + +Here is history enough for to-day: you shall have some more soon. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XLII + +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 myself, that, 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 informing 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 attended 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 you 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 which he made in +his favor. Words were given us to communicate our ideas by: and there +must be something inconceivably 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 whomsoever you speak +to, to remind and stop you, if you ever fall into the rapid and +unintelligible mutter. You will even read aloud to yourself, and time +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, if you think right, you will +make it your business; your study, and your pleasure to speak well. +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 be, 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 awkwardness: which, I can assure you, +has been a great clog to his parts and merit, that have, with much +difficulty, but barely 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 character; 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 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, ‘l’air 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 favor; 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. + + + + +LETTER XLIII + +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 endeavor that you may turn out well; and, according as you do +turn out, I shall either be proud or ashamed of you. But as to mere +interest, in the common acceptation of that word, it would be mine that +you should turn out ill; for you may depend upon it, that whatever you +have from me shall be most exactly proportioned to your desert. Deserve a +great deal, and you shall have a great deal; deserve a 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 and Morality, because I +cannot possibly suspect you as to either of them. This solid knowledge +you are in a fair way of acquiring; 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 or 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, 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 forever. 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 mortifying 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 weaknesses, +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 gracefully. + +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 coin’s; 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 doing 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. + +L’Abbe Mably’s ‘Droit de l’Europe’, which Mr. Harte is so kind as to send +me, is worth your reading. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XLIV. + +CHELTENHAM, July 6, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: Your school-fellow, Lord Pulteney,--[Only child of the Right +Hon. William Pulteney, Earl of Bath. He died before his father.]--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 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 +endeavors; and that cannot be helped: but nothing is more insulting, more +mortifying 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 raise and help 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 importance. +The duties of social life every man is obliged to discharge; but these +attentions are voluntary acts, the free-will 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 ease. Can you +open Demosthenes at a venture, and understand him? Can you get through an +“Oration” of Cicero, or a “Satire” of Horace, without difficulty? What +German books 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 morning, 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 indifference 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 converse ever +with, Yours. + +P. S. As I was making up my letter, I received yours of the 6th, O. S. I +like your dissertation upon Preliminary Articles and Truces. Your +definitions of both are true. Those are matters which I would have you be +master of; 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 meant 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 understood them, they would neither have frequented nor presented +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, on 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 persifler’, practiced with great +success by the ‘Petits maitres’ 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 inarticulate sounds; while +the man, who thinks that he 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 of 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 questions +concerning Lord Pulteney. + + + + +LETTER XLV + +LONDON, July, 20, 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 everything worth knowing or having is attained 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 +difficulties 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 subject 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 through. 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 +or 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 conversation; and one would be sorry to say, +like the Marquis de Mascarille in Moliere’s ‘Precieuses Ridicules’, when +he hears of ‘une demie lune, Ma foi! c’etoit bien une lune toute +entiere’. But those things which every gentleman, independently of +profession, should know, he ought to know well, and dive into all the +depth of them. Such are languages, history, and geography ancient and +modern, philosophy, 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 subjects of their most +serious researches. They contemplate the dress, not the characters of the +company they keep. They attend more to the decorations of a play than 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 this time away 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. Read 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 company. +Points of history, matters of literature, the customs of particular +countries, the several orders of knighthood, as Teutonic, Maltese, etc., +are surely better subjects of conversation, than the weather, dress, or +fiddle-faddle stories, that carry no information 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 entertaining and instructive subject of conversation, and will +likewise give you an opportunity of observing how very differently +characters 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 excuse, you will +never be reckoned an impertinent or rude questioner. All those things, in +the common course of life, depend entirely upon the manner; and, in that +respect, the vulgar saying is true, ‘That one man can 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 distinctly spoken, would please, which would shock, if +MUTTERED out 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, DISTINCTLY, 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 inclosed state of the Prussian forces: of which, I hope, +you have kept a copy; this you should lay in a ‘portefeuille’, 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 pleasing 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--[James Brydges, duke of Chandos, built a +most magnificent and elegant house at CANNONS, about eight miles from +London. It was superbly furnished with fine pictures, statues, etc., +which, after his death, were sold, by auction. Lord Chesterfield +purchased the hall-pillars, the floor; and staircase with double flights; +which are now in Chesterfield House, London.]--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 you 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 antiquary did an old one. + +Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, at whose recovery I rejoice. + + + + +LETTER XLVI + +LONDON, August 2, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: Duval the jeweler, 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 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 exercise, 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 inclosed a short account. It may serve to suggest questions to +you for more particular inquiries 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 Commanderies 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, 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 religious orders; both which are +worth your having and consulting, 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 history 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 forever. I hope you have worn out your maps by frequent, +use of that sort. Adieu. + + A SHORT ACCOUNT OF THE TEUTONIC ORDER + +In the ages of ignorance, which is always the mother of superstition, it +was thought not only just, but meritorious, to propagate religion by fire +and sword, and to take away the lives and properties of unbelievers. +This enthusiasm produced the several crusades, in the 11th, 12th, and +following centuries, the object of which was, to recover the Holy Land +out of, the hands of the Infidels, who, by the way, were the lawful +possessors. Many honest enthusiasts engaged in those crusades, from a +mistaken principle of religion, and from the pardons granted by the Popes +for all the sins of those pious adventurers; but many more knaves adopted +these holy wars, in hopes of conquest and plunder. After Godfrey of +Bouillon, at the head of these knaves and fools, had taken Jerusalem, in +the year 1099, Christians of various nations remained in that city; among +the rest, one good honest German, that took particular care of his +countrymen who came thither in pilgrimages. He built a house for their +reception, and an hospital dedicated to the Virgin. This little +establishment soon became a great one, by the enthusiasm of many +considerable people who engaged in it, in order to drive the Saracens out +of the Holy Land. This society then began to take its first form; and its +members were called Marian Teutonic Knights. Marian, from their chapel +sacred to the Virgin Mary; Teutonic, from the German, or Teuton, who was +the author of it, and Knights from the wars which they were to carry on +against the Infidels. + +These knights behaved themselves so bravely, at first; that Duke +Frederick of Swabia, who was general of the German army in the Holy Land, +sent, in the year 1191, to the Emperor Henry VI. and Pope Celestine III. +to desire that this brave and charitable fraternity might be incorporated +into a regular order of knighthood; which was accordingly done, and rules +and a particular habit were given them. Forty knights, all of noble +families, were at first created by the King of Jerusalem and other +princes then in the army. The first grand master of this order was Henry +Wallpot, of a noble family upon the Rhine. This order soon began to +operate in Europe; drove all the Pagans out of Prussia, and took +possession of it. Soon after, they got Livonia and Courland, and invaded +even Russia, where they introduced the Christian religion. In 1510, they +elected Albert, Marquis of Bradenburg, for their grand master, who, +turning Protestant, soon afterward took Prussia from the order, and kept +it for himself, with the consent of Sigismund, King of Poland, of whom it +was to hold. He then quitted his grand mastership and made himself +hereditary Duke of that country, which is thence called Ducal Prussia. +This order now consists of twelve provinces; viz., Alsatia, Austria, +Coblentz, and Etsch, which are the four under the Prussian jurisdiction; +Franconia, Hesse, Biessen, Westphalia, Lorraine, Thuringia, Saxony, and +Utrecht, which eight are of the German jurisdiction. The Dutch now +possess all that the order had in Utrecht. Every one of the provinces +have their particular Commanderies; and the most ancient of these +Commandeurs is called the Commandeur Provincial. These twelve Commandeurs +are all subordinate to the Grand Master of Germany as their chief, and +have the right of electing the grand master. The elector of Cologne is at +present ‘Grand Maitre’. + +This order, founded by mistaken Christian zeal, upon the anti-Christian +principles of violence and persecution, soon grew strong by the weakness +and ignorance of the time; acquired unjustly great possessions, of which +they justly lost the greatest part by their ambition and cruelty, which +made them feared and hated by all their neighbors. + +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 consequently will not last long. But your own hair is, at +your age, such an ornament, and a wig, however well made, such a +disguise, that I will upon no account whatsoever have you cut off your +hair. Nature did not give it to 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. + + + + +LETTER XLVII + +LONDON, August 23, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: Your friend, Mr. Eliot, has dined with me twice since I +returned here, and I can say with truth that while I had the 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. ‘Laudati a laudato viro’, is one +of the greatest pleasures and honors 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 understanding, 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 gew-gaws and +baubles, but in buying good and useful books. This is an excellent +symptom, and gives me very good hopes. Go on thus, my dear boy, but for +these next two 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 are only idle; but those who +have once acquired a good stock of knowledge, always desire to increase +it. Knowledge is like power in this respect, that those who have the +most, are most desirous of having more. It does not clog, 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 labors. + +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 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 graceful, nobody will +desire to hear you. I am glad to learn that Abbe Mably’s ‘Droit Public de +l’Europe’ 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. Pyre Bougeant’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 +preceding 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 counterbalance to that of Bourbon. +Sweden wanted possessions on 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 bishoprics 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 Bradenburg: which, 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 now 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. + + + + +LETTER XLVIII + +LONDON, August 30, O. S. 1748 + +DEAR 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 + Quem 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 degree 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 a historian pretends to +give you the causes and motives of events, compare those causes and +motives with the characters and interests of the parties concerned, and +judge for yourself whether they correspond or not. Consider 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 inconsistent is human nature, so strong and changeable +are our passions, 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 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 histories, 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 analyze 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 further 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 interest, can +never be so intimate as to compose a machine so compact 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 1706, only from the secret view of +the House of Austria upon Naples: which made the Court of Vienna, +notwithstanding the representations of the other allies to the contrary, +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 of 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 detachment from their army in Flanders, failed +shamefully, for want of every one thing 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 themselves, certainly superior to those of +Frances 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; 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 1725, between France and England, +to which the Dutch afterward acceded; for it was made upon the +apprehensions, either real or pretended, that the marriage of Don Carlos +with the eldest archduchess, 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. I 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 counterbalance 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 overmatch 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 favorite 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 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 servir a l’Histoire +du 17ieme Siecle’, is a most useful book for you to recur to for all the +facts and chronology of that country: 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’; however, if you have not yet +read them, pray do, and with the attention which they deserve. You will +there find the best account of a very interesting period of the minority +of Lewis 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 well worth your +transcribing. ‘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, but by looking +perpetually in the map for the places one reads of, even though one knows +before, pretty near, where they are. + +Adieu! As all the accounts which I receive of you grow better and better, +so I grow more and more affectionately, Yours. + + + + +LETTER XLIX + +LONDON, September 5, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: I have received yours, with the inclosed German letter to Mr. +Gravenkop, which he assures me is extremely well written, considering the +little time that you have applied yourself to that 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 or writing it. His ideas are fettered, and seem +imperfect or confused, 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. Gravenkop; 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 anything 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 produce 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 necessary. Pleasing in company is the only way of +being pleased in it yourself. Sense and 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 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 pray, 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 composition +of so many, and such various ingredients, that it requires both time and +care to analyze him: for though we have all the same ingredients in our +general composition, as reason, will, passions, and appetites; yet the +different proportions and combinations of them in each individual, +produce that infinite variety of characters, which, in some particular or +other, distinguishes 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 endeavoring to engage his 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 favorite. I will +recommend to your attentive perusal, now that 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 Reflections Morales de Monsieur de la +Rochefoucault, and Les Caracteres de la Bruyere’: but remember, at the +same time, that I only recommend 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 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 +everything 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 blamable motive, when we take the immediate and indiscriminate +gratification of a passion, or appetite, for real happiness. But am I +blamable 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, +quelque chose qui ne des plait 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 at 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 colored. 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 and the +blemishes. + +As women are a considerable, or, at least a pretty numerous part of +company; and as their suffrages go a great way toward 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 +tattle, and sometimes wit; but for solid reasoning, good sense, I never +knew in my life one that had it, or who reasoned or acted consequentially +for four-and-twenty hours together. Some little passion or humor always +breaks upon their best resolutions. Their beauty neglected or +controverted, their age increased, or their supposed understandings +depreciated, instantly 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, humors 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 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 courteous, 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 implacable 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 showing your own superiority. You may get +the laugh on your side by it for the present; but you will make enemies +by it forever; 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! + + + + +LETTER L + +LONDON, September 13, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: 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 determined 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 me savoit pas, que qui assemble le peuple, l’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 frenzy to seize on all, +even the coolest of them. + +Another very just observation of the Cardinal’s is, That, the things +which happen in our own times, and which we see ourselves, 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 +extravagances from the same quarter. This is so true that we read every +day, with astonishment, things which we see every day without 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 himself, 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,--[James Shepherd, a +coach-painter’s apprentice, was executed at Tyburn for high treason, +March 17, 1718, in the reign of George I.]--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 to his country, and that +he died with pleasure for having endeavored 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 reconsider all your notions of things; analyze +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 +prejudices 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. + +The last observation that I shall now mention of the Cardinal’s 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 is certain that people of +business know the importance of secrecy, and will observe it, where they +are 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 consequently that they may reveal it without the +risk of being discovered. 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 are generally kept. Adieu! + + + + +LETTER LI + +LONDON, September 20, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: I wait with impatience for your accurate history of the +‘Chevaliers Forte 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 +acquired 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, without running against Monsieur +le Chevalier, or Monsieur le Commandeur de l’ Ordre Teutonique. It is the +same in all the other parts of Europe with regard to the Order of Malta, +where you never go into company without meeting two or three Chevaliers +or Commandeurs, who talk of their ‘Preuves’, their ‘Langues’, their +‘Caravanes’, 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 you to read Abbe Vertot’s “History of the Order of Malta,” in +four quarto volumes; 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 +pretense 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 +villany, and annexed the pardon of sins to the perpetration of it. This +gave rise to the Crusaders, 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 crusade; kings, princes, all professions 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 +enthusiasts enough to hope for salvation, by the destruction of a +considerable 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 favor these expeditions), seeing the immense numbers of the +‘Croisez’, and fearing that the Western Empire might have some mind to +the Eastern Empire too, if it succeeded against the Infidels, as +‘l’appetit vient en mangeant’; these Eastern emperors, very honestly, +poisoned the waters where the ‘Croisez’ were to pass, and so destroyed +infinite numbers of them. + +The later orders of knighthood, such as the Garter in England; the +Elephant in Denmark; the Golden Fleece in Burgundy; the St. Esprit, St. +Michel, St. Louis, and St. Lazare, in France etc., are of a very +different nature and were either the invitations to, or the rewards of; +brave actions in fair war; and are now rather the decorations of the +favor 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 respective orders of that +country, and to write down a short account of them. For example, while +you are in Saxony, get an account of l’Aigle Blanc and of what other +orders there may be, either Polish or Saxon; and, when you shall be at +Berlin, inform yourself of three orders, l’Aigle 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 it is of some use. Young people +have frequently an incuriousness about them, arising either from +laziness, or a contempt of the object, which deprives them of several +such little parts of knowledge, that they afterward 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 turn 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 eminency in any branch of learning, one is not at a loss; +but 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 labor; if you talk to them too +frivolously, 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 chemist, you may +extract something out of everything. + +A propos of the beau monde, I must again and again recommend 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 toward 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 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 a +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 neighbor’s 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 so when above half the world thinks them otherwise. +And, as I would have you ‘omnibus ornatum--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. + + + + +LETTER LII + +LONDON, September 27, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: I have received your Latin “Lecture upon War,” which 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 that +distinguishes the Latin of 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 school-boys, 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 favorite 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 ‘optima’, 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 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 ‘praefiscine’, +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 lenta citave morte omnia dira nobis minitans +quocunque bellantibus negotium est; parum sane interfuerit quo modo eum +obruere et interficere satagamus, si ferociam exuere cunctetur. Ergo +veneno quoque uti fas est’, etc., whereas I cannot conceive that the use +of poison can, upon any account, come within the lawful means of +self-defense. 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 defense, be your danger +ever so great: 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 me rather to warp the law, in order to authorize, 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 principles 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 anyone 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 or 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 skillful +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 profession, as an innocent, +if not even a laudable one; and 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, Bishop of Cloyne, a very worthy, ingenious, +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, very uncommon) is +the best sense I know of: abide by it, it will counsel you best. Read and +hear, for your amusement, ingenious systems, nice questions subtilly +agitated, with all the refinements that warm imaginations suggest; but +consider them only as exercitations for the mind, and turn always to +settle with common sense. + +I stumbled, the other day, at a bookseller’s, upon “Comte Gabalis,” in +two very little volumes, which I had formerly read. I read it over again, +and with fresh astonishment. Most of the extravagances are taken from the +Jewish Rabbins, who broached those wild notions, and delivered them in +the unintelligible jargon which the Caballists 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 alchemists give very much into 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, a bold empiric and wild Caballist, +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. + +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, who +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 me +without reserve, you may depend upon my inviolable secrecy. If you have +ever looked into the “Letters” of Madame de Sevigne to her daughter, +Madame de Grignan, you must have observed the ease, freedom, and +friendship of that correspondence; and yet, I hope and I believe, that +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 necessity 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 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 of 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 behavior, 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 are +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 informations; and are very +apt to do it, being proud to show that 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 brilliant’ which they cannot withstand. There is a +sort of men so like women, that they are to be taken just in the same +way; 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 carelessness of their superiors, +pick up secrets worth knowing, which are easily got out of them by proper +address. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER LIII + +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 vertigo. I already find +myself something better; and consequently do not doubt but that the +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 endeavor 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 +considerable birth, rank, and character; for people of neither birth nor +rank are frequently, and very justly admitted into it, if distinguished +by any peculiar merit, or eminency in any liberal art or science. Nay, so +motly 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 characters and morals make part of it. But in the main, the +good 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 unquestionably to be learned; +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 pests 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 exclusively 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 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, from +the many instances which I have seen of men of sense and rank, +discredited, verified, 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 Coryphceus 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 in 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 whoremasters, drunkards, or gamesters, upon which he adopts their +vices, mistaking their defects for their perfections, and thinking that +they owe their fashions and their luster 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 accomplishments: and are only blemished and lowered, in the opinions +of all reasonable people, and of their own, in time, by these genteel and +fashionable vices. A whoremaster, 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 stupefied 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 alloys, 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 a whoremaster, 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, notwithstanding 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 perfections 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 which you would no more +imitate, than you would make 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 endeavored 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. Adieu! This letter is full long enough. + + + + +LETTER LIV + +BATH, October 19, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: Having in my last pointed out what sort of company you 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 confidence. 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, everyone 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 hand, in order to be 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 +neighbor) 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 toward each other; and, if the +controversy grows warm and noisy, endeavor 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 +pretense 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 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 weaknesses and then owning their misfortune in +being made up of those weaknesses. They cannot see people suffer without +sympathizing with, and endeavoring 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 extravagant, that a discreet +dramatist would not venture to set them upon the stage in their true and +high coloring. + +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 +drunk 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 extravagances, which +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 you +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’; that is, a frank, open, and ingenuous exterior, with +a prudent 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 conscious guilt; besides that +you lose the advantage of serving 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 whatever 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; defamation of others may +for the present gratify the malignity of the pride of our hearts; cool +reflection will draw very disadvantageous 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 favorite 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 practice 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 subject, 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 chameleon, 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 good 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 practice, 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. + +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 UNGRACEFULLY, 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 to Juventas Mercuriusque.’ + +They are not inexorable Ladies, and may be had if properly, and +diligently pursued. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER LV + +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 inexperience), 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 examining 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; +and, besides, they are 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. These 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 situations of the company, before you give +way to what your imagination may prompt you to say. There are, in all +companies, more wrong beads 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 applicable, be thought +personal and leveled 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 be, are therefore meant at you. The +manners of well-bred people secure one from those indirect and mean +attacks; 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 that 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. + +Remember that the wit, humor, 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 repeating. 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 embarrassed +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 to 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 that 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 humor, good-breeding, and (if you +have it) with urbanity; for you have not yet heard 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 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 group 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 +preeminence 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, throughout all their, and +probably the neighboring, dominions. With a moderate share of sagacity, +you will, before you have been half an hour in their company, easily +discover those 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. + +What the French justly call ‘les manieres nobles’ are only to be acquired +in the very best companies. They are the distinguishing 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 mention for 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 that I have skill enough in that kind of painting +to discover the true features, though ever so artfully colored, or thrown +into skillful 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 +colors of a French regiment of grenadiers; it was represented bursting, +with this motto under it: ‘Peream dum luceam’. + +I like the description of your PIC-NIC; 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 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 that 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. + + + + +LETTER LVI + +LONDON, November 18, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: Whatever I see or whatever I hear, my first consideration is, +whether it can in any way be useful to you. As a proof of this, I went +accidentally the other day into a print-shop, where, among many others, I +found one print from a famous design of Carlo Maratti, who died about +thirty years ago, and was the last eminent painter in Europe: the subject +is ‘il Studio del Disegno’; or “The School of Drawing.” An old man, +supposed to be the master, points to his scholars, who are variously +employed in perspective, geometry, and the observation of the statues of +antiquity. With regard to perspective, of which there are some little +specimens, he has wrote, ‘Tanto che basti’, that is, “As much as is +sufficient”; with regard to geometry, ‘Tanto che basti’ again; with +regard to the contemplation of the ancient statues, there is written, +‘Non mai a bastanza’,--“There never can be enough.” But in the clouds, at +the top of the piece, are represented the three Graces, with this just +sentence written over them, ‘Senza di noi ogni fatica e vana’, that is, +“Without us, all labor is vain.” This everybody allows to be true in +painting; but all people do not seem to consider, as I hope you will, +that this truth is full as applicable to every other art or science; +indeed to everything that is to be said or done. I will send you the +print itself by Mr. Eliot, when he returns; and I will advise you to make +the same use of it that the Roman Catholics say they do of the pictures +and images of their saints, which is, only to remind them of those; for +the adoration they disclaim. Nay, I will go further, as the transition +from Popery to Paganism is short and easy, I will classically end +poetically advise you to invoke, and sacrifice to them every day, and all +the day. It must be owned, that the Graces do not seem to be natives of +Great Britain; and, I doubt, the best of us here have more of rough than +polished diamond. + +Since barbarism drove them out of Greece and Rome, they seem to have +taken refuge in France, where their temples are numerous, and their +worship the established one. Examine yourself seriously, why such and +such people please and engage you, more than such and such others, of +equal merit; and you will always find that it is because the former have +the Graces and the latter not. I have known many a woman with an exact +shape, and a symmetrical assemblage of beautiful features, please nobody; +while others, with very moderate shapes and features, have charmed +everybody. Why? because Venus will not charm so much, without her +attendant Graces, as they will without her. Among men, how often have I +seen the most solid merit and knowledge neglected, unwelcome, or even +rejected, for want of them! While flimsy parts, little knowledge, and +less merit, introduced by the Graces, have been received, cherished, and +admired. Even virtue, which is moral beauty, wants some of its charms if +unaccompanied by them. + +If you ask me how you shall acquire what neither you nor I can define or +ascertain, I can only answer, BY OBSERVATION. Form yourself, with regard +to others, upon what you feel pleases you in them. I can tell you the +importance, the advantage, of having the Graces; but I cannot give them +you: I heartily wish I could, and I certainly would; for I do not know a +better present that I could make you. To show you that a very wise, +philosophical, and retired man thinks upon that subject as I do, who have +always lived in the world, I send you, by Mr. Eliot, the famous Mr. +Locke’s book upon education; in which you will end the stress that he +lays upon the Graces, which he calls (and very truly) good-breeding. I +have marked all the parts of that book that are worth your attention; for +as he begins with the child, almost from its birth, the parts relative to +its infancy would be useless to you. Germany is, still less than England, +the seat of the Graces; however, you had as good not say so while you are +there. But the place which you are going to, in a great degree, is; for I +have known as many well-bred, pretty men come from Turin, as from any +part of Europe. The late King Victor Amedee took great pains to form such +of his subjects as were of any consideration, both to business and +manners; the present king, I am told, follows his example: this, however, +is certain, that in all courts and congresses, where there are various +foreign ministers, those of the King of Sardinia are generally the +ablest, the politest, and ‘les plus delies’. You will therefore, at +Turin, have very good models to form yourself upon: and remember, that +with regard to the best models, as well as to the antique Greek statues +in the print, ‘non mai a bastanza’. Observe every word, look, and motion +of those who are allowed to be the most accomplished persons there. +Observe their natural and careless, but genteel air; their unembarrassed +good-breeding; their unassuming, but yet unprostituted dignity. Mind +their decent mirth, their discreet frankness, and that ‘entregent’ which, +as much above the frivolous as below the important and the secret, is the +proper medium for conversation in mixed companies. I will observe, by the +bye, that the talent of that light ‘entregent’ is often of great use to a +foreign minister; not only as it helps him to domesticate himself in many +families, but also as it enables him to put by and parry some subjects of +conversation, which might possibly lay him under difficulties both what +to say and how to look. + +Of all the men that ever I knew in my life (and I knew him extremely +well), the late Duke of Marlborough possessed the graces in the highest +degree, not to say engrossed them; and indeed he got the most by them; +for I will venture (contrary to the custom of profound historians, who +always assign deep causes for great events), to ascribe the better half +of the Duke of Marlborough’s greatness and riches to those graces. He was +eminently illiterate; wrote bad English and spelled it still worse. He +had no share of what is commonly called PARTS: that is, he had no +brightness, nothing shining in his genius. He had most undoubtedly, an +excellent good plain understanding with sound judgment. But these alone, +would probably have raised him but something higher than they found him; +which was page to King James the Second’s queen. There the Graces +protected and promoted him; for while he was an ensign of the Guards, the +Duchess of Cleveland, then favorite mistress to King Charles the Second, +struck by those very Graces, gave him five thousand pounds, with which he +immediately bought an annuity for his life of five hundred pounds a year, +of my grandfather Halifax; which was the foundation of his subsequent +fortune. His figure was beautiful; but his manner was irresistible, by +either man or woman. It was by this engaging, graceful manner, that he +was enabled, during all his war, to connect the various and jarring +powers of the Grand Alliance, and to carry them on to the main object of +the war, notwithstanding their private and separate views, jealousies, +and wrongheadednesses. Whatever court he went to (and he was often +obliged to go himself to some resty and refractory ones), he as +constantly prevailed, and brought them into his measures. The Pensionary +Heinsius, a venerable old minister, grown gray in business, and who had +governed the republic of the United Provinces for more than forty years, +was absolutely governed by the Duke of Marlborough, as that republic +feels to this day. He was always cool; and nobody ever observed the least +variation in his countenance; he could refuse more gracefully than other +people could grant; and those who went away from him the most +dissatisfied as to the substance of their business, were yet personally +charmed with him and, in some degree, comforted by his manner. With all +his gentleness and gracefulness, no man living was more conscious of his +situation, nor maintained his dignity better. + +With the share of knowledge which you have already gotten, and with the +much greater which I hope you will soon acquire, what may you not expect +to arrive at, if you join all these graces to it? In your destination +particularly, they are in truth half your business: for, if you once gain +the affections as well as the esteem of the prince or minister of the +court to which you are sent, I will answer for it, that will effectually +do the business of the court that sent you; otherwise it is up-hill work. +Do not mistake, and think that these graces which I so often and so +earnestly recommend to you, should only accompany important transactions, +and be worn only ‘les jours de gala’; no, they should, if possible, +accompany every, the least thing you do or say; for, if you neglect them +in little things, they will leave you in great ones. I should, for +instance, be extremely concerned to see you even drink a cup of coffee +ungracefully, and slop yourself with it, by your awkward manner of +holding it; nor should I like to see your coat buttoned, or your shoes +buckled awry. But I should be outrageous, if I heard you mutter your +words unintelligibly, stammer, in your speech, or hesitate, misplace, and +mistake in your narrations; and I should run away from you with greater +rapidity, if possible, than I should now run to embrace you, if I found +you destitute of all those graces which I have set my heart upon their +making you one day, ‘omnibus ornatum excellere rebus’. + +This subject is inexhaustible, as it extends to everything that is to be +said or done: but I will leave it for the present, as this letter is +already pretty long. Such is my desire, my anxiety for your perfection, +that I never think I have said enough, though you may possibly think that +I have said too much; and though, in truth, if your own good sense is not +sufficient to direct you, in many of these plain points, all that I or +anybody else can say will be insufficient. But where you are concerned, I +am the insatiable man in Horace, who covets still a little corner more to +complete the figure of his field. I dread every little corner that may +deform mine, in which I would have (if possible) no one defect. + +I this moment receive yours of the 17th, N. S., and cannot condole with +you upon the secession of your German ‘Commensaux’; who both by your and +Mr. Harte’s description, seem to be ‘des gens d’une amiable absence’; +and, if you can replace them by any other German conversation, you will +be a gainer by the bargain. I cannot conceive, if you understand German +well enough to read any German book, how the writing of the German +character can be so difficult and tedious to you, the twenty-four letters +being very soon learned; and I do not expect that you should write yet +with the utmost purity and correctness, as to the language: what I meant +by your writing once a fortnight to Grevenkop, was only to make the +written character familiar to you. However, I will be content with one in +three weeks or so. + +I believe you are not likely to see Mr. Eliot again soon, he being still +in Cornwall with his father; who, I hear, is not likely to recover. +Adieu. + + + + +LETTER LVII + +LONDON, November 29, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: I delayed writing to you till I could give you 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 that he may possibly join +you at Turin; sooner, to be sure, 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 remembering 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 on 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 Hamburg next week (and by which +Hawkins sends Mr. Harte some things that he wrote for) all those which I +propose sending you by Mr. Eliot, together with a very little box that I +am desired to forward to Mr. Harte. There will be, likewise, two letters +of recommendation 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 irrecoverably lost; whereas, if you keep good company, and +company 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 abundanti’, return soon to my former prolixity; and +you will receive more and more last words from, Yours. + + + + +LETTER LVIII + +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, toward the last, +lethargic, his end was not painful to himself. At the distance which you +are at 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 Hamburg, I shall send you those +things which I proposed to have sent you by Mr. Eliot, viz., a little box +from your Mamma; a less box for Mr. Harte; Mr. Locke’s book upon +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 you into the best +company; and I hope you will not (as many of your countrymen 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 necessary 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 valuable 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 attention which only the latter +deserve. To such mistakes we owe the numerous and frivolous tribes of +insect-mongers, shell-mongers, 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 curious. 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 you need wish to know, in a superficial but +pretty French book, entitled, ‘Spectacle de la Nature’; which will amuse +you while you read it, and 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 your 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. + + + + +LETTER LIX + +LONDON, December 13, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR 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 at 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 concerned as I am in the game you are playing, even 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. +Mascow is much known and esteemed in the republic of letters, I think it +would be of advantage to you, if you got letters of recommendation 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 intrinsic worth. + +Your friend Duval dined with me the other day, and complained most +grievously that he had not heard from you above a year; I bid 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 inclosed 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 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; 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 fair excuses, if your performance should fall +something short; though I do not apprehend that it will. + +While you have been at Leipsig, which is a place of study more than of +pleasure or company, you have had all opportunities 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 +splendor 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 contrary; 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 +evenings spent in the pleasures of good company, will go as far in +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 that you can speak German, which then they will choose to +speak. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER LX + +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 German 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 +that 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 +afterward 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 improve 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 every man’s power to write what hand he pleases; +and, consequently, that he ought to write a good one. You form, +particularly, your ‘ee’ and your ‘ll’ in zigzag, instead of making them +straight, as thus, ‘ee’, ‘ll’; 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 got very +near the goal of Greek and Latin; and therefore I cannot suppose that, as +your sense increases, your endeavors 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, for a gentleman, 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: 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 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 that 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 favorite, 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 without 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, singly from their number, +must to a certain degree be respected, though they are by no means +respectable. And a man who will show every knave or fool that he thinks +him such, will engage in a most ruinous war, against numbers 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 neither of them, +unnecessarily, see that you do so. Some complaisance 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 that 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 that 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 posthouse 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 recommend 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 favor 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 favor; and that you true Germans +cannot allow Danes to be competent judges of your language, etc. + + + + +LETTER LXI + +LONDON, December 30, O. S. 1748. + +DEAR BOY: I direct this letter to Berlin, where, I suppose, it will +either find you, or at least wait but a very little time for you. I +cannot help being anxious for your success, at this your first appearance +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 him; 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 tremendous, 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 defense, 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 resembling them equally in their +insides. A man of sense carefully avoids any particular character in his +dress; he is accurately clean for his own sake; but all the rest is for +other people’s. He 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 +yourself 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 afterward; 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 those important subjects, that I can add nothing to what I have +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 accompanied 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 of nothing. When you are (not) in company, +learn what either books, masters, or Mr. Harte, can teach you; and when +you are in company, learn (what company can only 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 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 Monsieur Descartes’ 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 +that 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 that 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 that I could expect, +or hope, from the sagacity of the person. + +I send you, my dear child (and you will not doubt it), very sincerely, +the wishes of the season. May you deserve a great 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, honor, and knowledge, alone can merit, alone can +procure, ‘Dii tibi dent annos, de te nam cetera sumes’, was a pretty +piece of poetical flattery, where it was said: I hope that, in time, it +may be no flattery when said to you. But I assure you, that wherever I +cannot apply the latter part of the line to you with truth, I shall +neither say, think, or wish the former. Adieu! + + + + + LETTERS TO HIS SON + 1749 + + By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + + on the Fine Art of becoming a + + MAN OF THE WORLD + + and a + + GENTLEMAN + + + +LETTER LXII + +LONDON, January 10, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: I have received your letter of the 31st 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 toyshop; snuff-boxes, watches, heads of +canes, etc., are his destruction. His servants and tradesmen conspire +with his own indolence to cheat him; 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 +care 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 money, +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 minutia 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 twopence, 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 citrave 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 +puritanism from criminal relaxation; in religion, superstition from +impiety: and, in short, every virtue 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 I 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 particular 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 exercised, and inquire +into the numbers of troops and companies in the respective regiments of +horse, foot, and dragoons; the numbers and titles of the commissioned 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 subject 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 profession. +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 law-suits; a great work, and worthy +of so great a prince! As he is indisputably the ablest prince in Europe, +every part of his government 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; 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 endeavor 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. Monsieur Cagenoni, 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! + + + + +LETTER LXIII + +LONDON, January 24, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR 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 who you see and hear, in +your several places of residence; for I interest myself as much in the +company you keep, and the pleasures you take, as in the studies you +pursue; and therefore, equally desire to be informed of them all. 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 produced what Mr. Pope calls a +souterkin 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 a single combat. + +You may if you please, and therefore I flatter myself that you will, +profit considerably by your stay at Berlin, in the article 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 more 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 +the 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. + +The same in civil matters: inform yourself of the jurisdiction of a court +of justice; of the rules and numbers and endowments of a college, or an +academy, and not only of 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 I shall be of +you, if you should profit, as you may, of the opportunities 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! + + + + +LETTER LXIV + +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 the 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 presumed 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 reasoning 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 prejudice 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. + +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 had 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 +Greek 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 recte +sentire’. Whereas now, without any extraordinary 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 favorers 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 act in defense of it, because he had quarreled with +Agamemnon about a w---e; and then afterward, 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 armor 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 favorers 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 excellencies and their +defects, their virtues and their vices, just like the moderns; pedantry +and affectation of learning decide clearly in favor of the former; vanity +and ignorance, as peremptorily in favor of the latter. Religious +prejudices kept 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 that I adopted were those of the ‘beau monde’, in +which as I was determined to shine, I took what are commonly called the +genteel vices to be necessary. I had heard them reckoned so, and without +further 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 analyze everything, +in order to form a sound and mature judgment; let no (authority) 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 unerring guide; for human reason is not infallible; but +it will prove the least erring guide that you can follow. Books and +conversation 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 contribute more to order and quiet than their +own separate reasonings 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 conviction, 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 Chillingworth. + +The idle story of the pretender’s having been introduced 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 l’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 cultivated, informed, and reflecting +minds. But then they 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 reasoning +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, 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 mathematician, an +astronomer, a poet, or an orator, I confess I never 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 what hinders them from +thinking as they please? If indeed they think in 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 Lewis +XIV.; and the celebrated authors of the Augustan age did not shine till +after the fetters were riveted upon the Roman people by that cruel and +worthless Emperor. The revival of letters was not owing, neither, 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 favor 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. + + + + +LETTER LXV + +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 that reception; for +he says that 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 become 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 Demosthenes 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-accomplished man that I wish to have you. It +entirely depends upon these two years; they are the decisive ones. + +I send you here inclosed a letter of recommendation to Monsieur Capello, +at Venice, which you will deliver him immediately upon your arrival, +accompanying it with compliments from me to him and Madame, both of 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 afterward at Rome, where he is +appointed to go ambassador. By the way, wherever you are, I would advise +you to frequent, as 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 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 government, which strangers are allowed to +see; as the Assembly of the Senate, etc., and also to inform yourself of +that peculiar and intricate form of government. There are books which +give an account of it, among which the best is Amelot de la Houssaye, +which 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 recommended 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. + + + + +LETTER LXVI + +DEAR BOY: I direct this letter to your banker at Venice, the surest place +for you to meet with it, though I suppose that it will be there some time +before you; for, as your intermediate stay anywhere else will be 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; with a letter of recommendation to Monsieur Capello, at +Venice, which was inclosed 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 in that extraordinary 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 inclosed letters of recommendation from Sir James Grey, +the King’s Resident at Venice, but 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 about your own age; +among whom it is to be expected that some will be dissipated and idle, +others vicious and profligate. I will believe, 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 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 that 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 forever. 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 forever; but should the +contagion of vice of idleness lay hold of you there, your character, your +fortune, my hopes, and consequently my favor are all blasted, and you are +undone. The more I love you now, from the good opinion 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 doubtful 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 dissatisfied +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 defense. + +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 Grey’s letters not being yet sent to me, as I thought +they would, I shall inclose them in my next, which I believe will get to +Venice as soon as you. + + + + +LETTER LXVII + +LONDON, April 12, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR 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 ‘Bellum Tricennale’, as to be looking out for their great-grandsons +in Bohemia, with that affection with which, I am informed, you seek for +the 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 go together. I examined them, particularly +Comte Lascaris, concerning you; their report is a very favorable 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; and, if Mr. Harte would let you be idle, I am convinced +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 +that 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; where you will soon make yourself perfectly master of Italian, from +the daily necessity you will be under of speaking it. In the mean time, I +insist upon your not neglecting, much less forgetting, the German you +already know; which you may not only continue but improve, by speaking 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. + +I send you the inclosed letter of recommendation to Mr. Smith the King’s +Consul at Venice; who can, and I daresay 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. + + + + +LETTER LXVIII + +LONDON, April 19, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR 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’s 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 profession 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 cautioning you against giving in to +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. + +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: ‘Il a +de l’esprit, un savoir peu commun a son age, une grande vivacite, et +quand il aura pris des manieres il sera parfait; car il faut avouer qu’il +sent encore le college; mars 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 I am convinced you will now soon acquire, in the company +which henceforward you are likely to keep. But I must add, too, that if +you should not acquire them, all the rest will be of 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; 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 thy 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 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 descriptions 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 attention, such +as deep ecclesiastical craft and policy. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER LXIX + +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 you 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 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 I desire you will diligently apply; for though French is, +I believe, the language of the court at Turin, yet Italian will be very +necessary for you at Rome, 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, contrescarpe, +etc. In order to this, I do not propose that you should make a study of +fortification, 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 neighborhood of great +ones, must be alert and look out sharp, if he would secure his own +dominions: much more still if he would enlarge them. He must watch for +conjunctures or endeavor 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 inclosed a letter from Comte Lascaris, who is a warm +friend of yours: I desire that you will answer it very soon and +cordially, and remember to make your compliments in it to Comte du +Perron. A young man should never be wanting in those attentions; they +cost little and bring in a great deal, by getting you people’s good word +and affection. 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, either in 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. + + + + +LETTER LXX + +LONDON, May 15, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: This letter will, I hope, find you settled to your serious +studies, and your necessary exercises at Turin, after the hurry and the +dissipation of the Carnival at Venice. I mean that your stay at Turin +should, and I flatter 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. 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 +invulnerable. 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 behavior, 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 they 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 ‘mauvaise 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, that they generally take their vices in the lower 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 amusement; 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 +ungentlemanlike 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 ends, and their hair greasy and +unpowdered, tucked up under their hats of an enormous size. Thus finished +and adorned by their travels, they become the disturbers of play-houses; +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 bawdy-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 their religious +or moral texts; I am persuaded that 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 +to 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 practiced them; would obstruct their rising in the +world by debasing their characters; and give them 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 +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 honnete debauche, une jolie debauche; “An +agreeable rake, a man of pleasure.” Do not think that this means +debauchery and profligacy; nothing like it. It means, at most, the +accidental and unfrequent irregularities of youth and vivacity, in +opposition to dullness, 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 behavior from Comte 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, afterward, yourself. +You had very good teeth, and I hope they are so still; but even 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 form 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 attentions to such +men and women as are best at court, highest in the fashion, and in the +opinion of the public; speak advantageously of them behind their backs, +in companies whom 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 person 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 may be the judge of those persons. + +Adieu my dear child! Consider seriously the importance of the two next +years to your character, your figure, and your fortune. + + + + +LETTER LXXI + +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 consequently 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 practices 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 reminds +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 hinders 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 countenance, 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 themselves. You will say, possibly, that +this coolness must be constitutional, 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 madness (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 attention. +I should desire nothing better, in any negotiation, than to have to do +with one of those men of warm, quick passions; which I would take care to +set in motion. By artful provocations I would extort rash unguarded +expressions; and, 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 +stretti’, is a most useful maxim in business. It is so necessary at some +games, such as ‘Berlan Quinze’, etc., that a man who had not the command +of his temper and countenance, would infallibly be outdone 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 further, and say, that without some dissimulation no +business can be carried on at 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 the first +opportunity, says very justly that simulation is a STILETTO,--not only an +unjust but an unlawful weapon, and the use of it very rarely to be +excused, never justified. Whereas dissimulation is a shield, as secrecy +is armor; and it is no more possible to preserve secrecy in business, +without same 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 necessary, 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 redoubles 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 failed, try another; be active, persevere, and you will +conquer. Some people are to be reasoned, some flattered, some +intimidated, and some teased into a thing; but, in general, all are to be +brought into it at last, if skillfully 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, anger, 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 attention all the operations of your own mind, +the nature of your passions, and the various motives that determine your +will; and you may, in a great degree, know all mankind. For instance, 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 +good will, good word, interest, esteem, or friendship, you would gain, +feel that superiority in you, in case you have it. If disagreeable +insinuations, sly sneers, or repeated contradictions, tease and irritate +you, would you use them where you wish to engage and 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 commonly received, has made people +who can say them, and, still oftener, people who think they can, but +cannot, and 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; but, 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 fair one, and the jest a +good one, and play off the whole thing in seeming good humor; 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 honor 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 conversing with any others) +deserves some share in your reflections. 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 +necessary. But where you would particularly please anyone, 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 favor. 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! + + + + +LETTER LXXII + +LONDON, June 16, O. S. 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 Laubach; 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 due this +day is not yet come in; so that my informations come down no lower than +the 2d 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 going 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. + + + + +LETTER LXXIII + +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. Harts of +the 6th. They arrived at a very proper time, for they found a +consultation of physicians in my room, upon 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 LUNGS NOW AND THEN GIVE YOU A LITTLE PAIN, 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 your 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 +recommend 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 +that you are above the silly likings or dislikings, in which silly people +indulge their tastes, at the expense of their health. + +I approve of your going to Venice, as much as I disapproved 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 water offensive, at this time of the year, I would have +you go immediately to Verona, and stay there till the great heats are +over, before you return to Venice. + +The time which you will probably pass at Venice will allow you to make +yourself master of that intricate and singular form of government, of +which few of our travelers know anything. 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 different 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, likewise, +whether in their groups there be a 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., of whom you will see, as well in +private houses as in churches, very fine pieces. The Last Supper, of Paul +Veronese, in the church of St. George, is reckoned his capital +performance, and deserves your attention; as does also the famous picture +of the Cornaro Family, by Titian. A taste for sculpture and painting is, +in my mind, as becoming as a taste for 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, and do nothing else to +it. Adieu! ‘Jubeo te bene valere’. + + + + +LETTER LXXIV + +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 correspondence 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 (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 transporting 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 afterward 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 pulito, 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 Mr. +Harte’s written accounts of you, and the verbal ones which I now and then +receive from people who have seen you. However, I believe it would do you +no harm, if you would always imagine that I were 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 ‘l’aimable’; and which, now that 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 unpleasant, 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 forever 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 properly 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 fleshbrush, 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 inclosed a letter of recommendation to the 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 language, 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! + + + + +LETTER LXXV + +LONDON, July 20, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR 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 Tiefler, 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; pray answer the letter which I forwarded to you +a great while ago from him. You may inclose 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 be 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 upon your pleasing, and consequently +succeeding in the world, that possibly 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 armor 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 illplaced. + +I am this moment agreeably stopped, in the course of my reflections, by +the arrival of Mr. Harte’s letter of the 13th July, N. S., to Mr. +Grevenkop, with one inclosed 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 that you have no complaint upon your lungs; +but I desire that you will think you have, for three or four months to +come. 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 illness; fetch it +up now that 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 which remain for study must be not only attentively, +but greedily employed. 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 inclosed a letter for Cardinal Alexander Albani, which +you will give him, as soon as you get to Rome, and before you deliver any +others; the Purple expects that preference; go next to the Duc 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, especially of its most +remarkable eras; such as the Ligue de eambray, 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 +knowledge; and the writings of the celebrated and learned Fra 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 +inefficiency; 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’Ensiedlen 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 gladder +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 operation. + + + + +LETTER LXXVI + +LONDON, July 30, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: Mr. Harte’s letters and yours drop in upon me most irregularly; +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 much too long and painful +a journey for you; but you will have found, by my subsequent letters, +that I entirely approved 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 Laubach. I love capitals extremely; 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 awkwardness, that distinguish their manners from those +of the metropolis. ‘A propos’ of capitals, I 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 Comte d’Einsiedlen so narrowly concerning you, that I +have extorted from him a confession that you do 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 Saxon 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 that you have already taken about it are lost. You +will remember likewise, that, till you can 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 ought to have regard to that, in your common diet as well as in your +medicines; both which should be of a sweetening alkaline nature, 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 than fifty in the superstructure; 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 foundation; 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 attractive; but +without a solid foundation, can hardly be seen twice, because it must +soon tumble down. Yours affectionately. + + + + +LETTER LXXVII + +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 particulars +both of your past distemper, and of your future motions. As to the +former, I am now convinced, and so is Dr. 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 quid nimis’, 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 last 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, whose +taste and style of buildings 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; 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 +mechanical part 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, uninterruptedly, 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 learned; and, above +all, you must learn the world, which is not soon learned; and only to be +learned by frequenting good and various companies. + +Consider, therefore, how precious every moment of time is to you now. The +more you apply to your business, the more you 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 examples, instead of inviting us to +imitation, should only put us the more upon our guard against such +weaknesses: and 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! + + + + +LETTER LXXVIII + +LONDON, August 20, 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 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 traveler. + +There is a certain dignity of manners absolutely necessary, to make even +the most valuable character either respected or respectable.--[Meaning +worthy of respect.] + +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 dubbs you their dependent 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; consequently 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 blustering, or true wit +from joking; but is absolutely inconsistent with it; for nothing vilifies +and degrades more than pride. The pretensions of the proud man are +oftener treated with sneer and contempt, than 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 modest +assertion of one’s own opinion, and a complaisant acquiescence to 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 unjustly) 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 whifing +activity of the body, are strong indications 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 he would be: of such consequence is the [****], 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 [****], 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 briars; rotten 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 +that 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. + + + + +LETTER LXXIX + +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 re covered of your late illness: which I am daily more and more +convinced had no consumptive tendency; however, 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 friendship, produces and +reconciles 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 tomorrow to make your option between +them as enemies; observe, therefore, such a degree of reserve with your +friends as not to put yourself 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-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 every man 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 chamber-maid. 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 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 favorable 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 that 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, +reglees selon toutes 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 Lettres,--“Notwithstanding his great youth, his manners are +regulated by the most unexceptionable rules of sense and of morality. His +application THAT IS WHAT I LIKE to every kind of serious study, as well +as to polite literature, without even the least appearance of +ostentatious pedantry, render him worthy of your most tender affection; +and I have the honor of assuring you, that everyone cannot but be pleased +with the acquisition of his acquaintance or of his friendship. I have +profited of it, both here and at Vienna; and shall esteem myself very +happy to make use of the permission he has given me of continuing it by +letter.” 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 further +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 this work; and when this work is finished well, +your own will be very easily done afterward. ‘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 companies you now go +into will procure them you, if you will carefully 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. + + + + +LETTER LXXX + +LONDON, September 5, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: I have received yours from Laubach, of the 17th of August, N. +S., with the inclosed 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 country you go 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 be 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, France, 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 weakness, 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 endeavoring 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 a 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 Comptesse +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), especially at Rome; +probably the Pretender himself. It is none of your business to declare +war to these people, as little as it is 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 conversation or +debates with them; tell them that you do not concern yourself with +political matters: that you are neither 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 further +into matters with them, which can be of no use, and might bring on heats +and quarrels. When you speak of the old Pretender, 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 altercations 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, 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 would 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 unexpected 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 am persuaded, make you vain and coxcomical, but only encourage you +to go on in the right way. + + + + +LETTER LXXXI + +LONDON, September 12, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: It seems extraordinary, but it is very true, that my anxiety +for you increases in 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 labored 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 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 consequently 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 continued 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 assemblies, balls, SPECTACLES, +and in the best companies; with this restriction only, that the +consequences of the evening’s diversions may not break in upon the +morning’s 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 that 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 persuaded +it will be as much your own inclination as it is mine. But those +frivolous, idle people, whose time hangs upon their 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 honor. The shortest civil answers +are the best; I CANNOT, I DARE NOT, instead of I WILL NOT; for if you +were to enter with them into the necessity of study end the usefulness of +knowledge, it would only furnish them with matter for 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 best 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 other’s 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 yourself; 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 tomorrow? there will be +four or five of our countrymen; we have provided chaises, and we will +drive 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. + +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 that 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; 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 +purpose. + +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, and 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! 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 excellent 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 among them with all their formalities 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 women 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 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. All +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 is 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 tomorrow, which you as +certainly will be; and so good night, too. + +You will observe, that I have not put into 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, disgraceful 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 +carcass, if they happen to arrive at old age, it is an uneasy and +ignominious one. The ridicule which such fellows endeavor 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 pleasures; which I always desire +shall be gratified. You will suppose 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 Imperii’, 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 already 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 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. + + + + +LETTER LXXXII + +LONDON, September 22, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: If I had 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 correctness of your knowledge, as +it might either make you vain, or persuade 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 learning, 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 satisfactory 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, howsoever immaterial 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 +inattention 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 woman 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; +whereas, 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, or 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 of 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 traction 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 allow him any increase of wages upon that score. 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 the 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; 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----‘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 with absent +people), he does not know his most intimate acquaintance by sight, or +answers them as if he 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 management of them, seem to have undergone the question +extraordinaire; 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 virtue; but, +for the soul of me, I cannot love him in company. This will be +universally the case, in common life, of every inattentive, awkward man, +let his real merit and knowledge 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 of +evenings, as to my books and my tutor in the mornings. A young fellow +should be ambitious 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 endeavor to please, +cannot forgive 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 that +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 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, ‘l’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. + +Our 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 from +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 that 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 in better hands than in +Mr. Harte’s; and I will stake his infallibility against the Pope’s, with +some odds on his side. Apropos of the Pope: remember to be presented to +him before you leave Rome, and go through the necessary ceremonies for +it, whether of kissing his slipper or his b---h; for I would never +deprive myself of anything that I wanted to do or see, by refusing to +comply with an established custom. When I was in 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 themselves, that I would quarrel with +nobody about them. It may, indeed, be improper for Mr. Harte to pay that +tribute of complaisance, 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. + + + + +LETTER LXXXIII + +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 everything 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 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 twopence, 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 savors +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 neighborhood; all which +he relates with emphasis, as interesting matters. He is a man gossip. + +Vulgarism in language is the next and distinguishing characteristic 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 respectfully calls it, that WHAT IS ONE MAN’S MEAT, IS +ANOTHER MAN’S POISON. If anybody attempts being SMART, as he calls it, +upon him, he gives them TIT FOR TAT, aye, that he does. He has always +some favorite 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 favorite 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-handedness (if I may use that word), loudly proclaim 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 encumbrances 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 unfortunately 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 proprietor. 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 condition, le +ton de la bonne compagnie, les graces, le jeune sais 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 favors 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 things as they deserve, +and you will not lose one minute in the pursuit of them. + +You are traveling now in a country once so famous both for arts and arms, +that (however degenerate 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) KNICK-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 painting, +sculpture, and architecture, if you please, by a careful examination 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 good-nature and generosity than parts. However, I will show him all +the civilities that his kindness to you so justly deserves. He tells me +that you are taller than I am, which I am very glad of: I desire that you +may excel me in everything 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 favorable +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 +extremely. 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! + + + + +LETTER LXXXIV + +LONDON, October 2, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: I received by the last post your letter of the 22d September, +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 conveniently +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 headquarters 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 headquarters, 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: 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 restrictions, draw, +and welcome. + +As for Turin, you may go there hereafter, as a traveler, 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. + +Since your health is so well restored, I am not sorry that you have +returned to Venice, for I love capitals. Everything is best at capitals; +the best masters, the best companions, 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 favorable 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 word 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 sizes 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 favorable, but pleasing, +engaging, nay, seducing. They are often decisive; I confess they are a +good deal so with me: and I cannot wish for further 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 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 send it me in a letter: it is +all one to me whether in enamel or in watercolors, provided it is but +very like you. I would have you drawn exactly as you are, and in no +whimsical dress: and 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 inclose it in a letter to me, which letter, for greater +security, I would have you desire Sir James Gray to inclose 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 of 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 sano’, 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 Albani and the +Duke de Nivernois, at Rome? + + + + +LETTER LXXXV + +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 attention; 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 +learned in capitals, where every human 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 is 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 +principal 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; declining 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 territories +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 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; and they are the principal missionaries +out of it; which three articles give them a most extensive influence and +solid advantages; witness their settlement in Paraguay. The 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 villainy 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 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 afterward 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. + + + + +LETTER LXXXVI + +LONDON, October 17, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: I have at last received Mr. Harte’s letter of the 19th +September, N. S., from Verona. Your reasons for leaving that place were +very good ones; and as you stayed 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 expense, I am well aware, will be so +too; but that, as I told you before, will have no weight when your +improvement and advantage 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 travelers. + +Mr. Harte tells me, that he intends to give you, by means of Signor +Vicentini, a general notion of civil and military architecture; 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 skillful 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 intercolumniations, their several uses, etc. The +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 architecture; and for the minute and mechanical parts of it, leave +them to masons, bricklayers, and Lord Burlington, who has, to a certain +extent, 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 execution with some skillful 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 minutia, 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. 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 sort 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 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. Gravenkop. 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 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 that there is none but good company at those +assemblies, I am very glad to find that you like good company so well. I +already imagine that you are a little, smoothed by it; and that you have +either reasoned yourself, or that they have laughed you out of your +absences and DISTRACTIONS; for I cannot suppose that you go there to +insult them. I likewise imagine, that you wish to be welcome where you +wish to go; and consequently, that you both present and behave yourself +there ‘en galant homme, et pas in bourgeois’. + +If you have vowed to anybody there one of those eternal passions which I +have sometimes known, by great accident, last three months, I can tell +you that without great attention, infinite politeness, and engaging air +and manners, the omens will be sinister, and the goddess unpropitious. +Pray tell me what are the amusements of those assemblies? Are they little +commercial play, are they music, are they ‘la belle conversation’, or are +they all three? ‘Y file-t-on le parfait amour? Y debite-t-on les beaux +sentimens? Ou est-ce yu’on y parle Epigramme? And pray which is your +department? ‘Tutis depone in auribus’. Whichever it is, endeavor to shine +and excel in it. Aim at least at the perfection of everything that is +worth doing at all; and you will come nearer it than you would imagine; +but those always crawl infinitely short of it whose aim is only +mediocrity. Adieu. + +P. S. By an uncommon diligence of the post, I have this moment received +yours of the 9th, N. S. + + + + +LETTER LXXXVII + +LONDON, October 24, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: By my last I only acknowledged, by this I answer, your letter +of the 9th October, N. S. + +I am very glad that you approved of my letter of September the 12th, O. +S., because it is upon that footing that I always propose living with +you. I will advise you seriously, as a friend of some experience, and I +will converse with you cheerfully as a companion; the authority of a +parent shall forever be laid aside; for, wherever it is exerted, it is +useless; since, if you have neither sense nor sentiments enough to follow +my advice as a friend, your unwilling obedience to my orders as a father +will be a very awkward and unavailing one both to yourself and me. +Tacitus, speaking of an army that awkwardly and unwillingly obeyed its +generals only from the fear of punishment, says, they obeyed indeed, ‘Sed +ut qua mallent jussa Imperatorum interpretari, quam exequi’. For my own +part, I disclaim such obedience. + +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 question, 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 be +very soon master of that 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 traveler must amount to a number of thalers, groschen, and kreutzers, +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 promises 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. ‘Il est vrai qui’il ne paie pas beaucaup 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 smallpox, which +she got here, by lessening her beauty, lessened her humors 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 complaisance, 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 sais quoi’ that ever pleases. I have reason to believe that you want +nothing else; but I have reason to fear too, that you want those: and +that want will keep you poor in the midst of all the plenty of knowledge +which you may have treasured up. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER LXXXVIII + +LONDON, November 3, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: From the time that you have had life, it has been the principle +and favorite 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 you see in the characters of +men. While you were a child, I endeavored to form your heart habitually +to virtue and honor, 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 understanding, either to comprehend or practice +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 themselves; and I should now just as soon think of +warning you gravely not to fall into the dirt or the fire, as into +dishonor 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 +afterward, and OF LATE (I will own it to your praise) your own +application, have more than answered my expectations 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. + +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 SAKE OF OTHERS, AND WITH A VIEW TO OBTAIN THE 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, indeed, they vary according to persons, and 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 between the +punishments than at first one would imagine. The immoral man, who invades +another man’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 +private 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 not used +to it, and that it costs him a great deal: but I never saw the worst-bred +man living guilty of lolling, whistling, scratching 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 one principal object of awe and respect, +people are apt to take a greater latitude in their behavior, 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, +everyone claims, and very justly, every mark of civility and +good-breeding. Ease is allowed, but carelessness and negligence 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 you 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 attentive, but an officious good-breeding from +men. Their little wants, likings, dislikes, preferences, antipathies, +fancies, whims, and even impertinencies, 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 conveniences and ‘agremens’ +which are of common right; such as the best places, the best dishes, +etc., but on the contrary, always decline them yourself, 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 endless 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 injurious 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 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, snore, or break wind 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, or a man and his mistress, who pass nights as well as days +together, absolutely lay aside all good-breeding, 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, 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, afterward 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 behavior and manners of those who are distinguished by their +good-breeding; imitate, nay, endeavor 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 covers the want of it. May you wear it to +adorn, and not to cover you! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER LXXXIX + +LONDON, November 14, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: There is a natural good-breeding which occurs to every man of +common sense, and is practiced by every man, of common good-nature. This +good-breeding is general, independent of modes, and consists in endeavors +to please and oblige our fellow-creatures by all good offices, short of +moral duties. This will be practiced 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 ‘agremens’ 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 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 stroke 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 manners +of the respective places where he is, and takes for his models those +persons whom he observes to be at the head of 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 understanding; 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 handsomest and +genteelest women, give the most philters; and, as I verily believe, +without the least assistance of the devil. Pray 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. The +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, by this time, you must have catched a good air in good +company. When you went from hence you were naturally awkward; but your +awkwardness was adventitious and Westmonasterial. Leipsig, I apprehend, +is not the seat of the Graces; and I presume you 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 un jeune homme’. And you should endeavor 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 donc le petit Stanhope? +due ne vient-il? Il faut 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 you 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 2d N. S., +which I will answer soon; in the meantime, I return him 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 tant 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! + + + + +LETTER XC + +DEAR 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, should go further, and explain to you the +necessity, which you, of all people living, lie under, not only of being +positively and 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 +practices. Bowing again to those who bow to you, answering dryly those +who speak to you, and saying nothing offensive to anybody, 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, cheerful, officious, seducing, good-breeding +that must gain you the good-will and first sentiments of men, and the +affections of the women. You must carefully watch and attend to their +passions, their tastes, their little humors 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 humor 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 favorite dish, +and take care to provide it for them; and when it came you should say, +You 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 I 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 afterward to all which that person says or does. The same +causes will have the same effects in your favor. 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 +conveniences 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 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 improbable) 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 +favorite, and, from a favorite, a minister; but all the knowledge 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 understanding. +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 +afterward 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 find in my heart +to inquire into the intrinsic merit of that person--I hastily decide in +myself that he can have none; and am not sure that 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 learning, 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 +toward me with inattention and DISTRACTIONS, I shall not pretend to +describe to you what I feel; but will do as a skillful 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 favor, nay, often purchases 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; an insinuating +softness in your looks, words, and actions; a spruce, lively air, +fashionable dress; and all the glitter that a young fellow should have. + +I am sure you would do a great deal for my sake; and therefore 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 honors 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. +L-----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 +practice 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 +savantes, et ne vous embrasseront point pour Pamour du Grec. They must +have ‘ilgarbato, il leggiadro, it disinvolto, il lusinghiero, quel non so +che, che piace, che alletta, che 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 would be mine, but the loss will be +yours. Lord Bolingbroke 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 adorned +with. And Pope very justly called him “All-accomplished 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 manners, 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. + + + + +LETTER XCI + +LONDON, November 24, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR Boy: Every rational being (I take it for granted) proposes to +himself some object more important than mere respiration and obscure +animal existence. He desires to distinguish himself among his +fellow-creatures; and, ‘alicui negotio intentus, prreclari facinoris, aut +artis bonae, faman quaerit’. Caesar, when embarking 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 vitam mortemque juxta aestumo; quoniam de utraque +siletur’. 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 princihium et fons’; but +it is by no means all. That knowledge must 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. + +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 elegancies 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 afterward laid before +parliament; 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 honor 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 quarter 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 favor; and so I +REST or REMAIN, Your, etc. + +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 dispatch with less than half these faults would blow you up forever. It +is by no means sufficient to be free from faults, in speaking and +writing; but you must do both correctly and elegantly. In faults of this +kind, it is not ‘ille optimus qui minimis arguetur’; 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 +elegance. 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 naval +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, speaking in defense 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, Dryden, +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 acquired 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 yourself, 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, particularly 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 languages. To our shame be it spoken, it is +less attended to here than in any polite country; but that is no reason +why you should not attend to it; 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 elegance of +style, with a graceful elocution, cover a multitude of faults, in either +a speaker or a writer. For my own part, I confess (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 barbarism 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 knowledge +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 elegance 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 hereafter +acquire, and with all 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 mortification 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 ‘Cicero 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 that you should produce more at +eighteen, than uncultivated soils do at eight-and-twenty. + +Pray tell Mr. Harte that 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. + + + + +LETTER XCII + +LONDON, November 27, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: While the Roman Republic flourished, while glory was pursued, +and virtue practiced, and while even little irregularities and +indecencies, not cognizable by law, were, however, not thought below the +public care, censors were established, discretionally to supply, in +particular cases, the inevitable defects of the law, which must and can +only be general. This employment I assume to myself with regard to your +little republic, leaving the legislative 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 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 by a partiality +to their faults. Where they hate they hurt themselves, by ill-timed +passion and rage. Fortunately for you, I never loved you in that mistaken +manner. From your infancy, I made you the object of my most serious +attention, and not my plaything. I consulted your real good, not your +humors 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 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, seductions, 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 authorize 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 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 +fortune, which I must be both desirous and proud to establish and +promote; I cannot be your rival either in love or in business; on the +contrary, I want the rays of your rising to reflect new lustre upon my +setting light. In order to this, I shall analyze 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 nickname: I +would not, for 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 +nicknames. 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.--[In compliance to your orders, I have examined young +Stanhope carefully, and think I have penetrated into his character. This +is his portrait, which I take to be a faithful one. His face is pleasing, +his countenance sensible, and his look clever. His figure is at present +rather too square; but if he shoots up, which he has matter and years +for, he will then be of a good size. He has, undoubtedly, a great fund of +acquired knowledge; I am assured that he is master of the learned +languages. As for French, I know he speaks it perfectly, and, I am told, +German as well. The questions he asks are judicious; and denote a thirst +after knowledge. I cannot say that he appears equally desirous of +pleasing, for he seems to neglect attentions and the graces. He does not +come into a room well, nor has he that easy, noble carriage, which would +be proper for him. It is true, he is as yet young and inexperienced; one +may therefore reasonably hope that his exercises, which he has not yet +gone through, and good company, in which he is still a novice, will +polish, and give all that is wanting to complete him. What seems +necessary for that purpose, would, be an attachment to some woman of +fashion, and who knows the world. Some Madame de l’Ursay would be the +proper person. In short, I can assure you, that he has everything which +Lord Chesterfield can wish him, excepting that carriage, those graces, +and the style used in the best company; which he will certainly acquire +in time, and by frequenting the polite world. If he should not, it would +be great pity, since he so well deserves to possess them. You know their +importance. My Lord, his father, knows it too, he being master of them +all. To conclude, if little Stanhope acquires the graces, I promise you +he will make his way; if not, he will be stopped in a course, the goal of +which he might attain with honor.] + +Tell Mr. Harte that I have this moment received his letter of the 22d, 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 traveling, and admits of +no application. Adieu. + +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 are little, because they are commonly called so: but +by the consequences that may or may not attend them. If gaining people’s +affections, and interesting their hearts in your favor, be of +consequence, as it undoubtedly is, he knows very well that a happy +concurrence of all those, 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 it is; you nor I cannot set it +right. I know, 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 had not +sense enough to get them by reflection. Parts and habit should conspire +to complete you. You will have the habit of good company, and you have +reflection in your power. + + + + +LETTER XCIII + +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 actu 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, humors, and passions, just like other people; everyone of +which, in their turns, determine their wills, in defiance of their +reason. Had we only read in the “Life of Alexander,” that he burned +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, 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 with his +w---e; 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 humors, 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 +understands 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 Argyle, though the weakest +reasoner, was the most pleasing speaker I ever knew in 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 elegance 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 circumstances, 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 +elegance 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 I have mentioned. Cardinal de Retz +observes, very justly, that every numerous assembly is a mob, influenced +by their passions, humors, and affections, which nothing but eloquence +ever did or ever can engage. This is so important a consideration for +everybody 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 elegance of a word or a phrase, +consult some good dead or living authority in that language. Use yourself +to translate, from various languages into English; correct those +translations 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, determined to conform to +the public taste, he wrote Gargantua and Pantagruel, which everybody +liked, extravagant as it was. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XCIV + +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 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 good +degree of pleasing sound. I will freely and truly own to you, without +either vanity 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 yourself, 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 me analyze 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 experience, that there +is very little in it. The elegance 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, humming all the way one or two favorite 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, nor +never will be; and, by his 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 an 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 chemistry, and experiments in anatomy, are never, that I +have heard of, the object of eloquence; and therefore I humbly conceive, +that a man may be a very fine speaker, and yet know nothing of geometry, +algebra, chemistry, or anatomy. The subjects of all parliamentary debates +are subjects of common sense singly. + +Thus I write whatever occurs to me, that I think may contribute either to +form or inform you. May my labor not be in vain! and it will not, if you +will but have half the concern for yourself that I have for you. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XCV + +LONDON; December 12, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: Lord Clarendon in his history says of Mr. John Hampden THAT HE +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 +ship-money we owe our present liberties; but I mention it to you as the +character, which with the alteration of one single word, GOOD, instead of +MISCHIEF, I would have you aspire to, and use your utmost endeavors 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 ‘dignus +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, barbarisms, and vulgarisms; misplacing 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 inclined, prepossessed, nay, even engaged in favor of those who +address you in the direct contrary manner? The effects of a correct and +adorned style of method and perspicuity, are incredible toward +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 elegance of their style, even +in common conversation; insomuch 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 ‘Crusca’, 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 seaside 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 elegance 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 whoever 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 proportioned 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’s book,--[“Letters on the +Spirit of Patriotism,” on the Idea of a Patriot King 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. Till I read that book, I confess I did +not know all the extent and powers of the English language. Lord +Bolingbroke has both a tongue and a pen to persuade; his manner of +speaking in private conversation is full as elegant as his writings; +whatever subject he either speaks or writes upon, he adorns with the most +splendid eloquence; not a studied or labored eloquence, but such a +flowing happiness of diction, which (from care perhaps at first) is +become so habitual to him, that even his most familiar conversations, if +taken down in writing, would bear the press, without the least correction +either as to method or style. If his conduct, in the former part of his +life, had been equal to all his natural and acquired talents, he would +most justly have merited the epithet of all-accomplished. He is himself +sensible of his past errors: those violent passions which seduced him in +his youth, have now subsided by age; and take him as he is now, the +character of all-accomplished is more his due than any man’s I ever knew +in my life. + +But he has been a most mortifying instance of the violence of human +passions and of the weakness of the most exalted human reason. His +virtues and his vices, his reason and his passions, did not blend +themselves by a gradation of tints, but formed a shining and sudden +contrast. Here the darkest, there the most splendid colors; and both +rendered more shining from their proximity. Impetuosity, excess, and +almost extravagance, characterized not only his passions, but even his +senses. His youth was distinguished by all the tumult and storm of +pleasures, in which he most licentiously triumphed, disdaining all +decorum. His fine imagination has often been heated and exhausted, with +his body, in celebrating and deifying the prostitute of the night; and +his convivial joys were pushed to all the extravagance of frantic +Bacchanals. Those passions were interrupted but by a stronger ambition. +The former impaired both his constitution and his character, but the +latter destroyed both his fortune and his reputation. + +He has noble and generous sentiments, rather than fixed reflected +principles of good nature and friendship; but they are more violent than +lasting, and suddenly and often varied to their opposite extremes, with +regard to the same persons. He receives the common attentions of civility +as obligations, which he returns with interest; and resents with passion +the little inadvertencies of human nature, which he repays with interest +too. Even a difference of opinion upon a philosophical subject would +provoke, and prove him no practical philosopher at least. + +Notwithstanding the dissipation of his youth, and the tumultuous +agitation of his middle age, he has an infinite fund of various and +almost universal knowledge, which, from the clearest and quickest +conception, and happiest memory, that ever man was blessed with, he +always carries about him. It is his pocket-money, and he never has +occasion to draw upon a book for any sum. He excels more particularly in +history, as his historical works plainly prove. The relative political +and commercial interests of every country in Europe, particularly of his +own, are better known to him, than perhaps to any man in it; but how +steadily he has pursued the latter, in his public conduct, his enemies, +of all parties and denominations, tell with joy. + +He engaged young, and distinguished himself in business; and his +penetration was almost intuition. I am old enough to have heard him speak +in parliament. And I remember that, though prejudiced against him by +party, I felt all the force and charms of his eloquence. Like Belial in +Milton, “he made the worse appear the better cause.” All the internal and +external advantages and talents of an orator are undoubtedly his. Figure, +voice, elocution, knowledge, and, above all, the purest and most florid +diction, with the justest metaphors and happiest images, had raised him +to the post of Secretary at War, at four-and-twenty years old, an age at +which others are hardly thought fit for the smallest employments. + +During his long exile in France, he applied himself to study with his +characteristical ardor; and there he formed and chiefly executed the plan +of a great philosophical work. The common bounds of human knowledge are +too narrow for his warm and aspiring imagination. He must go ‘extra +flammantia maenia Mundi’, and explore the unknown and unknowable regions +of metaphysics; which open an unbounded field for the excursion of an +ardent imagination; where endless conjectures supply the defect of +unattainable knowledge, and too often usurp both its name and its +influence. + +He has had a very handsome person, with a most engaging address in his +air and manners; he has all the dignity and good-breeding which a man of +quality should or can have, and which so few, in this country at least, +really have. + +He professes himself a deist; believing in a general Providence, but +doubting of, though by no means rejecting (as is commonly supposed) the +immortality of the soul and a future state. + +Upon the whole, of this extraordinary man, what can we say, but, alas, +poor human nature! + +In your destination, you will have frequent occasions to speak in public; +to princes and states abroad; to the House of Commons 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 a 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. + + + + +LETTER XCVI + +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 necessary 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. Endeavor to outshine +those who shine there the most, get the ‘Garbo’, the ‘Gentilezza’, the +‘Leggeadria’ of the Italians; make love to the most impertinent beauty +of condition that you 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 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 travelers 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 pretenses 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 +countrymen, 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, Ignatius 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 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 character 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, therefore, these two years to the pursuit of perfection; which +ought to be everybody’s object, though in some particulars unattainable; +those who strive and labor 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 who you +see; of your pleasures and entertainments. Tell me what companies you +frequent most, and how you are received. + + + + +LETTER XCVII + +LONDON, December 19, O. S. 1749. + +DEAR BOY: The knowledge of mankind is a very use ful 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 characters; 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 observation and sagacity; I will give you such hints +as I think may be useful land-marks in your intended progress. + +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 consequentially 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 passion? 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; humor 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 favorite may mislead him; and even laziness may, at +certain moments, make him neglect or omit the necessary steps to that +height at which he wants to arrive. 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 accompany +each other, like man and wife; and which, like man and wife too, are +commonly clogs upon each other. I mean ambition and 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 a 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 had 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 Cid. 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 discovered the operations of their +inferior passions, appetites, and humors. 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 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 analyze this +honest man yourself; and then only 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 +those 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 the 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 more captious than others; some are always +wrongheaded; 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, intimate 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 yourself, 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 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 friendships to each other, and indiscreetly +pour out their whole souls in common, and without the least reserve. +These confidences are as indiscreetly repealed as they were made; for new +pleasures and new places soon dissolve this ill-cemented connection; 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. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XCVIII + +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 affection. The former, unassisted and unadorned 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 Caesar (and I +believe with truth), + + “Curse on his virtues, they’ve undone his country.” + +By which he means those lesser, but engaging virtues of gentleness, +affability, complaisance, and good humor. 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 inflexible 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 shocking 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 pretense to claim. He intimates his protection, instead +of his friendship, by a gracious nod, instead of a usual bow; and rather +signifies his consent that you may, than his invitation that you should +sit, walk, eat, or drink with him. + +The costive liberality of a purse-proud man insults the distresses 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 communicate, 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 favor conferred, by reminding 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. Everybody feels the impression, +which an engaging address, an agreeable manner of speaking, and an easy +politeness, makes upon them; and they prepare the way for the favorable +reception of their betters. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER XCIX + +LONDON, December 26, O. S. 1749. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The new year is the season in which custom seems more +particularly to authorize 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 to nam caetera sumes’, was said formerly to one +by a man who certainly did not think it. With the variation of one word +only, I will with great truth say it 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 principal 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 te nam caetera +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. ‘Et fari ut possit quae 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 to 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 crumena’, 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 +behavior. 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 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 extremely 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 politeness: whoever keeps good company, and is not +polite, must have formed a resolution, and take some pains not to be so; +otherwise he would naturally and insensibly take the air, the address, +and the turn of those he converses with. You will, probably, 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 endeavor to do it, I +am convinced you will succeed, and that I shall have 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 those two subjects? Has he not +said all he can say upon them? Why the same thing over 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 +contrary, you are convinced of the utility, or rather the necessity of +those 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 toward +answering all my views: I am sure it will, if you employ your time, and +your whole time, as you should. Your first 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 accident, 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 stupefying. 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, +notwithstanding, at eight; by which means I got many hours in the morning +that my companions 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 today. 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; for I disclaim all titles which imply an +authority, that I am persuaded you will never give me occasion to +exercise. + +‘Multos et felices’, most sincerely, to Mr. Harte. + + + + + LETTERS TO HIS SON + + 1750 + + By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + + on the Fine Art of becoming a + + MAN OF THE WORLD + + and a + + GENTLEMAN + + + +LETTER C + +LONDON, January 8, O. S. 1750 + +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 necessity of scrupulously preserving the appearances of +both. When I say the appearances of religion, 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 means seem to approve, encourage, or applaud, +those libertine notions, which strike at religions equally, and which are +the poor threadbare topics of halfwits 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 approbation; 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 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; 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 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-humor, 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 practice the +doctrine they preach. But put your private mark upon them, and shun them +forever afterward. + +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 circumstances 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 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 pounds by it; whereas, he was so blasted, that he had +no longer an opportunity of cheating people. Is it 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, sometimes fall, from +mistaken notions of skill, dexterity, and self-defense, I mean lying; +though it is inseparably attended with more infamy and loss than any +other. The prudence and necessity 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 character, 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 afterward make very honest and fair advantages. But if, +in negotiations, you are looked upon as a liar and a trickster, no +confidence will be placed in you, nothing will be communicated to you, +and you will be in the situation of a man who has been burned in the +cheek; and who, from that mark, cannot afterward get an honest livelihood +if he would, but must continue a thief. + +Lord Bacon, very justly, makes a distinction between simulation 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 some dissimulation, 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 so; for it hurts nobody but +themselves. This sort of lying is the spurious offspring of vanity, +begotten upon folly: these people deal in the marvelous; 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 that they get is ridicule and +contempt, not without a good degree of distrust; for one must naturally +conclude, 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 anybody room to doubt, for one minute, of +my veracity. It is most certain, that the reputation of chastity is not +so necessary for a women, as that of veracity is for a man; and with +reason; for it is possible 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 the purity of character, 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 you 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 polluting 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. Character must be kept bright, as well as +clean. Content yourself with mediocrity in nothing. In purity of +character and in politeness of manners labor to excel all, if you wish to +equal many. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CI + +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 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 +companies, 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 +‘Leggiadria’ of a man of five-and-twenty, who has 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 embarrassed 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 coloring. You will naturally +endeavor 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 comae, et vox faucibus +haesit’. 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; and should +certainly have renounced all polite company forever, if I had not been so +convinced of the absolute necessity of forming my manners upon those of +the best companies, 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 embarrassment, and being ‘desoevre’ +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 afterward, +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, good-naturedly 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 +you do. You must go through your noviciate before you can profess +good-breeding: and, if you will be my novice, I will present you 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 bur in +my throat) before I could tell her that I was very much obliged to her; +that it was true, that I had a great deal of reason to distrust my own +behavior, 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: Savez-vous (for she was a foreigner, and I was +abroad) que j’ai entrepris ce jeune homme, et qu’il le faut rassurer? +Pour moi, je crois en avoir fait----[Do you know that I have undertaken +this young man, and he must be encouraged? As for me, I think I have made +a conquest of him; for he just now ventured to tell me, although +tremblingly, that it is warm. You will assist me in polishing him. He +must necessarily have a passion for somebody; if he does not think me +worthy of being the object, he will seek out some other. However, my +novice, do not disgrace yourself by frequenting opera girls and +actresses; who will not require of you sentiments and politeness, but +will be your ruin in every respect. I repeat it to you, my friend, if +you should get into low, mean company, you will be undone. Those +creatures will destroy your fortune and your health, corrupt your morals, +and you will never acquire the style of good company.] + +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 afterward, 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 +endeavoring to be civil. I copied the best masters, at first servilely, +afterward 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; your 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 +admonition as the strongest proofs of 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--[At that time Ambassador from the Court of France to +Rome.]--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 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 ‘grande monde’, and having possibly had some gallantries, together +with the experience of five-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 +ATTENTIONS 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 behavior; 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. + + + + +LETTER CII + +LONDON, January 18, O. S. 1750 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: 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, ‘liant’, and, in short, adorned with all the +lesser talents: and take another man, with sound sense and profound +knowledge, but without the above-mentioned advantages; the former will +not only get the better of the latter, in every pursuit of every KIND, +but in truth there will be no sort of competition between them. But can +every man acquire these advantages? I say, Yes, if he please, suppose he +is in a situation 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, prepossesses you in +his favor, and makes you entertain a good opinion of him, you do not know +why, analyze that ‘abord’, and examine, within yourself, the several +parts that composed 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 any thing 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 +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 become one of them. The +inevitable contagion of company shows you the necessity of keeping the +best, and avoiding all other; for in everyone, 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 behavior. 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 supposing 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 accomplishments +(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 you 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 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 your +dress while you were a schoolboy was pardonable, but would not be so now. + +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. + + + + +LETTER CIII + +LONDON, January 25, O. S. 1750 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: It is so long since I have heard from you, that I suppose +Rome 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 evening 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 abusing and laughing at you amicably to your face? Have you +found a good ‘decrotteuse’. For those 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 faut bien payer d’attentions +et de petits soin’, 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. + + 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 weigh much more with them than his beauty; +and, without them, the Abbati and Monsignori 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 riband, or a +head-dress, are great materials for gallant dissertations, to one who has +got ‘le ton leger et aimable de la bonne compagnie’. At all events, a man +had better talk too much to women, than too little; they take silence for +dullness, unless where they think that 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 the Fifth said that he would choose to speak to his +mistress? Have you got all the tender diminutives, in ‘etta, 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. 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 heard with pleasure: words are the 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, bepowdered, +and be-feathered, as other young fellows are, and should be? At your age, +‘il faut du brillant, et meme un peu de fracas, mais point de mediocre; +il faut un air vif, aise et noble. Avec les hommes, un maintien +respectueux et en meme tems 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 +inclosed, 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. + + + + +LETTER CIV + +LONDON, February 5, O. S. 1750 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: 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 those two important +articles. Young people are apt to think that 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 practiced, 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 recommend 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 +appointment; 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 coffeehouse, and possibly alone, return home, +write a letter, beforehand, for the ensuing post, or take up a good book, +I do not mean Descartes, Malebranche, 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 the +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 extravagances of the +“Arabian Nights,” and Mogul tales; or, the new flimsy brochures that now +swarm in France, of fairy tales, ‘Reflections sur le coeur et l’esprit, +metaphysique de l’amour, analyse des beaux sentimens’, 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, 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 tomorrow what you can do to-day. + +Dispatch is the soul of business; and nothing contributes more to +dispatch than method. Lay down a method for everything, 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 +unmethodical manner, in which many people read scraps of different +authors, upon different subjects. Keep a useful and short commonplace +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; without 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 interruptions 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 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 to +pleasure, 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 indiscriminately, 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 +awkwardly 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 +d’enjouement, du badinage? Etes-vous galant? Filex-vous le parfait amour? +Est-il question de flechir par vos soins et par vos attentions les +rigueurs de quelque fiere Princesse’? You may safely trust me; for though +I 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 a buffoon. [see +Mark Twain’s identical advice in his ‘Speeches’ D.W.] Every virtue, they +say, has its kindred vice; every pleasure, I am sure, has its neighboring +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 more easily 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. + + + + +LETTER CV + +LONDON, February 8, O. S. 1750 + +MY DEAR 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 mind, 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 unquestionably 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 Tasse a l’ Or de Virgile’. The image, +with which he adorns the introduction of his epic 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 bon-bon’. These verses are these: + + “Cosi all’egro fanciul porgiamo aspersi + Di soavi licor gli orli del vaso: + Succhi amari ingannato intanto ei beve, + E 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, madheroes, 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, l’arme, gli amori + Le cortesie, l’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 porto dal matern’ alvo.” + +The author adds, very gravely,-- + + “Forse era ver, ma non pero 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 extravagancy, 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 the TRUE +PASTORAL’ SIMPLICITY, talk metaphysics, epigrams, ‘concetti’, and +quibbles, by the hour to each other. + +The Aminto 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 Machiavello and Boccacio; 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 +deserved 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 incomparable; particularly the +first ten, translated in the time of Leo the Tenth, and inscribed to him, +under the title of Collana. That original Collana has been lengthened +since; and if I mistake not, consist 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 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 +themselves 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 your new acquaintances, the +Italians, are a great deal too much above them. The former, I doubt, +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 ingenieuses’. + +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 Lewis 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 endeavored 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, have +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 raffinement, et l’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. + + + + +LETTER CVI + +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 spoke; 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 (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 put them in vogue. It is with these women, as with ministers and +favorites at court; they decide upon fashion and characters, as these do +of 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 honors of their houses, and entering with seeming unction into +all their little grievances, bustles, and views; for they are always +busy. If you are once ‘ben ficcato’ at the Palazzo Borghese, you twill +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 meantime, observe the +air and carriage of those who are reckoned to have the best, and form +your own upon them. Ease, 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 Ciceroni, to +be ill-disposed of; there is a kind of connection 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. + + + + +LETTER CVII + +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 honor 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 proportion, 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 justly 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 seen 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 hour 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, +whatever 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 should not be +called pleasures), of low and profligate company. I confess the pleasures +of high life are not always strictly philosophical; and I believe a Stoic +would blame, my indulgence; but I am yet no Stoic, though turned of +five-and-fifty; 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 continued 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 consequently not dangerous nor dishonorable. It is only the +interacts 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 conditions 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 honte’, 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 meantime, 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, 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 +traveler 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 perfect 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 unattended by them. How cruelly should I be +shocked, if, at our first meeting, you should present yourself to me +without them! Invoke them, and sacrifice to them every moment; they are +always kind, where they are assiduously courted. For God’s sake, aim at +perfection in everything: ‘Nil actum reputans si quid superesset agendum. +Adieu. Yours most tenderly. + + + + +LETTER CVIII + +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 here +more than our share of earthquakes; for we had two very strong ones in +eight-and-twenty days. They really do too much honor to our cold climate; +in your warm one, they are compensated by favors 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 Coliseum. 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 ‘principium 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 afterward; but, however, extremely +ill-bred and nauseous. For I do not conceive that 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 Machiavel 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, chronologically, and geographically, +through the newspapers, and trace up the facts which you meet with there +to their sources: as, for example, consult the treaties Neustadt and Abo, +with regard to the disputes, which you read of every day in the public +papers, between Russia 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, being a point which, upon the death of the present King of Spain, +is likely to occasion some disputes; do not lose the thread 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. + + + + +LETTER CIX + +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 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 constitutional 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; +and 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. Inform me of your evening +transactions and acquaintances; where, and how you pass your evenings; +what people of learning you have made acquaintance with; 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 coloring 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 professore, a segno tale ch’io non ardisca dirle altra +cosa in quela lingua se non. Addio’. + + + + +LETTER CX + +LONDON, April 26, O. S. 1756. + +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 henceforward be principally calculated for that meridian. 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, ‘caeteris 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, no ‘jeux de +mains’, 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 faults, 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 sententiously) 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 +coffee-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 +‘avanturiers’ 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 regard for you: he sees that you are +a stranger of the first distinction; 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 prefrent 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 honor of introducing you to those 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 and p----d 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 grande monde’, 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 amuse yourself with that low play till supper, ‘a la bonne heure’. +Accordingly you sit down to that little play, at which the good company +takes 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 +able to pay for it. ‘La Marquise en fait les honneurs au mieux, talks +sentiments, ‘moeurs et morale’, interlarded with ‘enjouement’, and +accompanied with some oblique ogles, which bid you not despair in time. +After supper, pharaoh, lansquenet, or quinze, happen accidentally to be +mentioned: 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 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, whatever party +they propose to you. You may happen sometimes, in very great and good +companies, 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 you would, do not refuse it gravely and sententiously, +alleging the folly of staking what would be very inconvenient to one to +lose, against what one does not want to win; but parry those invitations +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 +‘l’embarras des richesses’, ever since you have seen what an encumbrance +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 invitations 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 that you +wish you could, but that so little makes you both drunk and sick, ‘que le +jeu me vaut pas la chandelle’. + +Pray show great attention, and make your court to Monsieur de la +Gueriniere; he is well with Prince Charles and many people of the first +distinction at Paris; his commendations will raise your character there, +not to mention that his favor will be 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 meantime 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 opportunities, 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 esprits, 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! + + + + +LETTER CXI + +LONDON, April 30, O. S. 1750 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: 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 Rome you had constantly preferred the established Italian +assemblies to the English conventicles setup 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 multorem +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 regularly, 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 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, dressed 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 Englishwoman, 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 to Romane caveito.” + +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 +company 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. Your +are then thought, from that seeming unwillingness, 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 questioned, and +he is reckoned only superficial; but if afterward 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 discovered, and nothing can +depreciate it but a man’s exhibiting 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 punished by proscription. You must +observe, and conform to all the ‘minutiae’ 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 further, and much +safer than more shining talents. Be upon your guard against quarrels at +Paris; honor 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 raillerie 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 that 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 +get before you here. You will meet with it at London. May you and I both +have reason to rejoice at that meeting! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXII + +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 of 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 Molieire’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, +but 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 indiscriminately, and without taste, into them all, and is finally +DESTROYED. I am not stoically advising, nor parsonically 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 endeavoring 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 felt any +in his life. 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 +wives 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. 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 +rotten whoremaster, never enjoy the pleasures to which they devote +themselves; but 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 common 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 favorites 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 +flatters 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 becomes 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 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 treaties, 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 cone 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 multitudes 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 consequence in a treaty, and even in a letter. + +Remember the GRACES, for without them ‘ogni fatica e vana’. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXIII + +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, 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 humor, 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 extinguished +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. Your +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 depends. Let no conversation, no example, no +fashion, no ‘bon mot’, no silly desire of seeming to be above, what most +knaves, 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; and 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., 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 inadvertency; +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 connection 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 perpetually 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 those accidents? Certainly not. On the contrary, their +taking up 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 +contrary, be inwardly firm and steady, know your own value whatever 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 la journee’. Lay your little plan +now, which you will hereafter extend and improve by your own +observations, and by the advice of those who can never mean to mislead +you; I mean Mr. Harte and myself. + + + + +LETTER CXIV + +LONDON, May 24., O. S. 1750 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 7th, N. S., from +Naples, to which place I find you have traveled, 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 not mind it when they saw +it? Now that 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 utmost +hospitality at Prince-------‘s, ‘que lui il fait bonne chere, et que +Madame la Princesse donne chere entire; 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 little sense, ‘juvenumque prodis, publics 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 +dimensions 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 +coming nearer to perfection than the generality of your contemporaries: +without a compliment to you, I think you bid fair 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 +of both 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 toward that practicable 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 be learned. But then, +on the other hand, it is impossible not to acquire them, if one has a +mind 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 +converses 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. I 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 favor, 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 wanting but pleasures to +complete you. Take them, but (as I am sure you will) with people of the +first fashion, whereever 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 observation on your part, soon give you their air, address, +manners, in short, ‘le ton de la bonne compagnie’. Let not these +considerations, however, make you vain: they are only between you and 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, awkward bashfulness, low diffidence +of one’s self, and mean abject complaisance to every or anybody’s +opinion. La Bruyere says, very truly, ‘on ne vaut dans ce monde, que ce +que l’on veut 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 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 esprils, savants, et belles dames’. These, if +you will frequent them, will form you, not only by their examples, +advice, and admonitions 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 persevere, will come much nearer it, than those whose +laziness and despondency make 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 humi, tutus nimium timidusque procellae’. For men as well +as women: + + “---------born to be controlled, + Stoop to the forward and the bold.” + +A man who sets out in the world with real timidity and diffidence has not +an equal chance for 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 intrepidity, with exterior modesty and SEEMING +diffidence. He must modestly, but resolutely, assert his own rights and +privileges. ‘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 that 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-tete, the various little +finishing strokes which conversation and, acquaintance occasionally +suggest, and which cannot be methodically written. + +Tell Mr. Harte that I have received his two letters of the 2d and 8th N. +S., which, as soon as I have received a third, I will answer. Adieu, my +dear! I find you will do. + + + + +LETTER CXV + +LONDON, June 5, O. S. 1750 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: 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 countenance, which has both spirit and finesse +in it. In bulk you are pretty well increased since I saw you; if your +height has 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 part is the best part of +those academical exercises. ‘Ils degraissent leur homme’. + +‘A propos’ of exercises, I have prepared everything for your reception at +Monsieur de la Gueriniere’s, and your room, etc., 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: an 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 anybody +likely to pass their 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 achievements 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, +stable, 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 disgraceful) 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 endeavors 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, simply by being +sanguine, enterprising, and persevering? 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 +l’Isle des Faisans’, the latter 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 tenaciousness. The point which the Cardinal had +most at heart was, to hinder the re-establishment of the Prince of Conde, +his implacable 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 circumstance 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 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 strangers, who will be civil to +them, and show a desire of pleasing. 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 goodwill. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXVI + +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 l’Esprit des +Lois’, 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 monarchical I thought worth +transcribing and sending to you. You will observe that the monarchy which +he has in his eye is France:-- + +“In monarchies, the principal branch of education is not taught in +colleges or academies. It commences, in some measure, at our setting out +in the world; for this is the school of what we call honor, that +universal preceptor, which ought everywhere to be our guide. + +“Here it is that we constantly hear three rules or maxims, viz: That we +should have a certain nobleness in our virtues, a kind of frankness in +our morals, and a particular politeness in our behavior. + +“The virtues we are here taught, are less what we owe to others, than to +ourselves; they are not so much what draws us toward society, as what +distinguishes us from our fellow-citizens. + +“Here the actions of men are judged, not as virtuous, but as shining; not +as just, but as great; not as reasonable, but as extraordinary. + +“When honor here meets with anything noble in our actions, it is either a +judge that approves them, or a sophister by whom they are excused. + +“It allows of gallantry, when united with the idea of sensible affection, +or with that of conquest; this is the reason why we never meet with so +strict a purity of morals in monarchies as in republican governments. + +“It allows of cunning and craft, when joined with the notion of greatness +of soul or importance of affairs; as, for instance, in politics, with +whose finenesses it is far from being offended. + +“It does not forbid adulation, but when separate from the idea of a large +fortune, and connected only with the sense of our mean condition. + +“With regard to morals, I have observed, that the education of monarchies +ought to admit of a certain frankness and open carriage. Truth, +therefore, in conversation, is here a necessary point. But is it for the +sake of truth. By no means. Truth is requisite only, because a person +habituated to veracity has an air of boldness and freedom. And, indeed, a +man of this stamp seems to lay a stress only on the things themselves, +not on the manner in which they are received. + +“Hence it is, that in proportion as this kind of frankness is commended, +that of the common people is despised, which has nothing but truth and +simplicity for its object. + +“In fine, the education of monarchies requires a certain politeness of +behavior. Man, a sociable animal, is formed to please in society; and a +person that would break through the rules of decency, so as to shock +those he conversed with, would lose the public esteem, and become +incapable of doing any good. + +“But politeness, generally speaking, does not derive its original from so +pure a source. It arises from a desire of distinguishing ourselves. It is +pride that renders us polite; we are flattered with being taken notice of +for a behavior that shows we are not of a mean condition, and that we +have not been bred up with those who in all ages are considered as the +scum of the people. + +“Politeness, in monarchies, is naturalized at court. One man excessively +great renders everybody else little. Hence that regard which is paid to +our fellow-subjects; hence that politeness, equally pleasing to those by +whom, as to those toward whom, it is practiced; because it gives people +to understand that a person actually belongs, or at least deserves to +belong, to the court. + +“A court air consists in quitting a real for a borrowed greatness. The +latter pleases the courtier more than the former. It inspires him with a +certain disdainful modesty, which shows itself externally, but whose +pride insensibly diminishes in proportion to his distance from the source +of this greatness. + +“At court we find a delicacy of taste in everything; a delicacy arising +from the constant use of the superfluities of life; from the variety, and +especially the satiety of pleasures; from the multiplicity and even +confusion of fancies, which, if they are not agreeable, are sure of being +well received. + +“These are the things which properly fall within the province of +education, in order to form what we call a man of honor, a man possessed +of all the qualities and virtues requisite in this kind of government. + +“Here it is that honor interferes with everything, mixing even with +people’s manner of thinking, and directing their very principles. + +“To this whimsical honor it is owing that the virtues are only just what +it pleases; it adds rules of its own invention to everything prescribed +to us; it extends or limits our duties according to its own fancy, +whether they proceed from religion, politics, or morality. + +“There is nothing so strongly inculcated in monarchies, by the laws, by +religion, and honor, as submission to the Prince’s will, but this very +honor tells us, that the Prince never ought to command a dishonorable +action, because this would render us incapable of serving him. + +“Crillon refused to assassinate the Duke of Guise, but offered to fight +him. After the massacre of St. Bartholomew, Charles IX., having sent +orders to the governors in the several provinces for the Huguenots to be +murdered, Viscount Dorte, who commanded at Bayonne, wrote thus to the +King: ‘Sire, Among the inhabitants of this town, and your Majesty’s +troops, I could not find so much as one executioner; they are honest +citizens and brave soldiers. We jointly, therefore, beseech your Majesty +to command our arms and lives in things that are practicable.’ This great +and generous soul looked upon a base action as a thing impossible. + +“There is nothing that honor more strongly recommends to the nobility, +than to serve their Prince in a military capacity. And indeed this is +their favorite profession, because its dangers, its success, and even its +miscarriages, are the road to grandeur. Yet this very law, of its own +making, honor chooses to explain; and in case of any affront, it requires +or permits us to retire. + +“It insists also, that we should be at liberty either to seek or to +reject employments; a liberty which it prefers even to an ample fortune. + +“Honor, therefore, has its supreme laws, to which education is obliged to +conform. The chief of these are, that we are permitted to set a value +upon our fortune, but are absolutely forbidden to set any upon our lives. + +“The second is, that when we are raised to a post or preferment, we +should never do or permit anything which may seem to imply that we look +upon ourselves as inferior to the rank we hold. + +“The third is, that those things which honor forbids are more rigorously +forbidden, when the laws do not concur in the prohibition; and those it +commands are more strongly insisted upon, when they happen not to be +commanded by law.” + +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, endeavor 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 dependence. 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, honor +without virtue, appearances saved, and realities sacrificed; good manners +with bad morals; and all vice and virtues so disguised, that whoever 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 conclusion: 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 Marylebone, Windsor, 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, therefore, +progressively, and with the greatest attention, what the best scholars in +the form immediately above you do, and so on, until 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 advise him never to take the English newswriters +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. + + + + +LETTER CXVII + +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 defect +which I may either hear of, suspect, or at any time discover in you. +Those who, in the common course of the world, will call themselves your +friends; or whom, according 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 are +therefore authorized to represent, advise, and remonstrate; 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 frequently 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 hearer’s, when murdered by an unskillful +performer. But to murder your own productions, and that ‘coram Populo’, +is a MEDEAN CRUELTY, which Horace absolutely forbids. Remember of what +importance Demosthenes, and one of the Gracchi, thought ENUNCIATION; and +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 emphasis 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 amusement 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 correctly, +elegantly, and in a good hand too; in which three particulars, I am sorry +to tell you, that you hitherto fail. Your handwriting 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 elegance of your +writing, attention to grammar does the one, and to the best authors the +other. In your letter to me of the 27th June, N. S., you omitted the date +of the place, so that I only conjectured from the contents that you were +at Rome. + +Thus I have, with the truth and freedom of the tenderest affection, told +you 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 you, 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 encounter. 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 reciprocal; 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 particularly attentive +they are to the correctness and elegance 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 woman of fashion and sense (for I do +not suppose you capable of falling in love with a strumpet), and that +your rival, 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 +accomplishments 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 those 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 favor; 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 + |Naturae + Jus |Gentium + |Publicum + +This, my dear friend, is a very true account; and a very encouraging one +for you. A man who owes so little can clear it off in a very 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 account 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 Centurioni, who +was last 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, especially la Pica gentile and the Maltese; but as this is +not the season for them, Mr. Mann will, I dare say, undertake that +commission, and send them to me at the proper time by Leghorn. Adieu. +Endeavor to please others, and divert yourself as much as ever you can, +in ‘honnete et galant homme’. + +P. S. I send you the inclosed to deliver to Lord Rochford, upon your +arrival at Turin. + + + + +LETTER CXVIII. + +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 +received one word either from you or Mr. Harte. I impute this to the +carelessness of the post simply: 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 very regularly, I shall insist +upon you 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. I shall also require you to be more minute in your account +of yourself than you have hitherto been, or than I have required, because +of the informations which I receive 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 profit 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 agremens, 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 learning, if he does not know the world by his own experience +and observation, will be very absurd; and consequently very unwelcome 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 circumstances and situations of the +company, he vents it indiscriminately; 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 labor 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. + +A system-monger, who, without knowing anything 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 mankind) flattery is +pleasing. He will therefore flatter. But how? Why, indiscriminately. And +instead of repairing and heightening the piece judiciously, with soft +colors 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 application, +by inference, by comparison, by hint, and seldom directly. In the course +of the world, there is the same difference in everything between system +and practice. + +I long to have you at Paris, which is to be your great school; 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, et valetudo, contingat, abunde!’ + + + + +LETTER CXIX + +LONDON, October 22, O. S. 1750 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter will, I am persuaded, find you, and I hope +safely, arrived at Montpelier; 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, +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 an account, where every other item is so much more valuable, he is +the first almost in this country: the figure he will make in it, 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 improve and cement it upon your own. + +In our 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 call equal ones; by which I +mean those, where the two connecting 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. Honor +must be the principle of such connections; and there must be a mutual +dependence, 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, with 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. Complaisance, 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, +skillfully 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 twenty more, for they are very rife. + +The other person whom I recommended to you is a woman; not as a woman, +for that is not immediately my business; besides, I fear that 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 compagnie, les manieres engageantes, et le +je ne sais 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 manner. In such a case she +will not put you out of countenance, by telling you of it in company; but +either intimate it by some sign, or wait for an opportunity 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 inclosed 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. + +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 now care to name, +raised to the highest stations singly by those exterior and adventitious +ornaments, whose parts would never have entitled them to the smallest +office in the excise. Are they then necessary, and worth acquiring, or +not? You will see many instances of this kind at Paris, particularly a +glaring one, of a person--[M. le Marechal de Richelieu]--raised to the +highest posts and dignities in France, as well as to be absolute +sovereign of the ‘beau monde’, simply 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 than +resentment, the former forgiven, but the latter sometimes forgot. + +There is a small quarto book entitled, ‘Histoire Chronologique de la +France’, lately published by Le President Henault, a man of parts and +learning, with whom you will probably get acquainted at Paris. I desire +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 confined 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 de +Sully’, in three quarto volumes, is also extremely well worth 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 most +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., from Antibes. It requires +no immediate answer; I shall therefore delay mine till I have another +from him. Give him the inclosed, which I have received from Mr. Eliot. + + + + +LETTER CXX + +LONDON, November 1, O. S. 1750 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I hope that this letter will not find you still at +Montpelier, but rather be sent after you from thence to Paris, where, I +am persuaded, that Mr. Harte could find as good advice for his leg as at +Montpelier, 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 at hand to solve doubts +and clear up difficulties. I do by no means advise you to throw away your +time in ransacking, like a dull antiquarian, the minute and unimportant +parts of remote and fabulous times. Let blockheads read what blockheads +wrote. And a general notion of the history of France, from the conquest +of that country by the Franks, to the reign of Louis the Eleventh, is +sufficient for use, consequently sufficient for you. There are, however, +in those remote times, some remarkable eras that deserve more particular +attention; I mean those in which some notable alterations happened in the +constitution and form of government. As, for example, in 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 collectively +nor by representatives, had any share in it. It was a mixture of monarchy +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 assemblies, by no means for the good of the people, who +were only amused by this pretended honor, 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, and +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 different 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 +extensive histories or particular treatises, relative to those great +points. Consider them well, trace up their causes, and follow their +consequences. 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, consult Mezeray, and other of +the best and minutest historians, as well as political treatises upon +those subjects. In later times, memoirs, from those of Philip de +Commines, down to the innumerble ones in the reign of Louis the +Fourteenth, 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 ignorant 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 +only with triflers; and be serious only with the serious, but dance to +those who pipe. ‘Cur in theatrum Cato severs venisti?’ was justly said to +an old man: 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 knowledge 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 unrequired, 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 republics, +there are some few who really govern; but then it is by seeming to +disclaim, instead of attempting to usurp the power; that is the occasion +in which manners, dexterity, address, and the undefinable ‘je ne sais +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 illbreeding; 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 maitres Etourdis’, and in some +young people unbroken to the world; but I can assure you, that you will +find it much otherwise 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. +Whatever is done under concern and embarrassment, must be ill done, and, +till a man is absolutely easy and unconcerned in every company, he will +never be thought to have kept good company, 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 make a very considerable 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 AEneas, when +‘obstupuit, steteruntque comae; et vox faucibus haesit!). 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 discouraged by +difficulties in its journey; whereas barefaced impudence is the noisy and +blustering harbinger of a worthless and senseless usurper. + +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 +endeavor, 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 it, and arrive pretty near it. Try, labor, +persevere. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXXI + +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 traveled 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 be 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 appropriation of it will be the material point, which +I am now going to clear up and finally settle with you. 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 draughts, 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 very 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 ‘les spectacles’, which expense I shall willingly +supply. You must play ‘a des petits jeux de commerce’ in mixed companies; +that article is trifling; 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, of which, +though I have not the least reason to suspect you, 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 honor +is pawned, I should most immovably answer you, that it was your honor, +not mine, that was pawned; and that your creditor might e’en 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 dishonorable, than the sometimes pardonable +excesses in good company. I must absolutely 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 whores, 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. To speak +plainly, I will not forgive your understanding c--------s and p-------s; +nor will your constitution forgive them you. 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 toy shops. Have one handsome snuff-box (if you take snuff), +and one handsome sword; but then no more 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 savor 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 the 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 +all that I have now said was absolutely unnecessary, and that sentiments +more worthy and more noble than pecuniary ones, would of themselves have +pointed out to you the conduct I recommend; but, at 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 characters 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 the p-------s contend which shall soonest and +most effectually destroy his constitution. A dissolute, flagitious +footman, or porter, 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 +despised that 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 everything 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 +and 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; instruction, 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 +Albemarle, go to see Mr. Yorke, whom I have particular reasons for +desiring that you should be well with, as I shall hereafter explain to +you. Let him know that my orders, and your own inclinations, conspired to +make you desire his friendship and protection. + + + + +LETTER CXXII + +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 +unconfined, but unassisted. 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. 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, Aristoteles, 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 +everyone. 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 excellent 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 inclosed 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 Paris. I do not in the least +mean a grave turn; on the contrary, 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 +dishonored by not resenting an affront, and utterly ruined by resenting +it. The young Frenchmen are hasty, giddy, and petulant; extremely +national, and ‘avantageux’. Forbear 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; this notion is very far from being a true one, +though many ‘Petits maitres’ by their behavior seem to justify it; but +those very ‘petits maltres’, when mellowed by age and experience, 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 +afterward. + +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. + + + + +LETTER CXXIII + +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 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 these 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 may 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 you do every morning, with a +soft sponge and swarm 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 backward, that it may not grow up, and shorten your +nails 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 unnecessary; 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 shocking, 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 whenever you have occasion; but, by the +way, without looking at it afterward. 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 ‘minutiae’, without 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 sais 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 traveling; +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 kinds of +inaccuracies and improprieties of behavior. The most intimate friendship, +unassisted by the paternal superiority, will not authorize 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-d-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 countenance for you, as any one of the +above-mentioned defects would make me. ‘Praetor 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 ‘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, N. +S., by which I am very glad to find that he thinks of moving toward +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 Montpelier; 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 Montpelier; and +there always is some at the Intendant’s, or the Commandant’s. You will +have had full time to learn ‘les petites chansons Languedociennes’, which +are exceedingly pretty ones, both words and tunes. I remember, when I was +in those parts, I was surprised at the difference which I found between +the people on one side, and those on the other side of the Rhone. The +Provencaux were, in general, surly, ill-bred, ugly, and swarthy; the +Languedocians 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 Montpelier before it could arrive there. + + + + +LETTER CXXIV + +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 establishment supplies, not only France itself, but the +greatest part of Europe, with sugars whereas our islands, as Jamaica, +Barbadoes, 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 +present 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 merchandise 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 leveled 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, +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 that which +owes all its riches and power to it. + +I come now to another part of your letter, which is the orthography, if I +may call bad spelling ORTHOGRAPHY. You spell induce, ENDUCE; and +grandeur, you spell grandURE; two faults of which few of my housemaids +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 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 few; 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 +unpardonable 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 suspect, that you have taken +it into your head, in most cases, that the 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 +utterance, 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 everything, if you 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 +Imperii’; 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 gentleman, 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, 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, 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. + + + + +LETTER CXXV + +LONDON, December 24, 1750 + +DEAR FRIEND: At length you are become a Parisian, and consequently must +be addressed in French; you will also answer me in the same language, +that I may be able to judge of the degree in which you possess the +elegance, the delicacy, and the orthography of that language which is, in +a manner, become the universal one of Europe. I am assured that you speak +it well, but in that well there are gradations. He, who in the provinces +might be reckoned to speak correctly, would at Paris be looked upon as an +ancient Gaul. In that country of mode, even language is subservient to +fashion, which varies almost as often as their clothes. + +The AFFECTED, the REFINED, the NEOLOGICAL, OR NEW FASHIONABLE STYLE are +at present too much in vogue at Paris. Know, observe, and occasionally +converse (if you please) according to those different styles; but do not +let your taste be infected by them. Wit, too, is there subservient to +fashion; and actually, at Paris, one must have wit, even in despite of +Minerva. Everybody runs after it; although if it does not come naturally +and of itself; it never can be overtaken. But, unfortunately for those +who pursue, they seize upon what they take for wit, and endeavor to pass +it for such upon others. This is, at best, the lot of Ixion, who embraced +a cloud instead of the goddess he pursued. Fine sentiments, which never +existed, false and unnatural thoughts, obscure and far-sought +expressions, not only unintelligible, but which it is even impossible to +decipher, or to guess at, are all the consequences of this error; and +two-thirds of the new French books which now appear are made up of those +ingredients. It is the new cookery of Parnassus, in which the still is +employed instead of the pot and the spit, and where quintessences and +extracts ate chiefly used. N. B. The Attic salt is proscribed. + +You will now and then be obliged to eat of this new cookery, but do not +suffer your taste to be corrupted by it. And when you, in your turn, are +desirous of treating others, take the good old cookery of Lewis XIV.’s +reign for your rule. There were at that time admirable head cooks, such +as Corneille, Boileau, Racine, and La Fontaine. Whatever they prepared +was simple, wholesome, and solid. But laying aside all metaphors, do not +suffer yourself to be dazzled by false brilliancy, by unnatural +expressions, nor by those antitheses so much in fashion: as a protection +against such innovations, have a recourse to your own good sense, and to +the ancient authors. On the other hand, do not laugh at those who give +into such errors; you are as yet too young to act the critic, or to stand +forth a severe avenger of the violated rights of good sense. Content +yourself with not being perverted, but do not think of converting others; +let them quietly enjoy their errors in taste, as well as in religion. +Within the course of the last century and a half, taste in France has (as +well as that kingdom itself) undergone many vicissitudes. Under the reign +of I do not say Lewis XIII. but of Cardinal de Richelieu, good taste +first began to make its way. It was refined under that of Lewis XIV., a +great king, at least, if not a great man. Corneille was the restorer of +true taste, and the founder of the French theatre; although rather +inclined to the Italian ‘Concetti’ and the Spanish ‘Agudeze’. Witness +those epigrams which he makes Chimene utter in the greatest excess of +grief. + +Before his time, those kind of itinerant authors, called troubadours or +romanciers, were a species of madmen who attracted the admiration of +fools. Toward the end of Cardinal de Richelieu’s reign, and the beginning +of Lewis XIV.’s, the Temple of Taste was established at the Hotel of +Rambouillet; but that taste was not judiciously refined this Temple of +Taste might more properly have been named a Laboratory of Wit, where good +sense was put to the torture, in order to extract from it the most +subtile essence. There it was that Voiture labored hard and incessantly +to create wit. At length, Boileau and Moliere fixed the standard of true +taste. In spite of the Scuderys, the Calprenedes, etc., they defeated and +put to flight ARTAMENES, JUBA, OROONDATES, and all those heroes of +romance, who were, notwithstanding (each of them), as good as a whole +Army. Those madmen then endeavored to obtain an asylum in libraries; this +they could not accomplish, but were under a necessity of taking shelter +in the chambers of some few ladies. I would have you read one volume of +“Cleopatra,” and one of “Clelia”; it will otherwise be impossible for you +to form any idea of the extravagances they contain; but God keep you from +ever persevering to the twelfth. + +During almost the whole reign of Lewis XIV., true taste remained in its +purity, until it received some hurt, although undesignedly, from a very +fine genius, I mean Monsieur de Fontenelle; who, with the greatest sense +and the most solid learning, sacrificed rather too much to the Graces, +whose most favorite child and pupil he was. Admired with reason, others +tried to imitate him; but, unfortunately for us, the author of the +“Pastorals,” of the “History of Oracles,” and of the “French Theatre,” + found fewer imitators than the Chevalier d’Her did mimics. He has since +been taken off by a thousand authors: but never really imitated by anyone +that I know of. + +At this time, the seat of true taste in France seems to me not well +established. It exists, but torn by factions. There is one party of +petits maitres, one of half-learned women, another of insipid authors +whose works are ‘verba et voces, et praeterea nihil’; and, in short, a +numerous and very fashionable party of writers, who, in a metaphysical +jumble, introduce their false and subtle reasonings upon the movements +and the sentiments of THE SOUL, THE HEART, and THE MIND. + +Do not let yourself be overpowered by fashion, nor by particular sets of +people with whom you may be connected; but try all the different coins +before you receive any in payment. Let your own good sense and reason +judge of the value of each; and be persuaded, that NOTHING CAN BE +BEAUTIFUL UNLESS TRUE: whatever brilliancy is not the result of the +solidity and justness of a thought, it is but a false glare. The Italian +saying upon a diamond is equally just with regard to thoughts, ‘Quanto +Piu sodezza, tanto piu splendore’. + +All this ought not to hinder you from conforming externally to the modes +and tones of the different companies in which you may chance to be. With +the ‘petits maitres’ speak epigrams; false sentiments, with frivolous +women; and a mixture of all these together, with professed beaux esprits. +I would have you do so; for at your age you ought not to aim at changing +the tone of the company, but conform to it. Examine well, however; weigh +all maturely within yourself; and do not mistake the tinsel of Tasso for +the gold of Virgil. + +You will find at Paris good authors, and circles distinguished by the +solidity of their reasoning. You will never hear TRIFLING, AFFECTED, and +far-sought conversations, at Madame de Monconseil’s, nor at the hotels of +Matignon and Coigni, where she will introduce you. The President +Montesquieu will not speak to you in the epigrammatic style. His book, +the “Spirit of the Laws,” written in the vulgar tongue, will equally +please and instruct you. + +Frequent the theatre whenever Corneille, Racine, and Moliere’s pieces are +played. They are according to nature and to truth. I do not mean by this +to give an exclusion to several admirable modern plays, particularly +“Cenie,”--[Imitated in English by Mr. Francis, in a play called +“Eugenia.”]--replete with sentiments that are true, natural, and +applicable to one’s self. If you choose to know the characters of people +now in fashion, read Crebillon the younger, and Marivaux’s works. The +former is a most excellent painter; the latter has studied, and knows the +human heart, perhaps too well. Crebillon’s ‘Egaremens du Coeur et de +l’Esprit is an excellent work in its kind; it will be of infinite +amusement to you, and not totally useless. The Japanese history of +“Tanzar and Neadarne,” by the same author, is an amiable extravagancy, +interspersed with the most just reflections. In short, provided you do +not mistake the objects of your attention, you will find matter at Paris +to form a good and true taste. + +As I shall let you remain at Paris without any person to direct your +conduct, I flatter myself that you will not make a bad use of the +confidence I repose in you. I do not require that you should lead the +life of a Capuchin friar; quite the contrary: I recommend pleasures to +you; but I expect that they shall be the pleasures of a gentleman. Those +add brilliancy to a young man’s character; but debauchery vilifies and +degrades it. I shall have very true and exact accounts of your conduct; +and, according to the informations I receive, shall be more, or less, or +not at all, yours. Adieu. + +P. S. Do not omit writing to me once a-week; and let your answer to this +letter be in French. Connect yourself as much as possible with the +foreign ministers; which is properly traveling into different countries, +without going from one place. Speak Italian to all the Italians, and +German to all the Germans you meet, in order not to forget those two +languages. + +I wish you, my dear friend, as many happy new years as you deserve, and +not one more. May you deserve a great number! + + + + + LETTERS TO HIS SON + 1751 + + By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + + on the Fine Art of becoming a + + MAN OF THE WORLD + + and a + + GENTLEMAN + + + +LETTER CXXVI + +LONDON, January 8, 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 +your 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 gentleman, but the hand of a +school-boy writing his exercise, which he hopes will never be read. + +Madame de Monconseil gives me a favorable 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 now have) +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: “I know little of +the world; I am quite a novice in it; and although very desirous of +pleasing, I am at a loss for the means. Be so good, Madame, as to let me +into your secret of pleasing everybody. I shall owe my success to it, and +you will always have more than falls to your share.” 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, tell them, that you will look upon the most severe +criticisms as the greatest proof of their friendship. Madame du Boccage +tells me, particularly, to inform you: “I shall always, receive the honor +of his visits with pleasure; it is true, that at his age the pleasures of +conversation are cold; but I will endeavor to make him acquainted with +young people,” etc. + +Make use of this invitation, 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 or such cases; she has ‘l’usage du monde en +perfection’, and will help you to acquire it. Madame de Berkenrode ‘est +paitrie de graces’, and your quotation is very applicable to her. You 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 more than ever; 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 present 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 can do nothing while +abroad but attend carefully to the purity, correctness, and elegance of +your diction; the clearness and gracefulness of your utterance, in +whatever language you speak. As for the parliamentary 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 necessary than +either ancient or modern knowledge, is a great knowledge 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 point 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 +‘impigri’, indefatigable, and quick. The difference is, that a young +fellow of parts exerts all those happy dispositions in the pursuit of +proper objects; endeavors to excel in the solid, and in the showish parts +of life; whereas a silly puppy, or a dull rogue, throws away all his +youth and spirit upon trifles, where he is serious or upon disgraceful +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 you, 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. + + + + +LETTER CXXVII + +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 the 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 knowledge 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 cannot have +time to go into their depths at present--you cannot now engage with new +folios; you and I will refer the constitutional 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 endeavor 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 Childe’s little book upon trade, which may properly +be called the “Commercial Grammar.” He lays down the true principles of +commerce, and his conclusions from them are generally very just. + +Since you turn your thoughts a little toward trade and commerce, which I +am very glad you do, I will recommend a French book to you, which 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 Savory’, in +three volumes in folio; where you will find every one thing that relates +to trade, commerce, specie, exchange, etc., most 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 ‘tout de suite’; but I only +mean that you 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 mysteriousness; 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 important books. + +Lord Albemarle has, I know, wrote {It is a pleasure for an ordinary +mortal to find Lord Chesterfield in gramatical error--and he did it again +in the last sentence of this paragraph--but this was 1751? D.W.} 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 behavior 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 +chose 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 awkward expression) before you +return here, will be of great use to you afterward. People in general +take characters, as they do most things, upon trust, rather than be at +the trouble of examining 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 Stormount are, I hear, arrived at Paris; you +have, doubtless, seen them. Lord Stormount 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 here in about a month, +when your literary correspondence with him will be regularly carried on. +Your mutual concern at parting was a good sign for both. + +I have this moment received good accounts of you from Paris. Go on ‘vous +etes en bon train’. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXXVIII + +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-breeding there are a thousand little delicacies, which are +established only by custom; and it is these little elegances 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, +‘F’ose vous promettre qu’il sera bientot comme un de nos autres’. 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 politesses et attentions, qui ne sont rien en +elle-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 conform to those of the place. One would desire to +please, wherever 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 these ridiculous, +though, at the same time, really important lectures, pray attend, and +desire your professor also to attend, more particularly to the chapter of +the arms. It is they that decide of 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 a +lasting one. Therefore, pray desire Professor Marcel to make you come in +and go out of his room frequently, and in the supposition 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 in your +affections? I take it for granted, that ‘qua to cumque domat Venus, non +erubescendis adurit ignibus. Un arrangement honnete sied bien a un galant +homme’. In that case I recommend to you the utmost discretion, and the +profoundest 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 constitutes that +character which the French talk of so much, and so justly value, I mean +‘l’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 converse with. Observe those carefully who have that ‘douceur’ +that 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 say it. It is then the necessary +gilding of a disagreeable pill. ‘L’aimable’ consists in a thousand of +these little things aggregately. It is the ‘suaviter in modo’, 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 ‘Aimable’, 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 traveling 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 constitutional 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? + +2d. 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? + +3d. 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? + +4th. Were there not, at a meeting of a certain number of the electors (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 knowledge, more than +quick, flashy parts, that makes a man of business. A man who is master of +his matter, twill, with inferior parts, be too hard in parliament, and +indeed anywhere else, for a man of-better parts, who knows his subject +but superficially: and if to his knowledge he joins eloquence and +elocution, he must necessarily soon be at the head of that assembly; but +without those two, no knowledge is sufficient. + +Lord Huntingdon writes me word that 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 Stormount: 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 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, except in Italy; and if you know +enough of it to understand the few 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 further 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 it well, will +particularly distinguish you from every other man in England; and is, +moreover, of great use to anyone who is, as probably you will be, +employed in the Empire. Therefore, pray cultivate them 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 honors of the house and table, calling yourself +‘en badinant le galopin d’ici’, saying to the masters or mistress, ‘ceci +est de mon departement; je m’en charge; avouez, que je m’en acquitte a +merveille.’ This sort of ‘badinage’ has something engaging and ‘liant’ in +it, and begets that decent familiarity, which it is both agreeable and +useful 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 fortnight, 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 you 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. + + + + +LETTER CXXIX + +LONDON, August 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 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. + +However, I paid it at a venture; though I would almost rather lose the +money, than that such a signature should be yours. All gentlemen, and all +men of business, write their names always in the same way, that their +signature may be so well known as not to be easily counterfeited; and +they generally sign in rather larger character than their common hand; +whereas your name was in a less, and a worse, 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 so 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 +‘poulailler’; 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 ‘poulailler’, under pretense 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 exceedingly bad and illiberal +one; equally unfit for business or common use. I do not desire that you +should write the labored, stiff character of a writing-master: a man of +business must write quick and well, and that depends simply 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, to which I answer, Why are +you ever 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 care not to let that haste hinder his doing it well. Little minds +are in a hurry, when the object proves (as 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 dispatch a business only appears by the continuity 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 the +scrawl of a common whore. Consider, that if your very bad writing could +furnish me with matter of ridicule, what will it not do to others who do +not view you in that partial light that I do? There was a pope, I think +it was Cardinal 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 when 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 handwriting familiar to you now, that +you may hereafter have nothing but your matter to think of, when you have +occasion to write to kings and ministers. Dance, dress, 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 I am eternally thinking of everything that can be relative to you, one +thing has occurred to me, which I think necessary to mention to you, in +order to prevent the difficulties which it might otherwise lay you under; +it is this as you get more acquaintances at Paris, it will be impossible +for you to frequent your first acquaintances so much as you did, while +you had no others. As, for example, at your first ‘debut’, I suppose you +were chiefly at Madame 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 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 forgiven 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 engagements, 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 +confidential 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 further. Upon the whole, I recommend 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. Endeavor to be fashionable among the French, which will +soon make you fashionable here. Monsieur de Matignon already calls you +‘le petit Francois’. If you can get that name generally at Paris, it will +put you ‘a la mode’. Adieu, my dear child. + + + + +LETTER CXXX + +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 will +be half done by it, as I am sure you would not give people reason to +change their favorable 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 +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 letter +which I lately received from an impartial and discerning friend:-- + +“Permit me to assure you, Sir, that Mr. Stanhope will succeed. He has a +great fund of knowledge, and an uncommonly good memory, although he does +not make any parade of either the one or the other. He is desirous of +pleasing, and he will please. He has an expressive countenance; his +figure is elegant, although little. He has not the least awkwardness, +though he has not as yet acquired all-the graces requisite; which Marcel +and the ladies will soon give him. In short, he wants nothing but those +things, which, at his age, must unavoidably be wanting; I mean, a certain +turn and delicacy of manners, which are to be acquired only by time, and +in good company. Ready as he is, he will soon learn them; particularly as +he frequents such companies as are the most proper to give them.” + +By this extract, which I can assure you is a faithful one, you and I have +both of us 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 endeavors to acquire it. You have, in truth, but that one +thing to apply to and a very pleasing application it is, since it is +through pleasures 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 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; endeavor 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 +thinking a very disagreeable thing. + +I have sent you, by the opportunity of Pollok 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 accompany them with this caution, that +as you have not much time to read, you should employ it in reading what +is the most necessary, and that is, indisputably modern historical, +geographical, chronological, 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 +governments of Athens and Rome, are totally ignorant of the constitution +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 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 commendations 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 insulting 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 over value 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 l’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 manner, is only a proper and +decent assurance in another. A man of sense, and of knowledge in the +world, will assert his own rights, and 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, while 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 inclosed 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 sait tirer parti de tout’, and everybody is +good for something. President 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 vous pourrez’. + +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 you in all you think, all you say, and all you do. + + + + +LETTER CXXXI + +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 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 unadorned, 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; and, take my word for it, that success turns much more upon +manner than matter. Mr. Pitt and Mr. Murray the solicitor-general, uncle +to Lord Stormount, 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; but his eloquence 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 Paymaster, in spite of both king and ministers. From +this draw the obvious conclusion. 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 +homespun, unadorned 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 gracefully 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 what 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 +elegance of their style in conversation and in their letters. ‘Bien +narrer’ is an object of their study; and though they sometimes carry it +to affectation, they never sink into inelegance, which is much the worst +extreme of the two. Observe them, and form your French style upon theirs: +for elegance in one language will reproduce itself in all. I knew a young +man, who, 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 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, elegance, 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 Marcell--[At that time the most +celebrated dancing-master at Paris.]--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 honor 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. + + + + +LETTER CXXXII + +LONDON, February 28, O. S. 1751. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: This epigram in Martial-- + + “Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare; + Hoc tantum possum dicere, non amo te”-- + + [OR: “I do not love thee Dr. Fell + The reason why I cannot tell. + But this I know and know full well: + I do not love thee Dr. Fell.” D.W.] + +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 particularly say why. You are not aimable: 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 honored +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 one’s self +the time, to analyze one’s sentiments 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 so impossible for me +to love, that I am almost in a fever whenever I am in his company. His +figure (without being deformed) seems made to disgrace 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 employed 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 mistimes or misplaces everything. He disputes +with heat, and indiscriminately, mindless of the rank, character, and +situation of those with whom he disputes; absolutely ignorant 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 consequence, 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 as a +respectable Hottentot.--[This ‘mot’ was aimed at Dr. Johnson in +retaliation for his famous letter.] + +I remember, that when I came from Cambridge, I had acquired, among the +pedants of that illiberal seminary, a sauciness of literature, a turn to +satire and contempt, and a strong tendency to argumentation and +contradiction. But I had been but a very little while in the world, +before I found that this would by no means do; and I immediately adopted +the opposite character; I concealed what learning I had; I applauded +often, without approving; 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. Apropos, the word PLEASING puts one always +in mind of Lady Hervey; pray tell her, that I declare her responsible to +me for your pleasing; 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 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 ‘dubois don’t 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 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 chameleon are often +necessary; nay, they must be carried a little further, 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, ‘qui veut bien se charger du soin de vous +eduquer’? And have you had any occasion of representing to her, ‘qu’elle +faisoit donc des noeuds’? But I ask your pardon, Sir, for the abruptness +of the question, and 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 color of your amusements at Paris. Is it ‘le fracas du grand monde, +comedies, bals, operas, cour,’ etc.? 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 honnete? Have you made many acquaintances among the +young Frenchmen who ride at your Academy; and who are they? Send to me +this sort of chit-chat in your letters, which, by the bye, I wish you +would honor me with somewhat oftener. If you frequent any of the myriads +of polite Englishmen who infest Paris, who are they? Have you finished +with Abbe Nolet, 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 +l’Abbes Nolet, ask my friend l’Abbe Sallier 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 ‘astronome malgre moi’, by bringing in last Monday into the House of +Lords a bill for reforming our present Calendar and taking the New Style. +Upon which occasion 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 experience; 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 +let 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 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. + + + + +LETTER CXXXIII + +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’ +[gentleness of manners, with firmness of mind D.W.]. I do not know any +one rule so unexceptionably 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 +PULPITICALLY, I will first show you, my beloved, the necessary connection +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 complaisance 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 accident, 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 his 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 command, your commands +delivered ‘suaviter in modo’ will be willingly, cheerfully, and +consequently well obeyed; whereas, if given only ‘fortiter’, that is +brutally, they will rather, as Tacitus says, be interrupted 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 command 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 favor, 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 pretense to do it, by resenting the manner; but, on +the other hand, you must, by a steady perseverance and decent +tenaciousness, show the ‘fortiter 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 pretense of offense +but take care to show enough of the ‘fortiter 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 favor 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 true +‘fortiter 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 endeavor +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 expressions, 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 till you can be soft. Labor 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 attainable 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 vigor preserve and invite attachments to you; but, at the +same time, let your manner hinder the enemies of your friends and +dependents from becoming yours; let your enemies be disarmed by the +gentleness of your manner, but let them feel, at the same time, the +steadiness of your just resentment; for there is a great difference +between bearing malice, which is always ungenerous, and a resolute +self-defense, which is always prudent and justifiable. In negotiations +with foreign ministers, remember 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, 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 opponents, make them their personal +enemies. This is exceedingly weak and detrimental, as indeed is all humor +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 favor 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. + + + + +LETTER CXXXIV + +LONDON, March 11, O. S. 1751. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: 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 ‘hotel garni’; the Abbe will help you to find one, as I +desire him by the inclosed, which you will give him. I must, however, +annex one condition to your going into private lodgings, which is an +absolute 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 l’Angloise in their infernal claret. You will be +sure to go to the riding-house as 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 bureaux in Europe; for this is the +time for you to acquire ‘tous ces petits riens’, which, though in an +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 will never +be anything, are absolutely made up of all those ‘riens’, 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, 1752, 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. + +I have received, at last, your present of the cartoon, from Dominichino, +by Planchet. 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 our meeting, 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 upon me, except that I conceal, instead of publishing, +the defeats which my attention makes me discover in those I love. I +curiously pry into them; I analyze them; and, wishing either to find them +perfect, or to make them so, nothing escapes me, and I soon discover +every the least gradation toward or from that perfection. 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 very 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 DEMEA; 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 elegance of style. +These will be all put to the trial; for while you are with me, you must +do the honors of my house and table; the least inaccuracy or inelegance +will not escape me; as you will find by a LOOK at the time, and by a +remonstrance afterward when we are alone. You will see a great deal of +company of all sorts at BABIOLE, and particularly foreigners. Make, +therefore, in the meantime, 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 afterward: 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, I will insure +you from all subsequent criticisms from other quarters. + +Are you 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 Invalides, do you content yourself with seeing the building, +the hall where three or four hundred cripples dine, and the galleries +where they lie? or do 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 starting. 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. Germain’s, +--[At that time Ambassador from the King of Sardinia at the Court of +France.]--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 ambassadors? 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’. + + + + +LETTER CXXXV + +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 present +calendar, which is the Julian, and for adopting the Gregorian. 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 the Thirteenth corrected this error; his reformed calendar was +immediately received by all the Catholic powers of Europe, and afterward +adopted by all the Protestant ones, except Russia, Sweden, and England. +It was not, in my opinion, very honorable for England to remain, in a +gross and avowed error, especially in such company; the inconveniency 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 skillful +astronomers, and we cooked up a bill for that purpose. But then my +difficulty 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 something 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: so I +resolved to do better than speak to the purpose, and to please instead of +informing them. I gave them, therefore, 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 elocution, +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 Macclesfield, who had the greatest share in forming the bill, +and who is one of the greatest mathematicians and astronomers in Europe, +spoke afterward 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 preference 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. + +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 few 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 in elegant 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 favor gracefully, than to +grant it clumsily. 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 ambassador; 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, undoubtedly, +infinitely superior to anybody’s, I would have you read his works, which +you have, over and-over again, with particular attention to his style. +Transcribe, imitate, emulate it, if possible: that would be of real use +to you in the House of Commons, 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 +thoughts of all that dull fellows call solid, and exert your utmost care +to acquire what people of fashion call shining. ‘Prenez l’eclat et le +brillant d’un galant 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 school-boy; as soon, therefore, as you have done with Abbe Nolet, +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 +‘Commis’ in foreign bureaus commonly write; for I 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 material. If a man dances well from the waist upward, 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 anybody? I do not ask for whom: +an Iphigenia 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 company, 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. + + + + +LETTER CXXXVI + +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 labors. When +you grow older, the anxiety, the vexations, the disappointments +inseparable from public business, will require the greatest share of your +time and attention; your pleasures 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 you want, and almost the only one you ought to read: that +necessary book can only be read in company, 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 endeavor to conceal, their characters: whereas +pleasures discover them, and the heart breaks out through the guard of +the understanding. Those are often propitious moments for skillful +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 honors of it gracefully, and ‘sur le ton de la bonne compagnie’, is +absolutely necessary for a foreign minister. There is a certain light +table chit-chat, useful to keep off improper and too serious subjects, +which is only to be learned in the pleasures 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 Strafford governed, for a +considerable time, the Court of Berlin and made his own fortune, by being +well with Madame de Wartenberg, the first King of Prussia’s mistress. I +could name many other instances of that kind. That sort of agreeable +‘caquet de femmes’, the necessary fore-runners 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 under stand it +well: contrary to all other books, you must not stay 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, assemblies, spectacles, etc. Put yourself upon the +footing 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 cour’; 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 pleasures. Courts, alone, teach versatility and +politeness; for there is no living there without them. Lord Albermarle +has, I hear, and am very glad of it, put you into the hands of Messieurs +de Bissy. Profit of 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 Valiores, unless he is discarded by +this time, and Gelliot--[A famous opera-singer at Paris.]--retaken. Tell +them frankly, ‘que vous cherchez a vous former, que vous etes en mains de +maitres, s’ils veulent bien s’en 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 engaging 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 +intrigues and cabals, as well as pleasures, of courts: in those windings +and labyrinths, a knowledge of the world, a discernment of characters, a +suppleness and versatility of mind, and an elegance 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 outdo the English; and, ‘caeteris paribus’, a French minister +will get the better of an English one at any third court in Europe. The +French have something more ‘liant’, more insinuating and engaging in +their manner, than we have. An English minister shall have resided seven +years at a court, without 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 favor with the Prince, his wife, his mistress, his +favorite, and his minister. He has established himself upon a familiar +and domestic 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 humors, the +abilities, or the weaknesses of the actors. The Cardinal d’Ossat was +looked upon at Rome as an Italian, and not as a French cardinal; and +Monsieur d’Avaux, 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. Humors 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. ‘Ha +tibi erunt artes’. + +The death of the Prince of Wales, who was more beloved for his affability +and good-nature than esteemed for his steadiness 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. +Dr. Swift says, very humorously, that “Every man knows that he +understands religion and politics, though he never learned them; but that +many people are conscious that they do not understand many other +sciences, from having never learned them.” Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXXXVII + +LONDON, April 7, O. S. 1751 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Here you have, altogether, the pocketbooks, 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 Monconseil’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 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, ‘et que comme il est toujours par vole et par +chemins, il est absolument necessaire qu’il ale une boussole’. All those +little gallantries depend entirely upon the manner of doing them; as, in +truth, what does not? The greatest favors may be done so awkwardly and +bunglingly as to offend; and disagreeable things may be done so agreeably +as almost to oblige. Endeavor 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 alchemists 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. Frequent, observe, and learn courts. Are you free of that of +St. Cloud? Are you often at Versailles? Insinuate and wriggle yourself +into favor 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-breeding ‘de la ville et de la cour’ [of the city and of the court] +are different; but without deciding which is intrinsically the best, that +of the court is, without doubt, the most necessary for you, who are to +live, to grow, and to rise in courts. In two years’ time, which will be +as soon as you are fit for it, I hope to be able to plant you in the soil +of a YOUNG COURT here: where, if you have all the address, the suppleness +and versatility of a good courtier, you will have a great chance of +thriving and flourishing. Young favor is easily acquired if the proper +means are employed; and, when acquired, it is warm, if not durable; and +the warm moments must be snatched and improved. ‘Quitte pour ce qui en +pent arriver apres’. Do not mention this view of mine for you to any one +mortal; but learn to keep your own secrets, which, by the way, very few +people can do. + +If your course of experimental philosophy with Abbe Nolot is over, I +would have you apply to Abbe Sallier, for a master to give you a general +notion of astronomy and geometry; of both of which you may know as much, +as I desire you should, in six months’ time. I only desire that you +should have a clear notion of the present planetary system, and the +history of all the former systems. Fontenelle’s ‘Pluralites des Mondes’ +will almost teach you all you need know upon that subject. As for +geometry, the seven first books of Euclid will be a sufficient portion of +it for you. It is right to have a general notion of those abstruse +sciences, so as not to appear quite ignorant of them, when they happen, +as sometimes they do, to be the topics of conversation; but a deep +knowledge of them requires too much time, and engrosses the mind too +much. I repeat it again and again to you, Let the great book of the world +be your principal study. ‘Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna’; which +may be rendered thus in English: Turn Over MEN BY DAY, AND WOMEN BY +NIGHT. I mean only the best editions. + +Whatever may be said at Paris of my speech upon the bill for the +reformation of the present calendar, or whatever applause it may have met +with here, the whole, I can assure you, is owing to the words and to the +delivery, but by no means to the matter; which, as I told you in a former +letter, I was not master of. I mention this again, to show you the +importance of well-chosen words, harmonious periods, and good delivery; +for, between you and me, Lord Macclefield’s speech was, in truth, worth a +thousand of mine. It will soon be printed, and I will send it you. It is +very instructive. You say, that you wish to speak but half as well as I +did; you may easily speak full as well as ever I did, if you will but +give the same attention to the same objects that I did at your age, and +for many years afterward; I mean correctness, purity, and elegance of +style, harmony of periods, and gracefulness of delivery. Read over and +over again the third book of ‘Cicero de Oratore’, in which he +particularly treats of the ornamental parts of oratory; they are indeed +properly oratory, for all the rest depends only upon common sense, and +some knowledge of the subject you speak upon. But if you would please, +persuade, and prevail in speaking, it must be by the ornamental parts of +oratory. Make them therefore habitual to you; and resolve never to say +the most common things, even to your footman, but in the best words you +can find, and with the best utterance. This, with ‘les manieres, la +tournure, et les usages du beau monde’, are the only two things you want; +fortunately, they are both in your power; may you have them both! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXXXVIII + +LONDON, April 15, O. S. 1751 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: What success with the graces, and in the accomplishments, +elegancies, and all those little nothings so indispensably necessary to +constitute an amiable man? Do you take them, do you make a progress in +them? The great secret is the art of pleasing; and that art is to be +attained by every man who has a good fund of common sense. If you are +pleased with any person, examine why; do as he does; and you will charm +others by the same things which please you in him. To be liked by women, +you must be esteemed by men; and to please men, you must be agreeable to +women. Vanity is unquestionably the ruling passion in women; and it is +much flattered by the attentions of a man who is generally esteemed by +men; when his merit has received the stamp of their approbation, women +make it current, that is to say, put him in fashion. On the other hand, +if a man has not received the last polish from women, he may be estimable +among men, but will never be amiable. The concurrence of the two sexes is +as necessary to the perfection of our being, as to the formation of it. +Go among women with the good qualities of your sex, and you will acquire +from them the softness and the graces of theirs. Men will then add +affection to the esteem which they before had for you. Women are the only +refiners of the merit of men; it is true, they cannot add weight, but +they polish and give lustre to it. ‘A propos’, I am assured, that Madame +de Blot, although she has no great regularity of features, is, +notwithstanding, excessively pretty; and that, for all that, she has as +yet been scrupulously constant to her husband, though she has now been +married above a year. Surely she does not reflect, that woman wants +polishing. I would have you polish one another reciprocally. Force, +assiduities, attentions, tender looks, and passionate declarations, on +your side will produce some irresolute wishes, at least, on hers; and +when even the slightest wishes arise, the rest will soon follow. + +As I take you to be the greatest ‘juris peritus’ and politician of the +whole Germanic body, I suppose you will have read the King of Prussia’s +letter to the Elector of Mayence, upon the election of a King of the +Romans; and on the other side, a memorial entitled, IMPARTIAL +REPRESENTATION OF WHAT IS JUST WITH REGARD TO THE ELECTION OF A KING OF +THE ROMANS, etc. The first is extremely well written, but not grounded +upon the laws and customs of the empire. The second is very ill written +(at least in French), but well grounded. I fancy the author is some +German, who has taken into his head that he understands French. I am, +however, persuaded that the elegance and delicacy of the King of +Prussia’s letter will prevail with two-thirds of the public, in spite of +the solidity and truth contained in the other piece. Such is the force of +an elegant and delicate style! + +I wish you would be so good as to give me a more particular and +circumstantial account of the method of passing your time at Paris. For +instance, where it is that you dine every Friday, in company with that +amiable and respectable old man, Fontenelle? Which is the house where you +think yourself at home? For one always has such a one, where one is +better established, and more at ease than anywhere else. Who are the +young Frenchmen with whom you are most intimately connected? Do you +frequent the Dutch Ambassador’s. Have you penetrated yet into Count +Caunitz’s house? Has Monsieur de Pignatelli the honor of being one of +your humble servants? And has the Pope’s nuncio included you in the +jubilee? Tell me also freely how you are with Lord Huntingdon: Do you see +him often? Do you connect yourself with him? Answer all these questions +circumstantially in your first letter. + +I am told that Du Clos’s book is not in vogue at Paris, and that it is +violently criticised: I suppose that is because one understands it; and +being intelligible is now no longer the fashion. I have a very great +respect for fashion, but a much greater for this book; which is, all at +once, true, solid, and bright. It contains even epigrams; what can one +wish for more? + +Mr.------will, I suppose, have left Paris by this time for his residence +at Toulouse. I hope he will acquire manners there; I am sure he wants +them. He is awkward, he is silent, and has nothing agreeable in his +address,--most necessary qualifications to distinguish one’s self in +business, as well as in the POLITE WORLD! In truth, these two things are +so connected, that a man cannot make a figure in business, who is not +qualified to shine in the great world; and to succeed perfectly in either +the one or the other, one must be in ‘utrumque paratus’. May you be that, +my dear friend! and so we wish you a good night. + +P. S. Lord and Lady Blessington, with their son Lord Mountjoy, will be at +Paris next week, in their way to the south of France; I send you a little +packet of books by them. Pray go wait upon them, as soon as you hear of +their arrival, and show them all the attentions you can. + + + + +LETTER CXXXIX + +LONDON, April 22, O. S. 1751 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I apply to you now, as to the greatest virtuoso of this, +or perhaps any other age; one whose superior judgment and distinguishing +eye hindered the King of Poland from buying a bad picture at Venice, and +whose decisions in the realms of ‘virtu’ are final, and without appeal. +Now to the point. I have had a catalogue sent me, ‘d’une Trente a +l’aimable de Tableaux des plus Grands Maitres, appartenans au Sieur +Araignon Aperen, valet de chambre de la Reine, sur le quai de la +Megisserie, au coin de Arche Marion’. There I observe two large pictures +of Titian, as described in the inclosed page of the catalogue, No. 18, +which I should be glad to purchase upon two conditions: the first is, +that they be undoubted originals of Titian, in good preservation; and the +other that they come cheap. To ascertain the first (but without +disparaging your skill), I wish you would get some undoubted connoisseurs +to examine them carefully: and if, upon such critical examination, they +should be unanimously allowed to be undisputed originals of Titian, and +well preserved, then comes the second point, the price: I will not go +above two hundred pounds sterling for the two together; but as much less +as you can get them for. I acknowledge that two hundred pounds seems to +be a very small sum for two undoubted Titians of that size; but, on the +other hand, as large Italian pictures are now out of fashion at Paris, +where fashion decides of everything, and as these pictures are too large +for common rooms, they may possibly come within the price above limited. +I leave the whole of this transaction (the price excepted, which I will +not exceed) to your consummate skill and prudence, with proper advice +joined to them. Should you happen to buy them for that price, carry them +to your own lodgings, and get a frame made to the second, which I observe +has none, exactly the same with the other frame, and have the old one new +gilt; and then get them carefully packed up, and sent me by Rouen. + +I hear much of your conversing with ‘les beaux esprits’ at Paris: I am +very glad of it; it gives a degree of reputation, especially at Paris; +and their conversation is generally instructive, though sometimes +affected. It must be owned, that the polite conversation of the men and +women of fashion at Paris, though not always very deep, is much less +futile and frivolous than ours here. It turns at least upon some subject, +something of taste, some point of history, criticism, and even +philosophy; which, though probably not quite so solid as Mr. Locke’s, is, +however, better, and more becoming rational beings, than our frivolous +dissertations upon the weather, or upon whist. Monsieur du Clos observes, +and I think very justly, ‘qu’il y a a present en France une fermentation +universelle de la raison qui tend a se developper’. Whereas, I am sorry +to say, that here that fermentation seems to have been over some years +ago, the spirit evaporated, and only the dregs left. Moreover, ‘les beaux +esprits’ at Paris are commonly well-bred, which ours very frequently are +not; with the former your manners will be formed; with the latter, wit +must generally be compounded for at the expense of manners. Are you +acquainted with Marivaux, who has certainly studied, and is well +acquainted with the heart; but who refines so much upon its ‘plis et +replis’, and describes them so affectedly, that he often is +unintelligible to his readers, and sometimes so, I dare say, to himself? +Do you know ‘Crebillon le fils’? He is a fine painter and a pleasing +writer; his characters are admirable and his reflections just. Frequent +these people, and be glad, but not proud of frequenting them: never boast +of it, as a proof of your own merit, nor insult, in a manner, other +companies by telling them affectedly what you, Montesquieu and Fontenelle +were talking of the other day; as I have known many people do here, with +regard to Pope and Swift, who had never been twice in company with +either; nor carry into other companies the ‘ton’ of those meetings of +‘beaux esprits’. Talk literature, taste, philosophy, etc., with them, ‘a +la bonne heure’; but then, with the same ease, and more ‘enjouement’, +talk ‘pom-pons, moires’, etc., with Madame de Blot, if she requires it. +Almost every subject in the world has its proper time and place; in which +no one is above or below discussion. The point is, to talk well upon the +subject you talk upon; and the most trifling, frivolous subjects will +still give a man of parts an opportunity of showing them. ‘L’usage du +grand monde’ can alone teach that. That was the distinguishing +characteristic of Alcibiades, and a happy one it was, that he could +occasionally, and with so much ease, adopt the most different, and even +the most opposite habits and manners, that each seemed natural to him. +Prepare yourself for the great world, as the ‘athletae’ used to do for +their exercises: oil (if I may use that expression) your mind and your +manners, to give them the necessary suppleness and flexibility; strength +alone will not do, as young people are too apt to think. + +How do your exercises go on? Can you manage a pretty vigorous ‘sauteur’ +between the pillars? Are you got into stirrups yet? ‘Faites-vous assaut +aux armes? But, above all, what does Marcel say of you? Is he satisfied? +Pray be more particular in your accounts of yourself, for though I have +frequent accounts of you from others, I desire to have your own too. +Adieu. Yours, truly and friendly. + + + + +LETTER CXL + +LONDON, May 2, O. S. 1751 + +DEAR FRIEND: Two accounts, which I have very lately received of you, from +two good judges, have put me into great spirits, as they have given me +reasonable hopes that you will soon acquire all that I believe you want: +I mean the air, the address; the graces, and the manners of a man of +fashion. As these two pictures of you are very unlike that which I +received, and sent you some months ago, I will name the two painters: the +first is an old friend and acquaintance of mine, Monsieur d’Aillon. His +picture is, I hope, like you; for it is a very good one: Monsieur +Tollot’s is still a better, and so advantageous a one, that I will not +send you a copy of it, for fear of making you too vain. So far only I +will tell you, that there was but one BUT in either of their accounts; +and it was this: I gave d’Aillon the question ordinary and extraordinary, +upon the important article of manners; and extorted this from him: But, +since you will know it, he still wants that last beautiful varnish, which +raises the colors, and gives brilliancy to the piece. Be persuaded that +he will acquire it: he has too much sense not to know its value; and if I +am not greatly mistaken, more persons than one are now endeavoring to +give it him. Monsieur Tollot says: “In order to be exactly all that you +wish him, he only wants those little nothings, those graces in detail, +and that amiable ease, which can only be acquired by usage of the great +world. I am assured that he is, in that respect, in good hands. I do not +know whether that does not rather imply in fine arms.” Without entering +into a nice discussion of the last question, I congratulate you and +myself upon your being so near that point at which I so anxiously wish +you to arrive. I am sure that all your attention and endeavors will be +exerted; and, if exerted, they will succeed. Mr. Tollot says, that you +are inclined to be fat, but I hope you will decline it as much as you +can; not by taking anything corrosive to make you lean, but by taking as +little as you can of those things that would make you fat. Drink no +chocolate; take your coffee without cream: you cannot possibly avoid +suppers at Paris, unless you avoid company too, which I would by no means +have you do; but eat as little at supper as you can, and make even an +allowance for that little at your dinners. Take occasionally a double +dose of riding and fencing; and now that summer is come, walk a good deal +in the Tuileries. It is a real inconvenience to anybody to be fat, and +besides it is ungraceful for a young fellow. ‘A propos’, I had like to +have forgot to tell you, that I charged Tollot to attend particularly to +your utterence and diction; two points of the utmost importance. To the +first he says: “His enunciation is not bad, but it is to be wished that +it were still better; and he expresses himself with more fire than +elegance. Usage of good company will instruct him likewise in that.” + These, I allow, are all little things, separately; but aggregately, they +make a most important and great article in the account of a gentleman. In +the House of Commons you can never make a figure without elegance of +style, and gracefulness of utterance; and you can never succeed as a +courtier at your own Court, or as a minister at any other, without those +innumerable ‘petite riens dans les manieres, et dans les attentions’. Mr. +Yorke is by this time at Paris; make your court to him, but not so as to +disgust, in the least, Lord Albemarle, who may possibly dislike your +considering Mr. Yorke as the man of business, and him as only ‘pour orner +la scene’. Whatever your opinion may be upon THAT POINT, take care not to +let it appear; but be well with them both by showing no public preference +to either. + +Though I must necessarily fall into repetitions by treating the same +subject so often, I cannot help recommending to you again the utmost +attention to your air and address. Apply yourself now to Marcel’s +lectures, as diligently as you did formerly to Professor Mascow’s; desire +him to teach you every genteel attitude that the human body can be put +into; let him make you go in and out of his room frequently, and present +yourself to him, as if he were by turns different persons; such as a +minister, a lady, a superior, an equal, and inferior, etc. Learn to seat +genteelly in different companies; to loll genteelly, and with good +manners, in those companies where you are authorized to be free, and to +sit up respectfully where the same freedom is not allowable. Learn even +to compose your countenance occasionally to the respectful, the cheerful, +and the insinuating. Take particular care that the motions of your hands +and arms be easy and graceful; for the genteelness of a man consists more +in them than in anything else, especially in his dancing. Desire some +women to tell you of any little awkwardness that they observe in your +carriage; they are the best judges of those things; and if they are +satisfied, the men will be so too. Think now only of the decorations. Are +you acquainted with Madame Geoffrain, who has a great deal of wit; and +who, I am informed, receives only the very best company in her house? Do +you know Madame du Pin, who, I remember, had beauty, and I hear has wit +and reading? I could wish you to converse only with those who, either +from their rank, their merit, or their beauty, require constant +attention; for a young man can never improve in company where he thinks +he may neglect himself. A new bow must be constantly kept bent; when it +grows older, and has taken the right turn, it may now and then be +relaxed. + +I have this moment paid your draft of L89 75s.; it was signed in a very +good hand; which proves that a good hand may be written without the +assistance of magic. Nothing provokes me much more, than to hear people +indolently say that they cannot do, what is in everybody’s power to do, +if it be but in their will. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXLI + +LONDON, May 6, O. S. 1751. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The best authors are always the severest critics of their +own works; they revise, correct, file, and polish them, till they think +they have brought them to perfection. Considering you as my work, I do +not look upon myself as a bad author, and am therefore a severe critic. I +examine narrowly into the least inaccuracy or inelegance, in order to +correct, not to expose them, and that the work may be perfect at last. +You are, I know, exceedingly improved in your air, address, and manners, +since you have been at Paris; but still there is, I believe, room for +further improvement before you come to that perfection which I have set +my heart upon seeing you arrive at; and till that moment I must continue +filing and polishing. In a letter that I received by last post, from a +friend of yours at Paris, there was this paragraph: “I have the honor to +assure you, without flattery, that Mr. Stanhope succeeds beyond what +might be expected from a person of his age. He goes into very good +company; and that kind of manner, which was at first thought to be too +decisive and peremptory, is now judged otherwise; because it is +acknowledged to be the effect of an ingenuous frankness, accompanied by +politeness, and by a proper deference. He studies to please, and +succeeds. Madame du Puisieux was the other day speaking of him with +complacency and friendship. You will be satisfied with him in all +respects.” This is extremely well, and I rejoice at it: one little +circumstance only may, and I hope will, be altered for the better. Take +pains to undeceive those who thought that ‘petit ton un peu delcide et un +peu brusque’; as it is not meant so, let it not appear so. Compose your +countenance to an air of gentleness and ‘douceur’, use some expressions +of diffidence of your own opinion, and deference to other people’s; such +as, “If I might be permitted to say--I should think--Is it not rather so? +At least I have the greatest reason to be diffident of myself.” Such +mitigating, engaging words do by no means weaken your argument; but, on +the contrary, make it more powerful by making it more pleasing. If it is +a quick and hasty manner of speaking that people mistake ‘pour decide et +brusque’, prevent their mistakes for the future by speaking more +deliberately, and taking a softer tone of voice; as in this case you are +free from the guilt, be free from the suspicion, too. Mankind, as I have +often told you, are more governed by appearances than by realities; and +with regard to opinion, one had better be really rough and hard, with the +appearance of gentleness and softness, than just the reverse. Few people +have penetration enough to discover, attention enough to observe, or even +concern enough to examine beyond the exterior; they take their notions +from the surface, and go no deeper: they commend, as the gentlest and +best-natured man in the world, that man who has the most engaging +exterior manner, though possibly they have been but once in his company. +An air, a tone of voice, a composure of countenance to mildness and +softness, which are all easily acquired, do the business: and without +further examination, and possibly with the contrary qualities, that man +is reckoned the gentlest, the modestest, and the best-natured man alive. +Happy the man, who, with a certain fund of parts and knowledge, gets +acquainted with the world early enough to make it his bubble, at an age +when most people are the bubbles of the world! for that is the common +case of youth. They grow wiser when it is too late; and, ashamed and +vexed at having been bubbles so long, too often turn knaves at last. Do +not therefore trust to appearances and outside yourself, but pay other +people with them; because you may be sure that nine in ten of mankind do, +and ever will trust to them. This is by no means a criminal or blamable +simulation, if not used with an ill intention. I am by no means blamable +in desiring to have other people’s good word, good-will, and affection, +if I do not mean to abuse them. Your heart, I know, is good, your sense +is sound, and your knowledge extensive. What then remains for you to do? +Nothing, but to adorn those fundamental qualifications, with such +engaging and captivating manners, softness, and gentleness, as will +endear you to those who are able to judge of your real merit, and which +always stand in the stead of merit with those who are not. I do not mean +by this to recommend to you ‘le fade doucereux’, the insipid softness of +a gentle fool; no, assert your own opinion, oppose other people’s when +wrong; but let your manner, your air, your terms, and your tone of voice, +be soft and gentle, and that easily and naturally, not affectedly. Use +palliatives when you contradict; such as I MAY BE MISTAKEN, I AM NOT +SURE, BUT I BELIEVE, I SHOULD RATHER THINK, etc. Finish any argument or +dispute with some little good-humored pleasantry, to show that you are +neither hurt yourself, nor meant to hurt your antagonist; for an +argument, kept up a good while, often occasions a temporary alienation on +each side. Pray observe particularly, in those French people who are +distinguished by that character, ‘cette douceur de moeurs et de +manieres’, which they talk of so much, and value so justly; see in what +it consists; in mere trifles, and most easy to be acquired, where the +heart is really good. Imitate, copy it, till it becomes habitual and easy +to you. Without a compliment to you, I take it to be the only thing you +now want: nothing will sooner give it you than a real passion, or, at +least, ‘un gout vif’, for some woman of fashion; and, as I suppose that +you have either the one or the other by this time, you are consequently +in the best school. Besides this, if you were to say to Lady Hervey, +Madame Monconseil, or such others as you look upon to be your friends, It +is said that I have a kind of manner which is rather too decisive and too +peremptory; it is not, however, my intention that it should be so; I +entreat you to correct, and even publicly to punish me whenever I am +guilty. Do not treat me with the least indulgence, but criticise to the +utmost. So clear-sighted a judge as you has a right to be severe; and I +promise you that the criminal will endeavor to correct himself. Yesterday +I had two of your acquaintances to dine with me, Baron B. and his +companion Monsieur S. I cannot say of the former, ‘qu’il est paitri de +graces’; and I would rather advise him to go and settle quietly at home, +than to think of improving himself by further travels. ‘Ce n’est pas le +bois don’t on en fait’. His companion is much better, though he has a +strong ‘tocco di tedesco’. They both spoke well of you, and so far I +liked them both. How go you on with the amiable little Blot? Does she +listen to your Battering tale? Are you numbered among the list of her +admirers? Is Madame------your Madame de Lursay? Does she sometimes knot, +and are you her Meilcour? They say she has softness, sense, and engaging +manners; in such an apprenticeship much may be learned.--[This whole +passage, and several others, allude to Crebillon’s ‘Egaremens du Coeur et +de l’Esprit’, a sentimental novel written about that time, and then much +in vogue at Paris.] + +A woman like her, who has always pleased, and often been pleased, can +best teach the art of pleasing; that art, without which, ‘ogni fatica +vana’. Marcel’s lectures are no small part of that art: they are the +engaging forerunner of all other accomplishments. Dress is also an +article not to be neglected, and I hope you do not neglect it; it helps +in the ‘premier abord’, which is often decisive. By dress, I mean your +clothes being well made, fitting you, in the fashion and not above it; +your hair well done, and a general cleanliness and spruceness in your +person. I hope you take infinite care of your teeth; the consequences of +neglecting the mouth are serious, not only to one’s self, but to others. +In short, my dear child, neglect nothing; a little more will complete the +whole. Adieu. I have not heard from you these three weeks, which I think +a great while. + + + + +LETTER CXLII + +LONDON, May 10, O. S. 1751. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday, at the same time, your letters of +the 4th and 11th, N. S., and being much more careful of my commissions +than you are of yours, I do not delay one moment sending you my final +instructions concerning the pictures. The man you allow to be a Titian, +and in good preservation; the woman is an indifferent and a damaged +picture; but as I want them for furniture for a particular room, +companions are necessary; and therefore I am willing to take the woman +for better for worse, upon account of the man; and if she is not too much +damaged, I can have her tolerably repaired, as many a fine woman is, by a +skillful hand here; but then I expect that the lady should be, in a +manner, thrown into the bargain with the man; and, in this state of +affairs, the woman being worth little or nothing, I will not go above +fourscore Louis for the two together. As for the Rembrandt you mention, +though it is very cheap, if good, I do not care for it. I love ‘la belle +nature’; Rembrandt paints caricatures. Now for your own commissions, +which you seem to have forgotten. You mention nothing of the patterns +which you received by Monsieur Tollot, though I told you in a former +letter, which you must have had before the date of your last, that I +should stay till I received the patterns pitched upon by your ladies; for +as to the instructions which you sent me in Madame Monconseil’s hand, I +could find no mohairs in London that exactly answered that description; I +shall, therefore, wait till you send me (which you may easily do in a +letter) the patterns chosen by your three graces. + +I would, by all means, have you go now and then, for two or three days, +to Marechal Coigny’s, at Orli; it is but a proper civility to that +family, which has been particularly civil to you; and, moreover, I would +have you familiarize yourself with, and learn the interior and domestic +manners of, people of that rank and fashion. I also desire that you will +frequent Versailles and St. Cloud, at both of which courts you have been +received with distinction. Profit of that distinction, and familiarize +yourself at both. Great courts are the seats of true good-breeding; you +are to live at courts, lose no time in learning them. Go and stay +sometimes at Versailles for three or four days, where you will be +domestic in the best families, by means of your friend Madame de +Puisieux; and mine, l’Abbe de la Ville. Go to the King’s and the +Dauphin’s levees, and distinguish yourself from the rest of your +countrymen, who, I dare say, never go there when they can help it. Though +the young Frenchmen of fashion may not be worth forming intimate +connections with, they are well worth making acquaintance of; and I do +not see how you can avoid it, frequenting so many good French houses as +you do, where, to be sure, many of them come. Be cautious how you +contract friendships, but be desirous, and even industrious, to obtain a +universal acquaintance. Be easy, and even forward, in making new +acquaintances; that is the only way of knowing manners and characters in +general, which is, at present, your great object. You are ‘enfant de +famille’ in three ministers’ houses; but I wish you had a footing, at +least, in thirteen and that, I should think, you might easily bring +about, by that common chain, which, to a certain degree, connects those +you do not with those you do know. + +For instance, I suppose that neither Lord Albemarle, nor Marquis de St. +Germain, would make the least difficulty to present you to Comte Caunitz, +the Nuncio, etc. ‘Il faut etre rompu du monde’, which can only be done by +an extensive, various, and almost universal acquaintance. + +When you have got your emaciated Philomath, I desire that his triangles, +rhomboids, etc., may not keep you one moment out of the good company you +would otherwise be in. Swallow all your learning in the morning, but +digest it in company in the evenings. The reading of ten new characters +is more your business now, than the reading of twenty old books; showish +and shining people always get the better of all others, though ever so +solid. If you would be a great man in the world when you are old, shine +and be showish in it while you are young, know everybody, and endeavor to +please everybody, I mean exteriorly; for fundamentally it is impossible. +Try to engage the heart of every woman, and the affections of almost +every man you meet with. Madame Monconseil assures me that you are most +surprisingly improved in your air, manners, and address: go on, my dear +child, and never think that you are come to a sufficient degree of +perfection; ‘Nil actum reputans, si quid superesset agendum’; and in +those shining parts of the character of a gentleman, there is always +something remaining to be acquired. Modes and manners vary in different +places, and at different times; you must keep pace with them, know them, +and adopt them, wherever you find them. The great usage of the world, the +knowledge of characters, the brillant dun ‘galant homme,’ is all that you +now want. Study Marcel and the ‘beau monde’ with great application, but +read Homer and Horace only when you have nothing else to do. Pray who is +‘la belle Madame de Case’, whom I know you frequent? I like the epithet +given her very well: if she deserves it, she deserves your attention too. +A man of fashion should be gallant to a fine woman, though he does not +make love to her, or may be otherwise engaged. On ‘lui doit des +politesses, on fait l’eloge de ses charmes, et il n’en est ni plus ni +moins pour cela’: it pleases, it flatters; you get their good word, and +you lose nothing by it. These ‘gentillesses’ should be accompanied, as +indeed everything else should, with an air: ‘un air, un ton de douceur et +de politesse’. Les graces must be of the party, or it will never do; and +they are so easily had, that it is astonishing to me that everybody has +them not; they are sooner gained than any woman of common reputation and +decency. Pursue them but with care and attention, and you are sure to +enjoy them at last: without them, I am sure, you will never enjoy anybody +else. You observe, truly, that Mr.------is gauche; it is to be hoped that +will mend with keeping company; and is yet pardonable in him, as just +come from school. But reflect what you would think of a man, who had been +any time in the world, and yet should be so awkward. For God’s sake, +therefore, now think of nothing but shining, and even distinguishing +yourself in the most polite courts, by your air, your address, your +manners, your politeness, your ‘douceur’, your graces. With those +advantages (and not without them) take my word for it, you will get the +better of all rivals, in business as well as in ‘ruelles’. Adieu. Send me +your patterns, by the next post, and also your instructions to Grevenkop +about the seal, which you seem to have forgotten. + + + + +LETTER CXLIII + +LONDON, May 16, O. S. 1751. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: In about three months from this day, we shall probably +meet. I look upon that moment as a young woman does upon her bridal +night; I expect the greatest pleasure, and yet cannot help fearing some +little mixture of pain. My reason bids me doubt a little, of what my +imagination makes me expect. In some articles I am very sure that my most +sanguine wishes will not be disappointed; and those are the most material +ones. In others, I fear something or other, which I can better feel than +describe. However, I will attempt it. I fear the want of that amiable and +engaging ‘je ne sais quoi’, which as some philosophers have, +unintelligibly enough, said of the soul, is all in all, and all in every +part; it should shed its influence over every word and action. I fear the +want of that air, and first ‘abord’, which suddenly lays hold of the +heart, one does not know distinctly how or why. I fear an inaccuracy, or, +at least, inelegance of diction, which will wrong, and lower, the best +and justest matter. And, lastly, I fear an ungraceful, if not an +unpleasant utterance, which would disgrace and vilify the whole. Should +these fears be at present founded, yet the objects of them are (thank +God) of such a nature, that you may, if you please, between this and our +meeting, remove everyone of them. All these engaging and endearing +accomplishments are mechanical, and to be acquired by care and +observation, as easily as turning, or any mechanical trade. A common +country fellow, taken from the plow, and enlisted in an old corps, soon +lays aside his shambling gait, his slouching air, his clumsy and awkward +motions: and acquires the martial air, the regular motions, and whole +exercise of the corps, and particularly of his right and left hand man. +How so? Not from his parts; which were just the same before as after he +was enlisted; but either from a commendable ambition of being like, and +equal to those he is to live with; or else from the fear of being +punished for not being so. If then both or either of these motives change +such a fellow, in about six months’ time, to such a degree, as that he is +not to be known again, how much stronger should both these motives be +with you, to acquire, in the utmost perfection, the whole exercise of the +people of fashion, with whom you are to live all your life? Ambition +should make you resolve to be at least their equal in that exercise, as +well as the fear of punishment; which most inevitably will attend the +want of it. By that exercise, I mean the air, the manners, the graces, +and the style of people of fashion. A friend of yours, in a letter I +received from him by the last post, after some other commendations of +you, says, “It is surprising that, thinking with so much solidity as he +does, and having so true and refined a taste, he should express himself +with so little elegance and delicacy. He even totally neglects the choice +of words and turn of phrases.” + +This I should not be so much surprised or concerned at, if it related +only to the English language; which hitherto you have had no opportunity +of studying, and but few of speaking, at least to those who could correct +your inaccuracies. But if you do not express yourself elegantly and +delicately in French and German, (both which languages I know you possess +perfectly and speak eternally) it can be only from an unpardonable +inattention to what you most erroneously think a little object, though, +in truth, it is one of the most important of your life. Solidity and +delicacy of thought must be given us: it cannot be acquired, though it +may be improved; but elegance and delicacy of expression may be acquired +by whoever will take the necessary care and pains. I am sure you love me +so well; that you would be very sorry when we meet, that I should be +either disappointed or mortified; and I love you so well, that I assure +you I should be both, if I should find you want any of those exterior +accomplishments which are the indispensably necessary steps to that +figure and fortune, which I so earnestly wish you may one day make in the +world. + +I hope you do not neglect your exercises of riding, fencing, and dancing, +but particularly the latter: for they all concur to ‘degourdir’, and to +give a certain air. To ride well, is not only a proper and graceful +accomplishment for a gentleman, but may also save you many a fall +hereafter; to fence well, may possibly save your life; and to dance well, +is absolutely necessary in order to sit, stand, and walk well. To tell +you the truth, my friend, I have some little suspicion that you now and +then neglect or omit your exercises, for more serious studies. But now +‘non est his locus’, everything has its time; and this is yours for your +exercises; for when you return to Paris I only propose your continuing +your dancing; which you shall two years longer, if you happen to be where +there is a good dancing-master. Here I will see you take some lessons +with your old master Desnoyers, who is our Marcel. + +What says Madame du Pin to you? I am told she is very handsome still; I +know she was some few years ago. She has good parts, reading, manners, +and delicacy: such an arrangement would be both creditable and +advantageous to you. She will expect to meet with all the good-breeding +and delicacy that she brings; and as she is past the glare and ‘eclat’ of +youth, may be the more willing to listen to your story, if you tell it +well. For an attachment, I should prefer her to ‘la petite Blot’; and, +for a mere gallantry, I should prefer ‘la petite Blot’ to her; so that +they are consistent, et ‘l’un n’emplche pas l’autre’. Adieu. Remember ‘la +douceur et les graces’. + + + + +LETTER CXLIV + +LONDON, May 23, O. S. 1751. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 25th N. +S., and being rather something more attentive to my commissions than you +are to yours, return you this immediate answer to the question you ask me +about the two pictures: I will not give one livre more than what I told +you in my last; having no sort of occasion for them, and not knowing very +well where to put them if I had them. + +I wait with impatience for your final orders about the mohairs; the +mercer persecuting me every day for three pieces which I thought pretty, +and which I have kept by me eventually, to secure them in case your +ladies should pitch upon them. + +If I durst! what should hinder you from daring? One always dares if there +are hopes of success; and even if there are none, one is no loser by +daring. A man of fashion knows how, and when, to dare. He begins his +approaches by distant attacks, by assiduities, and by attentions. If he +is not immediately and totally repulsed, he continues to advance. After +certain steps success is infallible; and none but very silly fellows can +then either doubt, or not attempt it. Is it the respectable character of +Madame de la Valiere which prevents your daring, or are you intimidated +at the fierce virtue of Madame du Pin? Does the invincible modesty of the +handsome Madame Case discourage, more than her beauty invites you? Fie, +for shame! Be convinced that the most virtuous woman, far from being +offended at a declaration of love, is flattered by it, if it is made in a +polite and agreeable manner. It is possible that she may not be +propitious to your vows; that is to say, if she has a liking or a passion +for another person. But, at all events, she will not be displeased with +you for it; so that, as there is no danger, this cannot even be called +daring. But if she attends, if she listens, and allows you to repeat your +declaration, be persuaded that if you do not dare all the rest, she will +laugh at you. I advise you to begin rather by Madame du Pin, who has +still more than beauty enough for such a youngster as you. She has, +besides, knowledge of the world, sense, and delicacy. As she is not so +extremely young, the choice of her lovers cannot be entirely at her +option. I promise you, she will not refuse the tender of your most humble +services. Distinguish her, then, by attentions and by tender looks. Take +favorable opportunities of whispering that you wish esteem and friendship +were the only motives of your regard for her; but that it derives from +sentiments of a much more tender nature: that you made not this +declaration without pain; but that the concealing your passion was a +still greater torment. + +I am sensible, that in saying this for the first time, you will look +silly, abashed, and even express yourself very ill. So much the better; +for, instead of attributing your confusion to the little usage you have +of the world, particularly in these sort of subjects, she will think that +excess of love is the occasion of it. In such a case, the lover’s best +friend is self-love. Do not then be afraid; behave gallantly. Speak well, +and you will be heard. If you are not listened to the first time, try a +second, a third, and a fourth. If the place is not already taken, depend +upon it, it may be conquered. + +I am very glad you are going to Orli, and from thence to St. Cloud; go to +both, and to Versailles also, often. It is that interior domestic +familiarity with people of fashion, that alone can give you ‘l’usage du +monde, et les manieres aisees’. It is only with women one loves, or men +one respects, that the desire of pleasing exerts itself; and without the +desire of pleasing no man living can please. Let that desire be the +spring of all your words and actions. That happy talent, the art of +pleasing, which so few do, though almost all might possess, is worth all +your learning and knowledge put together. The latter can never raise you +high without the former; but the former may carry you, as it has carried +thousands, a great way without the latter. + +I am glad that you dance so well, as to be reckoned by Marcel among his +best scholars; go on, and dance better still. Dancing well is pleasing +‘pro tanto’, and makes a part of that necessary whole, which is composed +of a thousand parts, many of them of ‘les infiniment petits quoi +qu’infiniment necessaires’. + +I shall never have done upon this subject which is indispensably +necessary toward your making any figure or fortune in the world; both +which I have set my heart upon, and for both which you now absolutely +want no one thing but the art of pleasing; and I must not conceal from +you that you have still a good way to go before you arrive at it. You +still want a thousand of those little attentions that imply a desire of +pleasing: you want a ‘douceur’ of air and expression that engages: you +want an elegance and delicacy of expression, necessary to adorn the best +sense and most solid matter: in short, you still want a great deal of the +‘brillant’ and the ‘poli’. Get them at any rate: sacrifice hecatombs of +books to them: seek for them in company, and renounce your closet till +you have got them. I never received the letter you refer to, if ever you +wrote it. Adieu, et bon soir, Monseigneur. + + + + +LETTER CXLV + +GREENWICH, June 6, O. S. 1751. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Solicitous and anxious as I have ever been to form your +heart, your mind, and your manners, and to bring you as near perfection +as the imperfection of our natures will allow, I have exhausted, in the +course of our correspondence, all that my own mind could suggest, and +have borrowed from others whatever I thought could be useful to you; but +this has necessarily been interruptedly and by snatches. It is now time, +and you are of an age to review and to weigh in your own mind all that +you have heard, and all that you have read, upon these subjects; and to +form your own character, your conduct, and your manners, for the rest of +your life; allowing for such improvements as a further knowledge of the +world will naturally give you. In this view I would recommend to you to +read, with the greatest attention, such books as treat particularly of +those subjects; reflecting seriously upon them, and then comparing the +speculation with the practice. + +For example, if you read in the morning some of La Rochefoucault’s +maxims; consider them, examine them well, and compare them with the real +characters you meet with in the evening. Read La Bruyere in the morning, +and see in the evening whether his pictures are like. Study the heart and +the mind of man, and begin with your own. Meditation and reflection must +lay the foundation of that knowledge: but experience and practice must, +and alone can, complete it. Books, it is true, point out the operations +of the mind, the sentiments of the heart, the influence of the passions; +and so far they are of previous use: but without subsequent practice, +experience, and observation, they are as ineffectual, and would even lead +you into as many errors in fact, as a map would do, if you were to take +your notions of the towns and provinces from their delineations in it. A +man would reap very little benefit by his travels, if he made them only +in his closet upon a map of the whole world. Next to the two books that I +have already mentioned, I do not know a better for you to read, and +seriously reflect upon, than ‘Avis d’une Mere d’un Fils, par la Marquise +de Lambert’. She was a woman of a superior understanding and knowledge of +the world, had always kept the best company, was solicitous that her son +should make a figure and a fortune in the world, and knew better than +anybody how to point out the means. It is very short, and will take you +much less time to read, than you ought to employ in reflecting upon it, +after you have read it. Her son was in the army, she wished he might rise +there; but she well knew, that, in order to rise, he must first please: +she says to him, therefore, With regard to those upon whom you depend, +the chief merit is to please. And, in another place, in subaltern +employments, the art of pleasing must be your support. Masters are like +mistresses: whatever services they may be indebted to you for, they cease +to love when you cease to be agreeable. This, I can assure you, is at +least as true in courts as in camps, and possibly more so. If to your +merit and knowledge you add the art of pleasing, you may very probably +come in time to be Secretary of State; but, take my word for it, twice +your merit and knowledge, without the art of pleasing, would, at most, +raise you to the IMPORTANT POST of Resident at Hamburgh or Ratisbon. I +need not tell you now, for I often have, and your own discernment must +have told you, of what numberless little ingredients that art of pleasing +is compounded, and how the want of the least of them lowers the whole; +but the principal ingredient is, undoubtedly, ‘la douceur dans le +manieres’: nothing will give you this more than keeping company with your +superiors. Madame Lambert tells her son, Let your connections be with +people above you; by that means you will acquire a habit of respect and +politeness. With one’s equals, one is apt to become negligent, and the +mind grows torpid. She advises him, too, to frequent those people, and to +see their inside; In order to judge of men, one must be intimately +connected; thus you see them without, a veil, and with their mere +every-day merit. A happy expression! It was for this reason that I have +so often advised you to establish and domesticate yourself, wherever you +can, in good houses of people above you, that you may see their EVERY-DAY +character, manners, habits, etc. One must see people undressed to judge +truly of their shape; when they are dressed to go abroad, their clothes +are contrived to conceal, or at least palliate the defects of it: as +full-bottomed wigs were contrived for the Duke of Burgundy, to conceal +his hump back. Happy those who have no faults to disguise, nor weaknesses +to conceal! there are few, if any such; but unhappy those who know little +enough of the world to judge by outward appearances. Courts are the best +keys to characters; there every passion is busy, every art exerted, every +character analyzed; jealousy, ever watchful, not only discovers, but +exposes, the mysteries of the trade, so that even bystanders ‘y +apprennent a deviner’. There too the great art of pleasing is practiced, +taught, and learned with all its graces and delicacies. It is the first +thing needful there: It is the absolutely necessary harbinger of merit +and talents, let them be ever so great. There is no advancing a step +without it. Let misanthropes and would-be philosophers declaim as much as +they please against the vices, the simulation, and dissimulation of +courts; those invectives are always the result of ignorance, ill-humor, +or envy. Let them show me a cottage, where there are not the same vices +of which they accuse courts; with this difference only, that in a cottage +they appear in their native deformity, and that in courts, manners and +good-breeding make them less shocking, and blunt their edge. No, be +convinced that the good-breeding, the ‘tournure, la douceur dans les +manieres’, which alone are to be acquired at courts, are not the showish +trifles only which some people call or think them; they are a solid good; +they prevent a great deal of real mischief; they create, adorn, and +strengthen friendships; they keep hatred within bounds; they promote +good-humor and good-will in families, where the want of good-breeding and +gentleness of manners is commonly the original cause of discord. Get +then, before it is too late, a habit of these ‘mitiores virtutes’: +practice them upon every the least occasion, that they may be easy and +familiar to you upon the greatest; for they lose a great degree of their +merit if they seem labored, and only called in upon extraordinary +occasions. I tell you truly, this is now the only doubtful part of your +character with me; and it is for that reason that I dwell upon it so +much, and inculcate it so often. I shall soon see whether this doubt of +mine is founded; or rather I hope I shall soon see that it is not. + +This moment I receive your letter of the 9th N. S. I am sorry to find +that you have had, though ever so slight a return of your Carniolan +disorder; and I hope your conclusion will prove a true one, and that this +will be the last. I will send the mohairs by the first opportunity. As +for the pictures, I am already so full, that I am resolved not to buy one +more, unless by great accident I should meet with something surprisingly +good, and as surprisingly cheap. + +I should have thought that Lord-------, at his age, and with his parts +and address, need not have been reduced to keep an opera w---e, in such a +place as Paris, where so many women of fashion generously serve as +volunteers. I am still more sorry that he is in love with her; for that +will take him out of good company, and sink him into bad; such as +fiddlers, pipers, and ‘id genus omne’; most unedifying and unbecoming +company for a man of fashion! + +Lady Chesterfield makes you a thousand compliments. Adieu, my dear child. + + + + +LETTER CXLVI + +GREENWICH, June 10, O. S. 1751 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Your ladies were so slow in giving their specific orders, +that the mohairs, of which you at last sent me the patterns, were all +sold. However, to prevent further delays (for ladies are apt to be very +impatient, when at last they know their own minds), I have taken the +quantities desired of three mohairs which come nearest to the description +you sent me some time ago, in Madame Monconseil’s own hand; and I will +send them to Calais by the first opportunity. In giving ‘la petite Blot’ +her piece, you have a fine occasion of saying fine things, if so +inclined. + +Lady Hervey, who is your puff and panegyrist, writes me word that she saw +you lately dance at a ball, and that you dance very genteelly. I am +extremely glad to hear it; for (by the maxim, that ‘omne majus continet +in se minus’), if you dance genteelly, I presume you walk, sit, and stand +genteelly too; things which are much more easy, though much more +necessary, than dancing well. I have known many very genteel people, who +could not dance well; but I never knew anybody dance very well, who was +not genteel in other things. You will probably often have occasion to +stand in circles, at the levees of princes and ministers, when it is very +necessary ‘de payer de sa personne, et d’etre bien plante’, with your +feet not too near nor too distant from each other. More people stand and +walk, than sit genteelly. Awkward, ill-bred people, being ashamed, +commonly sit bolt upright and stiff; others, too negligent and easy, ‘se +vautrent dans leur fauteuil’, which is ungraceful and ill-bred, unless +where the familiarity is extreme; but a man of fashion makes himself +easy, and appears so by leaning gracefully instead of lolling supinely; +and by varying those easy attitudes instead of that stiff immobility of a +bashful booby. You cannot conceive, nor can I express, how advantageous a +good air, genteel motions, and engaging address are, not only among +women, but among men, and even in the course of business; they fascinate +the affections, they steal a preference, they play about the heart till +they engage it. I know a man, and so do you, who, without a grain of +merit, knowledge, or talents, has raised himself millions of degrees +above his level, simply by a good air and engaging manners; insomuch that +the very Prince who raised him so high, calls him, ‘mon aimable +vaut-rien’;--[The Marichal de Richelieu.]--but of this do not open your +lips, ‘pour cause’. I give you this secret as the strongest proof +imaginable of the efficacy of air, address, ‘tournure, et tout ces Petits +riens’. + +Your other puff and panegyrist, Mr. Harte, is gone to Windsor in his way +to Cornwall, in order to be back soon enough to meet you here: I really +believe he is as impatient for that moment as I am, ‘et c’est tout dire’: +but, however, notwithstanding my impatience, if by chance you should then +be in a situation, that leaving Paris would cost your heart too many +pangs, I allow you to put off your journey, and to tell me, as Festus did +Paul, AT A MORE CONVENIENT SEASON I WILL SPEAK TO THEE. You see by this +that I eventually sacrifice my sentiments to yours, and this in a very +uncommon object of paternal complaisance. Provided always, and be it +understood (as they say in acts of Parliament), that ‘quae te cumque +domat Venus, non erubescendis adurit ignibus’. If your heart will let you +come, bring with you only your valet de chambre, Christian, and your own +footman; not your valet de place, whom you may dismiss for the time, as +also your coach; but you had best keep on your lodgings, the intermediate +expense of which will be but inconsiderable, and you will want them to +leave your books and baggage in. Bring only the clothes you travel in, +one suit of black, for the mourning for the Prince will not be quite out +by that time, and one suit of your fine clothes, two or three of your +laced shirts, and the rest plain ones; of other things, as bags, +feathers, etc., as you think proper. Bring no books, unless two or three +for your’ amusement upon the road; for we must apply simply to English, +in which you are certainly no ‘puriste’; and I will supply you +sufficiently with the proper English authors. I shall probably keep you +here till about the middle of October, and certainly not longer; it being +absolutely necessary for you to pass the next winter at Paris; so that; +should any fine eyes shed tears for your departure, you may dry them by +the promise of your return in two months. + +Have you got a master for geometry? If the weather is very hot, you may +leave your riding at the ‘manege’ till you return to Paris, unless you +think the exercise does you more good than the heat can do you harm; but +I desire you will not leave off Marcel for one moment; your fencing +likewise, if you have a mind, may subside for the summer; but you will do +well to resume it in the winter and to be adroit at it, but by no means +for offense, only for defense in case of necessity. Good night. Yours. + +P. S. I forgot to give you one commission, when you come here; which is, +not to fail bringing the GRACES along with you. + + + + +LETTER CXLVII + +GREENWICH, June 13, O. S. 1751. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: ‘Les bienseances’--[This single word implies decorum, +good-breeding, and propriety]--are a most necessary part of the knowledge +of the world. They consist in the relations of persons, things, time, and +place; good sense points them out, good company perfects them ( supposing +always an attention and a desire to please), and good policy recommends +them. + +Were you to converse with a king, you ought to be as easy and +unembarrassed as with your own valet de chambre; but yet, every look, +word and action, should imply the utmost respect. What would be proper +and well-bred with others, much your superiors, would be absurd and +ill-bred with one so very much so. You must wait till you are spoken to; +you must receive, not give, the subject of conversation; and you must +even take care that the given subject of such conversation do not lead +you into any impropriety. The art would be to carry it, if possible, to +some indirect flattery; such as commending those virtues in some other +person, in which that prince either thinks he does, or at least would be +thought by others to excel. Almost the same precautions are necessary to +be used with ministers, generals, etc., who expect to be treated with +very near the same respect as their masters, and commonly deserve it +better. There is, however, this difference, that one may begin the +conversation with them, if on their side it should happen to drop, +provided one does not carry it to any subject upon which it is improper +either for them to speak, or be spoken to. In these two cases, certain +attitudes and actions would be extremely absurd, because too easy, and +consequently disrespectful. As, for instance, if you were to put your +arms across in your bosom, twirl your snuff-box, trample with your feet, +scratch your head, etc., it would be shockingly ill-bred in that company; +and, indeed, not extremely well-bred in any other. The great difficulty +in those cases, though a very surmountable one by attention and custom, +is to join perfect inward ease with perfect outward respect. + +In mixed companies with your equals (for in mixed companies all people +are to a certain degree equal), greater ease and liberty are allowed; but +they too have their bounds within ‘bienseance’. There is a social respect +necessary: you may start your own subject of conversation with modesty, +taking great care, however, ‘de ne jamais parler de cordes dans la +maison d’un pendu.--[Never to mention a rope in the family of a man who +has been hanged]--Your words, gestures, and attitudes, have a greater +degree of latitude, though by no means an unbounded one. You may have +your hands in your pockets, take snuff, sit, stand, or occasionally walk, +as you like; but I believe you would not think it very ‘bienseant’ to +whistle, put on your hat, loosen your garters or your buckles, lie down +upon a couch, or go to bed, and welter in an easychair. These are +negligences and freedoms which one can only take when quite alone; they +are injurious to superiors, shocking and offensive to equals, brutal and +insulting to inferiors. That easiness of carriage and behavior, which is +exceedingly engaging, widely differs from negligence and inattention, and +by no means implies that one may do whatever one pleases; it only means +that one is not to be stiff, formal, embarrassed, disconcerted, and +ashamed, like country bumpkins, and, people who have never been in good +company; but it requires great attention to, and a scrupulous observation +of ‘les bienseances’: whatever one ought to do, is to be done with ease +and unconcern; whatever is improper must not be done at all. In mixed +companies also, different ages and sexes are to be differently addressed. +You would not talk of your pleasures to men of a certain age, gravity, +and dignity; they justly expect from young people a degree of deference +and regard. You should be full as easy with them as with people of your +own years: but your manner must be different; more respect must be +implied; and it is not amiss to insinuate that from them you expect to +learn. It flatters and comforts age for not being able to take a part in +the joy and titter of youth. To women you should always address yourself +with great outward respect and attention, whatever you feel inwardly; +their sex is by long prescription entitled to it; and it is among the +duties of ‘bienseance’; at the same time that respect is very properly +and very agreeably mixed with a degree of ‘enjouement’, if you have it; +but then, that badinage must either directly or indirectly tend to their +praise, and even not be liable to a malicious construction to their +disadvantage. But here, too, great attention must be had to the +difference of age, rank, and situation. A ‘marechale’ of fifty must not +be played with like a young coquette of fifteen; respect and serious +‘enjouement’, if I may couple those two words, must be used with the +former, and mere ‘badinage, zeste meme d’un peu de polissonerie’, is +pardonable with the latter. + +Another important point of ‘les bienseances’, seldom enough attended to, +is, not to run your own present humor and disposition indiscriminately +against everybody, but to observe, conform to, and adopt them. For +example, if you happened to be in high good humor and a flow of spirits, +would you go and sing a ‘pont neuf’,--[a ballad]--or cut a caper, to la +Marechale de Coigny, the Pope’s nuncio, or Abbe Sallier, or to any person +of natural gravity and melancholy, or who at that time should be in +grief? I believe not; as, on the other hand, I suppose, that if you were +in low spirits or real grief, you would not choose to bewail your +situation with ‘la petite Blot’. If you cannot command your present humor +and disposition, single out those to converse with, who happen to be in +the humor the nearest to your own. + +Loud laughter is extremely inconsistent with ‘les bienseances’, as it is +only the illiberal and noisy testimony of the joy of the mob at some very +silly thing. A gentleman is often seen, but very seldom heard to laugh. +Nothing is more contrary to ‘les bienseances’ than horse-play, or ‘jeux +de main’ of any kind whatever, and has often very serious, sometimes very +fatal consequences. Romping, struggling, throwing things at one another’s +head, are the becoming pleasantries of the mob, but degrade a gentleman: +‘giuoco di mano, giuoco di villano’, is a very true saying, among the few +true sayings of the Italians. + +Peremptoriness and decision in young people is ‘contraire aux +bienseances’, and they should seldom seem to assert, and always use some +softening mitigating expression; such as, ‘s’il m’est permis de le dire, +je croirais plutot, si j’ose m’expliquer’, which soften the manner, +without giving up or even weakening the thing. People of more age and +experience expect, and are entitled to, that degree of deference. + +There is a ‘bienseance’ also with regard to people of the lowest degree: +a gentleman observes it with his footman--even with the beggar in the +street. He considers them as objects of compassion, not of insult; he +speaks to neither ‘d’un ton brusque’, but corrects the one coolly, and +refuses the other with humanity. There is one occasion in the world in +which ‘le ton brusque’ is becoming a gentleman. In short, ‘les +bienseances’ are another word for MANNERS, and extend to every part of +life. They are propriety; the Graces should attend, in order to complete +them; the Graces enable us to do, genteelly and pleasingly, what ‘les +bienseances’ require to be done at all. The latter are an obligation upon +every man; the former are an infinite advantage and ornament to any man. +May you unite both! + +Though you dance well, do not think that you dance well enough, and +consequently not endeavor to dance still better. And though you should be +told that you are genteel, still aim at being genteeler. If Marcel +should, do not you be satisfied. Go on, court the Graces all your +lifetime; you will find no better friends at court: they will speak in +your favor, to the hearts of princes, ministers, and mistresses. + +Now that all tumultuous passions and quick sensations have subsided with +me, and that I have no tormenting cares nor boisterous pleasures to +agitate me, my greatest joy is to consider the fair prospect you have +before you, and to hope and believe you will enjoy it. You are already in +the world, at an age when others have hardly heard of it. Your character +is hitherto not only unblemished in its mortal part, but even unsullied +by any low, dirty, and ungentleman-like vice; and will, I hope, continue +so. Your knowledge is sound, extensive and avowed, especially in +everything relative to your destination. With such materials to begin +with, what then is wanting! Not fortune, as you have found by experience. +You have had, and shall have, fortune sufficient to assist your merit and +your industry; and if I can help it, you never shall have enough to make +you negligent of either. You have, too, ‘mens sana in corpore sano’, the +greatest blessing of all. All, therefore, that you want is as much in +your power to acquire, as to eat your breakfast when set before you; it +is only that knowledge of the world, that elegance of manners, that +universal politeness, and those graces which keeping good company, and +seeing variety of places and characters, must inevitably, with the least +attention on your part, give you. Your foreign destination leads to the +greatest things, and your parliamentary situation will facilitate your +progress. Consider, then, this pleasing prospect as attentively for +yourself as I consider it for you. Labor on your part to realize it, as I +will on mine to assist, and enable you to do it. ‘Nullum numen abest, si +sit prudentia’. + +Adieu, my dear child! I count the days till I have the pleasure of seeing +you; I shall soon count the hours, and at last the minutes, with +increasing impatience. + +P. S. The mohairs are this day gone from hence for Calais, recommended to +the care of Madame Morel, and directed, as desired, to the +Comptroller-general. The three pieces come to six hundred and eighty +French livres. + + + + +LETTER CXLVIII + +GREENWICH, June 20, O. S. 1751 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: So very few people, especially young travelers, see what +they see, or hear what they hear, that though I really believe it may be +unnecessary with you, yet there can be no harm in reminding you, from +time to time, to see what you see, and to hear what you hear; that is, to +see and hear as you should do. Frivolous, futile people, who make at +least three parts in four of mankind, only desire to see and hear what +their frivolous and futile precursors have seen and heard: as St. +Peter’s, the Pope, and High Mass, at Rome; Notre Dame, Versailles, the +French King, and the French Comedy, in France. A man of parts sees and +hears very differently from these gentlemen, and a great deal more. He +examines and informs himself thoroughly of everything he sees or hears; +and, more particularly, as it is relative to his own profession or +destination. Your destination is political; the object, therefore, of +your inquiries and observations should be the political interior of +things; the forms of government, laws, regulations, customs, trade, +manufactures, etc., of the several nations of Europe. This knowledge is +much better acquired by conversation with sensible and well-informed +people, than by books, the best of which upon these subjects are always +imperfect. For example, there are “Present States” of France, as there +are of England; but they are always defective, being published by people +uninformed, who only copy one another; they are, however, worth looking +into because they point out objects for inquiry, which otherwise might +possibly never have occurred to one’s mind; but an hour’s conversation +with a sensible president or ‘conseiller’ will let you more into the true +state of the parliament of Paris, than all the books in France. In the +same manner, the ‘Almanack Militaire’ is worth your having; but two or +three conversations with officers will inform you much better of their +military regulations. People have, commonly, a partiality for their own +professions, love to talk of them, and are even flattered by being +consulted upon the subject; when, therefore, you are with any of those +military gentlemen (and you can hardly be in any company without some), +ask them military questions, inquire into their methods of discipline, +quartering, and clothing their men; inform yourself of their pay, their +perquisites, ‘lours montres, lours etapes’, etc. Do the same as to the +marine, and make yourself particularly master of that detail; which has, +and always will have, a great relation to the affairs of England; and, in +proportion as you get good informations, take minutes of them in writing. + +The regulations of trade and commerce in France are excellent, as appears +but too plainly for us, by the great increase of both, within these +thirty years; for not to mention their extensive commerce in both the +East and West Indies, they have got the whole trade of the Levant from +us; and now supply all the foreign markets with their sugars, to the ruin +almost of our sugar colonies, as Jamaica, Barbadoes, and the Leeward +Islands. Get, therefore, what informations you can of these matters also. + +Inquire too into their church matters; for which the present disputes +between the court and the clergy give you fair and frequent +opportunities. Know the particular rights of the Gallican church, in +opposition to the pretensions of the See of Rome. I need not recommend +ecclesiastical history to you, since I hear that you study ‘Du Pin’ very +assiduously. + +You cannot imagine how much this solid and useful knowledge of other +countries will distinguish you in your own (where, to say the truth, it +is very little known or cultivated), besides the great use it is of in +all foreign negotiations; not to mention that it enables a man to shine +in all companies. When kings and princes have any knowledge, it is of +this sort, and more particularly; and therefore it is the usual topic of +their levee conversations, in which it will qualify you to bear a +considerable part; it brings you more acquainted with them; and they are +pleased to have people talk to them on a subject in which they think to +shine. + +There is a sort of chit-chat, or SMALL TALK, which is the general run of +conversation at courts, and in most mixed companies. It is a sort of +middling conversation, neither silly nor edifying; but, however, very +necessary for you to become master of. It turns upon the public events of +Europe, and then is at its best; very often upon the number, the goodness +or badness, the discipline, or the clothing of the troops of different +princes; sometimes upon the families, the marriages, the relations of +princes, and considerable people; and sometimes ‘sur le bon chere’, the +magnificence of public entertainments, balls, masquerades, etc. I would +wish you to be able to talk upon all these things better, and with more +knowledge than other people; insomuch that upon those occasions, you +should be applied to, and that people should say, I DARE SAY MR. STANHOPE +CAN TELL US. + +Second-rate knowledge and middling talents carry a man further at courts, +and in the busy part of the world, than superior knowledge and shining +parts. Tacitus very justly accounts for a man’s having always kept in +favor and enjoyed the best employments under the tyrannical reigns of +three or four of the very worst emperors, by saying that it was not +‘propter aliquam eximiam artem, sed quia par negotiis neque supra erat’. +Discretion is the great article; all these things are to be learned, and +only learned by keeping a great deal of the best company. Frequent those +good houses where you have already a footing, and wriggle yourself +somehow or other into every other. Haunt the courts particularly in order +to get that ROUTINE. + +This moment I receive yours of the 18th N. S. You will have had some time +ago my final answers concerning the pictures; and, by my last, an account +that the mohairs were gone to Madame Morel, at Calais, with the proper +directions. + +I am sorry that your two sons-in-law [?? D.W.], the Princes B----, are +such boobies; however, as they have the honor of being so nearly related +to you, I will show them what civilities I can. + +I confess you have not time for long absences from Paris, at present, +because of your various masters, all which I would have you apply to +closely while you are now in that capital; but when you return thither, +after the visit you intend me the honor of, I do not propose your having +any master at all, except Marcel, once or twice a week. And then the +courts will, I hope, be no longer strange countries to you; for I would +have you run down frequently to Versailles and St. Cloud, for three or +four days at a time. You know the Abbe de la Ville, who will present you +to others, so that you will soon be ‘faufile’ with the rest of the court. +Court is the soil in which you are to grow and flourish; you ought to be +well acquainted with the nature of it; like all other soil, it is in some +places deeper, in others lighter, but always capable of great improvement +by cultivation and experience. + +You say that you want some hints for a letter to Lady Chesterfield; more +use and knowledge of the world will teach you occasionally to write and +talk genteelly, ‘sup des riens’, which I can tell you is a very useful +part upon worldly knowledge; for in some companies, it would be imprudent +to talk of anything else; and with very many people it is impossible to +talk of anything else; they would not understand you. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXLIX + +LONDON, June 24, O. S. 1751 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Air, address, manners, and graces are of such infinite +advantage to whoever has them, and so peculiarly and essentially +necessary for you, that now, as the time of our meeting draws near, I +tremble for fear I should not find you possessed of them; and, to tell +you the truth, I doubt you are not yet sufficiently convinced for their +importance. There is, for instance, your intimate friend, Mr. H-----, who +with great merit, deep knowledge, and a thousand good qualities, will +never make a figure in the world while he lives. Why? Merely for want of +those external and showish accomplishments, which he began the world too +late to acquire; and which, with his studious and philosophical turn, I +believe he thinks are not worth his attention. He may, very probably, +make a figure in the republic of letters, but he had ten thousand times +better make a figure as a man of the world and of business in the +republic of the United Provinces, which, take my word for it, he never +will. + +As I open myself, without the least reserve, whenever I think that my +doing so can be of any use to you, I will give you a short account of +myself. When I first came into the world, which was at the age you are of +now, so that, by the way, you have got the start of me in that important +article by two or three years at least,--at nineteen I left the +University of Cambridge, where I was an absolute pedant; when I talked my +best, I quoted Horace; when I aimed at being facetious, I quoted Martial; +and when I had a mind to be a fine gentleman, I talked Ovid. I was +convinced that none but the ancients had common sense; that the classics +contained everything that was either necessary, useful, or ornamental to +men; and I was not without thoughts of wearing the ‘toga virilis’ of the +Romans, instead of the vulgar and illiberal dress of the moderns. With +these excellent notions I went first to The Hague, where, by the help of +several letters of recommendation, I was soon introduced into all the +best company; and where I very soon discovered that I was totally +mistaken in almost every one notion I had entertained. Fortunately, I had +a strong desire to please (the mixed result of good-nature and a vanity +by no means blamable), and was sensible that I had nothing but the +desire. I therefore resolved, if possible, to acquire the means, too. I +studied attentively and minutely the dress, the air, the manner, the +address, and the turn of conversation of all those whom I found to be the +people in fashion, and most generally allowed to please. I imitated them +as well as I could; if I heard that one man was reckoned remarkably +genteel, I carefully watched his dress, motions and attitudes, and formed +my own upon them. When I heard of another, whose conversation was +agreeable and engaging, I listened and attended to the turn of it. I +addressed myself, though ‘de tres mauvaise grace’, to all the most +fashionable fine ladies; confessed, and laughed with them at my own +awkwardness and rawness, recommending myself as an object for them to try +their skill in forming. By these means, and with a passionate desire of +pleasing everybody, I came by degrees to please some; and, I can assure +you, that what little figure I have made in the world, has been much more +owing to that passionate desire of pleasing universally than to any +intrinsic merit or sound knowledge I might ever have been master of. My +passion for pleasing was so strong (and I am very glad it was so), that I +own to you fairly, I wished to make every woman I saw in love with me, +and every man I met with admire me. Without this passion for the object, +I should never have been so attentive to the means; and I own I cannot +conceive how it is possible for any man of good-nature and good sense to +be without this passion. Does not good-nature incline us to please all +those we converse with, of whatever rank or station they may be? And does +not good sense and common observation, show of what infinite use it is to +please? Oh! but one may please by the good qualities of the heart, and +the knowledge of the head, without that fashionable air, address and +manner, which is mere tinsel. I deny it. A man may be esteemed and +respected, but I defy him to please without them. Moreover, at your age, +I would not have contented myself with barely pleasing; I wanted to shine +and to distinguish myself in the world as a man of fashion and gallantry, +as well as business. And that ambition or vanity, call it what you +please, was a right one; it hurt nobody, and made me exert whatever +talents I had. It is the spring of a thousand right and good things. + +I was talking you over the other day with one very much your friend, and +who had often been with you, both at Paris and in Italy. Among the +innumerable questions which you may be sure I asked him concerning you, I +happened to mention your dress (for, to say the truth, it was the only +thing of which I thought him a competent judge) upon which he said that +you dressed tolerably well at Paris; but that in Italy you dressed so +ill, that he used to joke with you upon it, and even to tear your +clothes. Now, I must tell you, that at your age it is as ridiculous not +to be very well dressed, as at my age it would be if I were to wear a +white feather and red-heeled shoes. Dress is one of various ingredients +that contribute to the art of pleasing; it pleases the eyes at least, and +more especially of women. Address yourself to the senses, if you would +please; dazzle the eyes, soothe and flatter the ears of mankind; engage +their hearts, and let their reason do its worst against you. ‘Suaviter in +modo’ is the great secret. Whenever you find yourself engaged insensibly, +in favor of anybody of no superior merit nor distinguished talents, +examine, and see what it is that has made those impressions upon you: and +you will find it to be that ‘douceur’, that gentleness of manners, that +air and address, which I have so often recommended to you; and from +thence draw this obvious conclusion, that what pleases you in them, will +please others in you; for we are all made of the same clay, though some +of the lumps are a little finer, and some a little coarser; but in +general, the surest way to judge of others, is to examine and analyze +one’s self thoroughly. When we meet I will assist you in that analysis, +in which every man wants some assistance against his own self-love. +Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CL + +GREENWICH, June 30, O. S. 1751. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Pray give the inclosed to our friend the Abbe; it is to +congratulate him upon his ‘Canonicat’, which I am really very glad of, +and I hope it will fatten him up to Boileau’s ‘Chanoine’; at present he +is as meagre as an apostle or a prophet. By the way, has he ever +introduced you to la Duchesse d’Aiguillon? If he has not, make him +present you; and if he has, frequent her, and make her many compliments +from me. She has uncommon, sense and knowledge for a woman, and her house +is the resort of one set of ‘les beaux esprits. It is a satisfaction and +a sort of credit to be acquainted with those gentlemen; and it puts a +young fellow in fashion. ‘A propos des beaux esprits’, you have ‘les +entries’ at Lady Sandwich’s; who, old as she was, when I saw her last, +had the strongest parts of any woman I ever knew in my life? If you are +not acquainted with her, either the Duchesse d’Aiguillon or Lady Hervey +can, and I dare say will; introduce you. I can assure you, it is very +well worth your while, both upon her own account, and for the sake of the +people of wit and learning who frequent her. In such companies there is +always something to be learned as well as manners; the conversation turns +upon something above trifles; some point of literature, criticism, +history, etc., is discussed with ingenuity and good manners; for I must +do the French people of learning justice; they are not bears, as most of +ours are: they are gentlemen. + +Our Abbe writes me word that you were gone to Compiegne: I am very glad +of it; other courts must form you for your own. He tells me too, that you +have left off riding at the ‘manege’; I have no objection to that, it +takes up a great deal of the morning; and if you have got a genteel and +firm seat on horseback, it is enough for you, now that tilts and +tournaments are laid aside. I suppose you have hunted at Compiegne. The +King’s hunting there, I am told, is a fine sight. The French manner of +hunting is gentlemanlike; ours is only for bumpkins and boobies. The poor +beasts are here pursued and run down by much greater beasts than +themselves, and the true British fox-hunter is most undoubtedly a species +appropriated and peculiar to this country, which no other part of the +globe produces. + +I hope you apply the time you have saved from the riding-house to useful +more than to learned purposes; for I can assure you they are very +different things. I would have you allow but one hour a-day for Greek; +and that more to keep what you have than to increase it: by Greek, I mean +useful Greek books, such as Demosthenes, Thucydides, etc., and not the +poets, with whom you are already enough acquainted. Your Latin will take +care of itself. Whatever more time you may have for reading, pray bestow +it upon those books which are immediately relative to your destination; +such as modern history, in the modern languages, memoirs, anecdotes, +letters, negotiations, etc. Collect also, if you can, authentically, the +present state of all the courts and countries in Europe, the characters +of the kings and princes, their wives, their ministers, and their w----s; +their several views, connections, and interests; the state of their +FINANCES, their military force, their trade, manufactures, and commerce. +That is the useful, the necessary knowledge for you, and indeed for every +gentleman. But with all this, remember, that living books are much better +than dead ones; and throw away no time (for it is thrown away) with the +latter, which you can employ well with the former; for books must now be +your only amusement, but, by no means your business. I had much rather +that you were passionately in love with some determined coquette of +condition (who would lead you a dance, fashion, supple, and polish you), +than that you knew all Plato and Aristotle by heart: an hour at +Versailles, Compiegne, or St. Cloud, is now worth more to you than three +hours in your closet, with the best books that ever were written. + +I hear the dispute between the court and the clergy is made up amicably, +both parties have yielded something; the king being afraid of losing more +of his soul, and the clergy more of their revenue. Those gentlemen are +very skillful in making the most of the vices and the weaknesses of the +laity. I hope you have read and informed yourself fully of everything +relative to that affair; it is a very important question, in which the +priesthood of every country in Europe is highly concerned. If you would +be thoroughly convinced that their tithes are of divine institution, and +their property the property of God himself, not to be touched by any +power on earth, read Fra Paolo De Beneficiis, an excellent and short +book; for which, and some other treaties against the court of Rome, he +was stilettoed; which made him say afterward, upon seeing an anonymous +book written against him by order of the Pope, ‘Conosco bene to stile +Romano’. + +The parliament of Paris, and the states of Languedoc, will, I believe, +hardly scramble off; having only reason and justice, but no terrors on +their side. Those are political and constitutional questions that well +deserve your attention and inquiries. I hope you are thoroughly master of +them. It is also worth your while to collect and keep all the pieces +written upon those subjects. + +I hope you have been thanked by your ladies, at least, if not paid in +money, for the mohairs, which I sent by a courier to Paris, some time +ago, instead of sending them to Madame Morel, at Calais, as I told you I +should. Do they like them; and do they like you the better for getting +them? ‘Le petite Blot devroit au moins payer de sa personne’. As for +Madame de Polignac, I believe you will very willingly hold her excused +from personal payment. + +Before you return to England, pray go again to Orli, for two or three +days, and also to St. Cloud, in order to secure a good reception there at +your return. Ask the Marquis de Matignon too, if he has any orders for +you in England, or any letters or packets for Lord Bolingbroke. Adieu! Go +on and prosper. + + + + +LETTER CLI + +GREENWICH, July 8, O. S. 1751. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter of the 3d July, N. +S. I am glad that you are so well with Colonel Yorke, as to be let into +secret correspondences. Lord Albemarle’s reserve to you is, I believe, +more owing to his secretary than to himself; for you seem to be much in +favor with him; and possibly too HE HAS NO VERY SECRET LETTERS to +communicate. However, take care not to discover the least dissatisfaction +upon this score: make the proper acknowledgments to Colonel Yorke, for +what he does show you; but let neither Lord Albemarle nor his people +perceive the least coldness on your part, upon account of what they do +not show you. It is very often necessary, not to manifest all one feels. +Make your court to, and connect yourself as much as possible with Colonel +Yorke; he may be of great use to you hereafter; and when you take leave, +not only offer to bring over any letters or packets, by way of security; +but even ask, as a favor, to be the carrier of a letter from him to his +father, the Chancellor. ‘A propos’ of your coming here; I confess that I +am weakly impatient for it, and think a few days worth getting; I would, +therefore, instead of the 25th of next month, N. S., which was the day +that I some time ago appointed for your leaving Paris, have you set out +on Friday the 20th of August, N. S.; in consequence of which you will be +at Calais some time on the Sunday following, and probably at Dover within +four-and-twenty hours afterward. If you land in the morning, you may, in +a postchaise, get to Sittingborne that day; if you come on shore in the +evening, you can only get to Canterbury, where you will be better lodged +than at Dover. I will not have you travel in the night, nor fatigue and +overheat yourself by running on fourscore miles the moment you land. You +will come straight to Blackheath, where I shall be ready to meet you, and +which is directly upon the Dover road to London; and we will go to town +together, after you have rested yourself a day or two here. All the other +directions, which I gave you in my former letter, hold still the same. +But, notwithstanding this regulation, should you have any particular +reasons for leaving Paris two or three days sooner or later, than the +above mentioned, ‘vous etes maitre’. Make all your arrangements at Paris +for about a six weeks stay in England at farthest. + +I had a letter the other day from Lord Huntingdon, of which one-half at +least was your panegyric; it was extremely welcome to me from so good a +hand. Cultivate that friendship; it will do you honor and give you +strength. Connections, in our mixed parliamentary government, are of +great use. + +I send you here inclosed the particular price of each of the mohairs; but +I do not suppose that you will receive a shilling for anyone of them. +However, if any of your ladies should take an odd fancy to pay, the +shortest way, in the course of business, is for you to keep the money, +and to take so much less from Sir John Lambert in your next draught upon +him. + +I am very sorry to hear that Lady Hervey is ill. Paris does not seem to +agree with her; she used to have great health here. ‘A propos’ of her; +remember, when you are with me, not to mention her but when you and I are +quite alone, for reasons which I will tell you when we meet: but this is +only between you and me; and I desire that you will not so much as hint +it to her, or to anybody else. + +If old Kurzay goes to the valley of Jehoshaphat, I cannot help it; it +will be an ease to our friend Madame Montconseil, who I believe maintains +her, and a little will not satisfy her in any way. + +Remember to bring your mother some little presents; they need not be of +value, but only marks of your affection and duty for one who has always +been tenderly fond of you. You may bring Lady Chesterfield a little +Martin snuffbox of about five Louis; and you need bring over no other +presents; you and I not wanting ‘les petits presens pour entretenir +l’amitee’. + +Since I wrote what goes before, I have talked you over minutely with Lord +Albemarle, who told me, that he could very sincerely commend you upon +every article but one; but upon that one you were often joked, both by +him and others. I desired to know what that was; he laughed and told me +it was the article of dress, in which you were exceedingly negligent. +Though he laughed, I can assure you that it is no laughing matter for +you; and you will possibly be surprised when I assert (but, upon my word, +it is literally true), that to be very well dressed is of much more +importance to you, than all the Greek you know will, be of these thirty +years. Remember that the world is now your only business; and that you +must adopt its customs and manners, be they silly or be they not. To +neglect your dress, is an affront to all the women you keep company with; +as it implies that you do not think them worth that attention which +everybody else doth; they mind dress, and you will never please them if +you neglect yours; and if you do not please the women, you will not +please half the men you otherwise might. It is the women who put a young +fellow in fashion even with the men. A young fellow ought to have a +certain fund of coquetry; which should make him try all the means of +pleasing, as much as any coquette in Europe can do. Old as I am, and +little thinking of women, God knows, I am very far from being negligent +of my dress; and why? From conformity to custom, and out of decency to +men, who expect that degree of complaisance. I do not, indeed, wear +feathers and red heels, which would ill suit my age; but I take care to +have my clothes well made, my wig well combed and powdered, my linen and +person extremely clean. I even allow my footman forty shillings a year +extraordinary, that they may be spruce and neat. Your figure especially, +which from its stature cannot be very majestic and interesting, should be +the more attended to in point of dress as it cannot be ‘imposante’, it +should be ‘gentile, aimable, bien mise’. It will not admit of negligence +and carelessness. + +I believe Mr. Hayes thinks that you have slighted him a little of late, +since you have got into so much other company. I do not by any means +blame you for not frequenting his house so much as you did at first, +before you had got into so many other houses more entertaining and more +instructing than his; on the contrary, you do very well; but, however, as +he was extremely civil to you, take care to be so to him, and make up in +manner what you omit in matter. See him, dine with him before you come +away, and ask his commands for England. + +Your triangular seal is done, and I have given it to an English +gentleman, who sets out in a week for Paris, and who will deliver it to +Sir John Lambert for you. + +I cannot conclude this letter without returning again to the showish, the +ornamental, the shining parts of your character; which, if you neglect, +upon my word you will render the solid ones absolutely useless; nay, such +is the present turn of the world, that some valuable qualities are even +ridiculous, if not accompanied by the genteeler accomplishments. +Plainness, simplicity, and quakerism, either in dress or manners, will by +no means do; they must both be laced and embroidered; speaking, or +writing sense, without elegance and turn, will be very little persuasive; +and the best figure in the world, without air and address, will be very +ineffectual. Some pedants may have told you that sound sense and learning +stand in, need of no ornaments; and, to support that assertion, elegantly +quote the vulgar proverb, that GOOD WINE NEEDS NO BUSH; but surely the +little experience you have already had of the world must have convinced +you that the contrary of that assertion is true. All those +accomplishments are now in your power; think of them, and of them only. I +hope you frequent La Foire St. Laurent, which I see is now open; you will +improve more by going there with your mistress, than by staying at home +and reading Euclid with your geometry master. Adieu. ‘Divertissez-vous, +il n’y a rien de tel’. + + + + +LETTER CLII + +GREENWICH, July 15, O. S. 1751 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: As this is the last, or last letter but one, that I think +I shall write before I have the pleasure of seeing you here, it may not +be amiss to prepare you a little for our interview, and for the time we +shall pass together. Before kings and princes meet, ministers on each +side adjust the important points of precedence, arm chairs, right hand +and left, etc., so that they know previously what they are to expect, +what they have to trust to; and it is right they should; for they +commonly envy or hate, but most certainly distrust each other. We shall +meet upon very different terms; we want no such preliminaries: you know +my tenderness, I know your affection. My only object, therefore, is to +make your short stay with me as useful as I can to you; and yours, I +hope, is to co-operate with me. Whether, by making it wholesome, I shall +make it pleasant to you, I am not sure. Emetics and cathartics I shall +not administer, because I am sure you do not want them; but for +alteratives you must expect a great many; and I can tell you that I have +a number of NOSTRUMS, which I shall communicate to nobody but yourself. +To speak without a metaphor, I shall endeavor to assist your youth with +all the experience that I have purchased, at the price of seven and fifty +years. In order to this, frequent reproofs, corrections, and admonitions +will be necessary; but then, I promise you, that they shall be in a +gentle, friendly, and secret manner; they shall not put you out of +countenance in company, nor out of humor when we are alone. I do not +expect that, at nineteen, you should have that knowledge of the world, +those manners, that dexterity, which few people have at nine-and-twenty. +But I will endeavor to give them you; and I am sure you will endeavor to +learn them, as far as your youth, my experience, and the time we shall +pass together, will allow. You may have many inaccuracies (and to be sure +you have, for who has not at your age?) which few people will tell you +of, and some nobody can tell you of but myself. You may possibly have +others, too, which eyes less interested, and less vigilant than mine, do +not discover; all those you shall hear of from one whose tenderness for +you will excite his curiosity and sharpen his penetration. The smallest +inattention or error in manners, the minutest inelegance of diction, the +least awkwardness in your dress and carriage, will not escape my +observation, nor pass without amicable correction. Two, the most intimate +friends in the world, can freely tell each other their faults, and even +their crimes, but cannot possibly tell each other of certain little +weaknesses; awkwardnesses, and blindnesses of self-love; to authorize +that unreserved freedom, the relation between us is absolutely necessary. +For example, I had a very worthy friend, with whom I was intimate enough +to tell him his faults; he had but few; I told him of them; he took it +kindly of me, and corrected them. But then, he had some weaknesses that I +could never tell him of directly, and which he was so little sensible of +himself, that hints of them were lost upon him. He had a scrag neck, of +about a yard long; notwithstanding which, bags being in fashion, truly he +would wear one to his wig, and did so; but never behind him, for, upon +every motion of his head, his bag came forward over one shoulder or the +other. He took it into his head too, that he must occasionally dance +minuets, because other people did; and he did so, not only extremely ill, +but so awkward, so disjointed, slim, so meagre, was his figure, that had +he danced as well as ever Marcel did, it would have been ridiculous in +him to have danced at all. I hinted these things to him as plainly as +friendship would allow, and to no purpose; but to have told him the +whole, so as to cure him, I must have been his father, which, thank God, +I am not. As fathers commonly go, it is seldom a misfortune to be +fatherless; and, considering the general run of sons, as seldom a +misfortune to be childless. You and I form, I believe, an exception to +that rule; for, I am persuaded that we would neither of us change our +relation, were it in our power. You will, I both hope and believe, be not +only the comfort, but the pride of my age; and, I am sure, I will be the +support, the friend, the guide of your youth. Trust me without reserve; I +will advise you without private interest, or secret envy. Mr. Harte will +do so too; but still there may be some little things proper for you to +know, and necessary for you to correct, which even his friendship would +not let him tell you of so freely as I should; and some, of which he may +not possibly be so good a judge of as I am, not having lived so much in +the great world. + +One principal topic of our conversation will be, not only the purity but +the elegance of the English language; in both which you are very +deficient. Another will be the constitution of this country, of which, I +believe, you know less than of most other countries in Europe. Manners, +attentions, and address, will also be the frequent subjects of our +lectures; and whatever I know of that important and necessary art, the +art of pleasing. I will unreservedly communicate to you. Dress too +(which, as things are, I can logically prove, requires some attention) +will not always escape our notice. Thus, my lectures will be more +various, and in some respects more useful than Professor Mascow’s, and +therefore, I can tell you, that I expect to be paid for them; but, as +possibly you would not care to part with your ready money, and as I do +not think that it would be quite handsome in me to accept it, I will +compound for the payment, and take it in attention and practice. + +Pray remember to part with all your friends, acquaintances, and +mistresses, if you have any at Paris, in such a manner as may make them +not only willing but impatient to see you there again. Assure them of +your desire of returning to them; and do it in a manner that they may +think you in earnest, that is ‘avec onction et une espece +d’attendrissement’. All people say, pretty near the same things upon +those occasions; it is the manner only that makes the difference; and +that difference is great. Avoid, however, as much as you can, charging +yourself with commissions, in your return from hence to Paris; I know, by +experience, that they are exceedingly troublesome, commonly expensive, +and very seldom satisfactory at last, to the persons who gave them; some +you cannot refuse, to people to whom you are obliged, and would oblige in +your turn; but as to common fiddle-faddle commissions, you may excuse +yourself from them with truth, by saying that you are to return to Paris +through Flanders, and see all those great towns; which I intend you shall +do, and stay a week or ten days at Brussels. Adieu! A good journey to +you, if this is my last; if not, I can repeat again what I shall wish +constantly. + + + + +LETTER CLIII + +LONDON, December 19, O. S. 1751--[Note the date, which indicates that the +sojourn with the author has ended.] + +MY DEAR FRIEND: You are now entered upon a scene of business, where I +hope you will one day make a figure. Use does a great deal, but care and +attention must be joined to it. The first thing necessary in writing +letters of business, is extreme clearness and perspicuity; every +paragraph should be so clear and unambiguous, that the dullest fellow in +the world may not be able to mistake it, nor obliged to read it twice in +order to understand it. This necessary clearness implies a correctness, +without excluding an elegance of style. Tropes, figures, antitheses, +epigrams, etc., would be as misplaced and as impertinent in letters of +business, as they are sometimes (if judiciously used) proper and pleasing +in familiar letters, upon common and trite subjects. In business, an +elegant simplicity, the result of care, not of labor, is required. +Business must be well, not affectedly dressed; but by no means +negligently. Let your first attention be to clearness, and read every +paragraph after you have written it, in the critical view of discovering +whether it is possible that any one man can mistake the true sense of it: +and correct it accordingly. + +Our pronouns and relatives often create obscurity or ambiguity; be +therefore exceedingly attentive to them, and take care to mark out with +precision their particular relations. For example, Mr. Johnson acquainted +me that he had seen Mr. Smith, who had promised him to speak to Mr. +Clarke, to return him (Mr. Johnson) those papers, which he (Mr. Smith) +had left some time ago with him (Mr. Clarke): it is better to repeat a +name, though unnecessarily, ten times, than to have the person mistaken +once. WHO, you know, is singly relative to persons, and cannot be applied +to things; WHICH and THAT are chiefly relative to things, but not +absolutely exclusive of persons; for one may say, the man THAT robbed or +killed such-a-one; but it is better to say, the man WHO robbed or killed. +One never says, the man or the woman WHICH. WHICH and THAT, though +chiefly relative to things, cannot be always used indifferently as to +things, and the ‘euoovca’ must sometimes determine their place. For +instance, the letter WHICH I received from you, WHICH you referred to in +your last, WHICH came by Lord Albemarle’s messenger WHICH I showed to +such-a-one; I would change it thus--The letter THAT I received from you; +WHICH you referred to in your last, THAT came by Lord Albemarle’s +messenger, and WHICH I showed to such-a-one. + +Business does not exclude (as possibly you wish it did) the usual terms +of politeness and good-breeding; but, on the contrary, strictly requires +them: such as, I HAVE THE HONOR TO ACQUAINT YOUR LORDSHIP; PERMIT ME TO +ASSURE YOU; IF I MAY BE ALLOWED TO GIVE MY OPINION, etc. For the minister +abroad, who writes to the minister at home, writes to his superior; +possibly to his patron, or at least to one who he desires should be so. + +Letters of business will not only admit of, but be the better for CERTAIN +GRACES--but then, they must be scattered with a sparing and skillful +hand; they must fit their place exactly. They must decently adorn without +encumbering, and modestly shine without glaring. But as this is the +utmost degree of perfection in letters of business, I would not advise +you to attempt those embellishments, till you have first laid your +foundation well. + +Cardinal d’Ossat’s letters are the true letters of business; those of +Monsieur d’Avaux are excellent; Sir William Temple’s are very pleasing, +but, I fear, too affected. Carefully avoid all Greek or Latin quotations; +and bring no precedents from the VIRTUOUS SPARTANS, THE POLITE ATHENIANS, +AND THE BRAVE ROMANS. Leave all that to futile pedants. No flourishes, no +declamation. But (I repeat it again) there is an elegant simplicity and +dignity of style absolutely necessary for good letters of business; +attend to that carefully. Let your periods be harmonious, without seeming +to be labored; and let them not be too long, for that always occasions a +degree of obscurity. I should not mention correct orthography, but that +you very often fail in that particular, which will bring ridicule upon +you; for no man is allowed to spell ill. I wish too that your handwriting +were much better; and I cannot conceive why it is not, since every man +may certainly write whatever hand he pleases. Neatness in folding up, +sealing, and directing your packets, is by no means to be neglected; +though, I dare say, you think it is. But there is something in the +exterior, even of a packet, that may please or displease; and +consequently worth some attention. + +You say that your time is very well employed; and so it is, though as yet +only in the outlines, and first ROUTINE of business. They are previously +necessary to be known; they smooth the way for parts and dexterity. +Business requires no conjuration nor supernatural talents, as people +unacquainted with it are apt to think. Method, diligence, and discretion, +will carry a man, of good strong common sense, much higher than the +finest parts, without them, can do. ‘Par negotiis, neque supra’, is the +true character of a man of business; but then it implies ready attention +and no ABSENCES, and a flexibility and versatility of attention from one +object to another, without being engrossed by anyone. + +Be upon your guard against the pedantry and affectation of business which +young people are apt to fall into, from the pride of being concerned in +it young. They look thoughtful, complain of the weight of business, throw +out mysterious hints, and seem big with secrets which they do not know. +Do you, on the contrary, never talk of business but to those with whom +you are to transact it; and learn to seem vacuus and idle, when you have +the most business. Of all things, the ‘volte sciollo’, and the ‘pensieri +stretti’, are necessary. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLIV + +LONDON, December 30, O. S. 1751 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The parliaments are the courts of justice of France, and +are what our courts of justice in Westminster-Hall are here. They used +anciently to follow the court, and administer justice in presence of the +King. Philip le Bel first fixed it at Paris, by an edict of 1302. It +consisted then of but one chambre, which was called ‘la Chambre des +Prelats’, most of the members being ecclesiastics; but the multiplicity +of business made it by degrees necessary to create several other +chambres. It consists now of seven chambres: + +‘La Grande Chambre’, which is the highest court of justice, and to which +appeals lie from the others. + +‘Les cinq Chambres des Enquetes’, which are like our Common Pleas, and +Court of Exchequer. + +‘La Tournelle’, which is the court for criminal justice, and answers to +our Old Bailey and King’s Bench. + +There are in all twelve parliaments in France: 1. Paris 2. Toulouse +3. Grenoble 4. Bourdeaux 5. Dijon 6. Rouen 7. Aix en Provence +8. Rennes en Bretagne 9. Pau en Navarre 10. Metz 11. Dole en Franche +Comte 12. Douay + +There are three ‘Conseils Souverains’, which may almost be called +parliaments; they are those of: + +Perpignan Arras Alsace + +For further particulars of the French parliaments, read ‘Bernard de la +Rochefavin des Parlemens de France’, and other authors, who have treated +that subject constitutionally. But what will be still better, converse +upon it with people of sense and knowledge, who will inform you of the +particular objects of the several chambres, and the businesses of the +respective members, as, ‘les Presidens, les Presidens a Mortier’ (these +last so called from their black velvet caps laced with gold), ‘les +Maitres tres des Requetes, les Greffiers, le Procureur General, les +Avocats Generaux, les Conseillers’, etc. The great point in dispute is +concerning the powers of the parliament of Paris in matters of state, and +relatively to the Crown. They pretend to the powers of the States-General +of France when they used to be assembled (which, I think, they have not +been since the reign of Lewis the Thirteenth, in the year 1615). The +Crown denies those pretensions, and considers them only as courts of +justice. Mezeray seems to be on the side of the parliament in this +question, which is very well worth your inquiry. But, be that as it will, +the parliament of Paris is certainly a very respectable body, and much +regarded by the whole kingdom. The edicts of the Crown, especially those +for levying money on the subjects, ought to be registered in parliament; +I do not say to have their effect, for the Crown would take good care of +that; but to have a decent appearance, and to procure a willing +acquiescence in the nation. And the Crown itself, absolute as it is, does +not love that strong opposition, and those admirable remonstrances, which +it sometimes meets with from the parliaments. Many of those detached +pieces are very well worth your collecting; and I remember, a year or two +ago, a remonstrance of the parliament of Douay, upon the subject, as I +think, of the ‘Vingtieme’, which was in my mind one of the finest and +most moving compositions I ever read. They owned themselves, indeed, to +be slaves, and showed their chains: but humbly begged of his Majesty to +make them a little lighter, and less galling. + +THE STATES OF FRANCE were general assemblies of the three states or +orders of the kingdom; the Clergy, the Nobility, and the ‘Tiers Etat’, +that is, the people. They used to be called together by the King, upon +the most important affairs of state, like our Lords and Commons in +parliament, and our Clergy in convocation. Our parliament is our states, +and the French parliaments are only their courts of justice. The Nobility +consisted of all those of noble extraction, whether belonging to the +SWORD or to the ROBE, excepting such as were chosen (which sometimes +happened) by the Tiers Etat as their deputies to the States-General. The +Tiers Etat was exactly our House of Commons, that is, the people, +represented by deputies of their own choosing. Those who had the most +considerable places, ‘dans la robe’, assisted at those assemblies, as +commissioners on the part of the Crown. The States met, for the first +time that I can find (I mean by the name of ‘les etats’), in the reign of +Pharamond, 424, when they confirmed the Salic law. From that time they +have been very frequently assembled, sometimes upon important occasions, +as making war and peace, reforming abuses, etc.; at other times, upon +seemingly trifling ones, as coronations, marriages, etc. Francis the +First assembled them, in 1526, to declare null and void his famous treaty +of Madrid, signed and sworn to by him during his captivity there. They +grew troublesome to the kings and to their ministers, and were but seldom +called after the power of the Crown grew strong; and they have never been +heard of since the year 1615. Richelieu came and shackled the nation, and +Mazarin and Lewis the Fourteenth riveted the shackles. + +There still subsist in some provinces in France, which are called ‘pais d +etats’, an humble local imitation, or rather mimicry, of the great +‘etats’, as in Languedoc, Bretagne, etc. They meet, they speak, they +grumble, and finally submit to whatever the King orders. + +Independently of the intrinsic utility of this kind of knowledge to every +man of business, it is a shame for any man to be ignorant of it, +especially relatively to any country he has been long in. Adieu. + + + + + LETTERS TO HIS SON + 1752 + + By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + + on the Fine Art of becoming a + + MAN OF THE WORLD + + and a + + GENTLEMAN + + + + +LETTER CLV + +LONDON, January 2, O. S. 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Laziness of mind, or inattention, are as great enemies to +knowledge as incapacity; for, in truth, what difference is there between +a man who will not, and a man who cannot be informed? This difference +only, that the former is justly to be blamed, the latter to be pitied. +And yet how many there are, very capable of receiving knowledge, who from +laziness, inattention, and incuriousness, will not so much as ask for it, +much less take the least pains to acquire it! + +Our young English travelers generally distinguish themselves by a +voluntary privation of all that useful knowledge for which they are sent +abroad; and yet, at that age, the most useful knowledge is the most easy +to be acquired; conversation being the book, and the best book in which +it is contained. The drudgery of dry grammatical learning is over, and +the fruits of it are mixed with, and adorned by, the flowers of +conversation. How many of our young men have been a year at Rome, and as +long at Paris, without knowing the meaning and institution of the +Conclave in the former, and of the parliament in the latter? and this +merely for want of asking the first people they met with in those several +places, who could at least have given them some general notions of those +matters. + +You will, I hope, be wiser, and omit no opportunity (for opportunities +present themselves every hour of the day) of acquainting yourself with +all those political and constitutional particulars of the kingdom and +government of France. For instance, when you hear people mention le +Chancelier, or ‘le Garde de Sceaux’, is it any great trouble for you to +ask, or for others to tell you, what is the nature, the powers, the +objects, and the profits of those two employments, either when joined +together, as they often are, or when separate, as they are at present? +When you hear of a gouverneur, a lieutenant du Roi, a commandant, and an +intendant of the same province, is, it not natural, is it not becoming, +is it not necessary, for a stranger to inquire into their respective +rights and privileges? And yet, I dare say, there are very few Englishmen +who know the difference between the civil department of the Intendant, +and the military powers of the others. When you hear (as I am persuaded +you must) every day of the ‘Vingtieme’, which is one in twenty, and +consequently five per cent., inquire upon what that tax is laid, whether +upon lands, money, merchandise, or upon all three; how levied, and what +it is supposed to produce. When you find in books: (as you will +sometimes) allusion to particular laws and customs, do not rest till you +have traced them up to their source. To give you two examples: you will +meet in some French comedies, ‘Cri’, or ‘Clameur de Haro’; ask what it +means, and you will be told that it is a term of the law in Normandy, and +means citing, arresting, or obliging any person to appear in the courts +of justice, either upon a civil or a criminal account; and that it is +derived from ‘a Raoul’, which Raoul was anciently Duke of Normandy, and a +prince eminent for his justice; insomuch, that when any injustice was +committed, the cry immediately was, ‘Venez, a Raoul, a Raoul’, which +words are now corrupted and jumbled into ‘haro’. Another, ‘Le vol du +Chapon, that is, a certain district of ground immediately contiguous to +the mansion-seat of a family, and answers to what we call in English +DEMESNES. It is in France computed at about 1,600 feet round the house, +that being supposed to be the extent of the capon’s flight from ‘la basse +cour’. This little district must go along with the mansion-seat, however +the rest of the estate may be divided. + +I do not mean that you should be a French lawyer; but I would not have +you unacquainted with the general principles of their law, in matters +that occur every day: Such is the nature of their descents, that is, the +inheritance of lands: Do they all go to the eldest son, or are they +equally divided among the children of the deceased? In England, all lands +unsettled descend to the eldest son, as heir-at-law, unless otherwise +disposed of by the father’s will, except in the county of Kent, where a +particular custom prevails, called Gavelkind; by which, if the father +dies intestate, all his children divide his lands equally among them. In +Germany, as you know, all lands that, are not fiefs are equally divided +among all the children, which ruins those families; but all male fiefs of +the empire descend unalienably to the next male heir, which preserves +those families. In France, I believe, descents vary in different +provinces. + +The nature of marriage contracts deserves inquiry. In England, the +general practice is, the husband takes all the wife’s fortune; and in +consideration of it settles upon her a proper pin-money, as it is called; +that is, an annuity during his life, and a jointure after his death. In +France it is not so, particularly at Paris; where ‘la communaute des +biens’ is established. Any married woman at Paris (IF YOU ARE ACQUAINTED +WITH ONE) can inform you of all these particulars. + +These and other things of the same nature, are the useful and rational +objects of the curiosity of a man of sense and business. Could they only +be attained by laborious researches in folio-books, and wormeaten +manuscripts, I should not wonder at a young fellow’s being ignorant of +them; but as they are the frequent topics of conversation, and to be +known by a very little degree of curiosity, inquiry and attention, it is +unpardonable not to know them. + +Thus I have given you some hints only for your inquiries; ‘l’Etat de la +France, l’Almanach Royal’, and twenty other such superficial books, will +furnish you with a thousand more. ‘Approfondissez.’ + +How often, and how justly, have I since regretted negligences of this +kind in my youth! And how often have I since been at great trouble to +learn many things which I could then have learned without any! Save +yourself now, then, I beg of you, that regret and trouble hereafter. Ask +questions, and many questions; and leave nothing till you are thoroughly +informed of it. Such pertinent questions are far from being illbred or +troublesome to those of whom you ask them; on the contrary, they are a +tacit compliment to their knowledge; and people have a better opinion of +a young man, when they see him desirous to be informed. + +I have by last post received your two letters of the 1st and 5th of +January, N. S. I am very glad that you have been at all the shows at +Versailles: frequent the courts. I can conceive the murmurs of the French +at the poorness of the fireworks, by which they thought their king of +their country degraded; and, in truth, were things always as they should +be, when kings give shows they ought to be magnificent. + +I thank you for the ‘These de la Sorbonne’, which you intend to send me, +and which I am impatient to receive. But pray read it carefully yourself +first; and inform yourself what the Sorbonne is by whom founded, and for +what puraoses. + +Since you have time, you have done very well to take an Italian and a +German master; but pray take care to leave yourelf time enough for +company; for it is in company only that you can learn what will be much +more useful to you than either Italian or German; I mean ‘la politesse, +les manieres et les graces, without which, as I told you long ago, and I +told you true, ‘ogni fatica a vana’. Adieu. + +Pray make my compliments to Lady Brown. + + + + +LETTER CLVI + +LONDON, January 6, O. S. 1752. +MY DEAR FRIEND + +I recommended to you, in my last, some inquiries into the constitution of +that famous society the Sorbonne; but as I cannot wholly trust to the +diligence of those inquiries, I will give you here the outlines of that +establishment; which may possibly excite you to inform yourself of +particulars, which you are more ‘a portee’ to know than I am. + +It was founded by Robert de Sorbon, in the year 1256 for sixteen poor +scholars in divinity; four of each nation, of the university of which it +made a part; since that it hath been much extended and enriched, +especially by the liberality and pride of Cardinal Richelieu; who made it +a magnificent building for six-and-thirty doctors of that society to live +in; besides which, there are six professors and schools for divinity. +This society has long been famous for theological knowledge and +exercitations. There unintelligible points are debated with passion, +though they can never be determined by reason. Logical subtilties set +common sense at defiance; and mystical refinements disfigure and disguise +the native beauty and simplicity of true natural religion; wild +imaginations form systems, which weak minds adopt implicitly, and which +sense and reason oppose in vain; their voice is not strong enough to be +heard in schools of divinity. Political views are by no means neglected +in those sacred places; and questions are agitated and decided, according +to the degree of regard, or rather submission, which the Sovereign is +pleased to show the Church. Is the King a slave to the Church, though a +tyrant to the laity? The least resistance to his will shall be declared +damnable. But if he will not acknowledge the superiority of their +spiritual over his temporal, nor even admit their ‘imperium in imperio’, +which is the least they will compound for, it becomes meritorious not +only to resist, but to depose him. And I suppose that the bold +propositions in the thesis you mention, are a return for the valuation of +‘les biens du Clerge’. + +I would advise you, by all means, to attend to two or three of their +public disputations, in order to be informed both of the manner and the +substance of those scholastic exercises. Pray remember to go to all those +kind of things. Do not put it off, as one is too apt to do those things +which one knows can be done every day, or any day; for one afterward +repents extremely, when too late, the not having done them. + +But there is another (so-called) religious society, of which the minutest +circumstance deserves attention, and furnishes great matter for useful +reflections. You easily guess that I mean the society of ‘les R. R. P. P. +Jesuites’, established but in the year 1540, by a Bull of Pope Paul III. +Its progress, and I may say its victories, were more rapid than those of +the Romans; for within the same century it governed all Europe; and, in +the next, it extended its influence over the whole world. Its founder was +an abandoned profligate Spanish officer, Ignatius Loyola; who, in the +year 1521, being wounded in the leg at the ‘siege of Pampeluna, went mad +from the smart of his wound, the reproaches of his conscience, and his +confinement, during which he read the lives of the Saints. Consciousness +of guilt, a fiery temper, and a wild imagination, the common ingredients +of enthusiasm, made this madman devote himself to the particular service +of the Virgin Mary; whose knight-errant he declared himself, in the very +same form in which the old knight-errants in romances used to declare +themselves the knights and champions of certain beautiful and +incomparable princesses, whom sometimes they had, but oftener had not, +seen. For Dulcinea del Toboso was by no means the first princess whom her +faithful and valorous knight had never seen in his life. The enthusiast +went to the Holy Land, from whence he returned to Spain, where he began +to learn Latin and philosophy at three-and-thirty years old, so that no +doubt but he made great progress in both. The better to carry on his mad +and wicked designs, he chose four disciples, or rather apostles, all +Spaniards, viz, Laynes, Salmeron, Bobadilla, and Rodriguez. He then +composed the rules and constitutions of his order; which, in the year +1547, was called the order of Jesuits, from the church of Jesus in Rome, +which was given them. Ignatius died in 1556, aged sixty-five, thirty-five +years after his conversion, and sixteen years after the establishment of +his society. He was canonized in the year 1609, and is doubtless now a +saint in heaven. + +If the religious and moral principles of this society are to be detested, +as they justly are, the wisdom of their political principles is as justly +to be admired. Suspected, collectively as an order, of the greatest +crimes, and convicted of many, they have either escaped punishment, or +triumphed after it; as in France, in the reign of Henry IV. They have, +directly or indirectly, governed the consciences and the councils of all +the Catholic princes in Europe; they almost governed China in the reign +of Cangghi; and they are now actually in possession of the Paraguay in +America, pretending, but paying no obedience to the Crown of Spain. As a +collective body they are detested, even by all the Catholics, not +excepting the clergy, both secular and regular, and yet, as individuals, +they are loved, respected, and they govern wherever they are. + +Two things, I believe, contribute to their success. The first, that +passive, implicit, unlimited obedience to their General (who always +resides at Rome), and to the superiors of their several houses, appointed +by him. This obedience is observed by them all to a most astonishing +degree; and, I believe, there is no one society in the world, of which so +many individuals sacrifice their private interest to the general one of +the society itself. The second is the education of youth, which they have +in a manner engrossed; there they give the first, and the first are the +lasting impressions; those impressions are always calculated to be +favorable to the society. I have known many Catholics, educated by the +Jesuits, who, though they detested the society, from reason and +knowledge, have always remained attached to it, from habit and prejudice. +The Jesuits know, better than any set of people in the world, the +importance of the art of pleasing, and study it more; they become all +things to all men in order to gain, not a few, but many. In Asia, Africa, +and America they become more than half pagans, in order to convert the +pagans to be less than half Christians. In private families they begin by +insinuating themselves as friends, they grow to be favorites, and they +end DIRECTORS. Their manners are not like those of any other regulars in +the world, but gentle, polite, and engaging. They are all carefully bred +up to that particular destination, to which they seem to have a natural +turn; for which reason one sees most Jesuits excel in some particular +thing. They even breed up some for martyrdom in case of need; as the +superior of a Jesuit seminary at Rome told Lord Bolingbroke. ‘E abbiamo +anche martiri per il martirio, se bisogna’. + +Inform yourself minutely of everything concerning this extraordinary +establishment; go into their houses, get acquainted with individuals, +hear some of them preach. The finest preacher I ever heard in my life is +le Pere Neufville, who, I believe, preaches still at Paris, and is so +much in the best company, that you may easily get personally acquainted +with him. + +If you would know their ‘morale’ read Pascal’s ‘Lettres Provinciales’, in +which it is very truly displayed from their own writings. + +Upon the whole, this is certain, that a society of which so little good +is said, and so much ill believed, and that still not only subsists, but +flourishes, must be a very able one. It is always mentioned as a proof of +the superior abilities of the Cardinal Richelieu, that, though hated by +all the nation, and still more by his master, he kept his power in spite +of both. + +I would earnestly wish you to do everything now, which I wish, that I had +done at your age, and did not do. Every country has its peculiarities, +which one can be much better informed of during one’s residence there, +than by reading all the books in the world afterward. While you are in +Catholic countries, inform yourself of all the forms and ceremonies of +that tawdry church; see their converts both of men and women, know their +several rules and orders, attend their most remarkable ceremonies; have +their terms of art explained to you, their ‘tierce, sexte, nones, +matines; vepres, complies’; their ‘breviares, rosaires, heures, +chapelets, agnus’, etc., things that many people talk of from habit, +though few people know the true meaning of anyone of them. Converse with, +and study the characters of some of those incarcerated enthusiasts. +Frequent some ‘parloirs’, and see the air and manners of those Recluse, +who are a distinct nation themselves, and like no other. + +I dined yesterday with Mrs. F----d, her mother and husband. He is an +athletic Hibernian, handsome in his person, but excessively awkward and +vulgar in his air and manner. She inquired much after you, and, I +thought, with interest. I answered her as a ‘Mezzano’ should do: ‘Et je +pronai votre tendresse, vos soins, et vos soupirs’. + +When you meet with any British returning to their own country, pray send +me by them any little ‘brochures, factums, theses’, etc., ‘qui font du +bruit ou du plaisir a Paris’. Adieu, child. + + + + +LETTER CLVII + +LONDON, January 23, O. S. 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Have you seen the new tragedy of Varon,--[Written by the +Vicomte de Grave; and at that time the general topic of conversation at +Paris.]--and what do you think of it? Let me know, for I am determined to +form my taste upon yours. I hear that the situations and incidents are +well brought on, and the catastrophe unexpected and surprising, but the +verses bad. I suppose it is the subject of all conversations at Paris, +where both women and men are judges and critics of all such performances; +such conversations, that both form and improve the taste, and whet the +judgment; are surely preferable to the conversations of our mixed +companies here; which, if they happen to rise above bragg and whist, +infallibly stop short of everything either pleasing or instructive. + +I take the reason of this to be, that (as women generally give the ‘ton’ +to the conversation) our English women are not near so well informed and +cultivated as the French; besides that they are naturally more serious +and silent. + +I could wish there were a treaty made between the French and English +theatres, in which both parties should make considerable concessions. The +English ought to give up their notorious violations of all the unities; +and all their massacres, racks, dead bodies, and mangled carcasses, which +they so frequently exhibit upon their stage. The French should engage to +have more action and less declamation; and not to cram and crowd things +together, to almost a degree of impossibility, from a too scrupulous +adherence to the unities. The English should restrain the licentiousness +of their poets, and the French enlarge the liberty of theirs; their poets +are the greatest slaves in their country, and that is a bold word; ours +are the most tumultuous subjects in England, and that is saying a good +deal. Under such regulations one might hope to see a play in which one +should not be lulled to sleep by the length of a monotonical declamation, +nor frightened and shocked by the barbarity of the action. The unity of +time extended occasionally to three or four days, and the unity of place +broke into, as far as the same street, or sometimes the same town; both +which, I will affirm, are as probable as four-and-twenty hours, and the +same room. + +More indulgence too, in my mind, should be shown, than the French are +willing to allow, to bright thoughts, and to shining images; for though, +I confess, it is not very natural for a hero or a princess to say fine +things in all the violence of grief, love, rage, etc., yet, I can as well +suppose that, as I can that they should talk to themselves for half an +hour; which they must necessarily do, or no tragedy could be carried on, +unless they had recourse to a much greater absurdity, the choruses of the +ancients. Tragedy is of a nature, that one must see it with a degree of +self-deception; we must lend ourselves a little to the delusion; and I am +very willing to carry that complaisance a little farther than the French +do. + +Tragedy must be something bigger than life, or it would not affect us. In +nature the most violent passions are silent; in tragedy they must speak, +and speak with dignity too. Hence the necessity of their being written in +verse, and unfortunately for the French, from the weakness of their +language, in rhymes. And for the same reason, Cato the Stoic, expiring at +Utica, rhymes masculine and feminine at Paris; and fetches his last +breath at London, in most harmmonious and correct blank verse. + +It is quite otherwise with Comedy, which should be mere common life, and +not one jot bigger. Every character should speak upon the stage, not only +what it would utter in the situation there represented, but in the same +manner in which it would express it. For which reason I cannot allow +rhymes in comedy, unless they were put into the mouth, and came out of +the mouth of a mad poet. But it is impossible to deceive one’s self +enough (nor is it the least necessary in comedy) to suppose a dull rogue +of an usurer cheating, or ‘gross Jean’ blundering in the finest rhymes in +the world. + +As for Operas, they are essentially too absurd and extravagant to +mention; I look upon them as a magic scene, contrived to please the eyes +and the ears, at the expense of the understanding; and I consider +singing, rhyming, and chiming heroes, and princesses, and philosophers, +as I do the hills, the trees, the birds, and the beasts, who amicably +joined in one common country dance, to the irresistible turn of Orpheus’s +lyre. Whenever I go to an opera, I leave my sense and reason at the door +with my half guinea, and deliver myself up to my eyes and my ears. + +Thus I have made you my poetical confession; in which I have acknowledged +as many sins against the established taste in both countries, as a frank +heretic could have owned against the established church in either, but I +am now privileged by my age to taste and think for myself, and not to +care what other people think of me in those respects; an advantage which +youth, among its many advantages, hath not. It must occasionally and +outwardly conform, to a certain degree, to establish tastes, fashions, +and decisions. A young man may, with a becoming modesty, dissent, in +private companies, from public opinions and prejudices: but he must not +attack them with warmth, nor magisterially set up his own sentiments +against them. Endeavor to hear, and know all opinions; receive them with +complaisance; form your own with coolness, and give it with modesty. + +I have received a letter from Sir John Lambert, in which he requests me +to use my interest to procure him the remittance of Mr. Spencer’s money, +when he goes abroad and also desires to know to whose account he is to +place the postage of my letters. I do not trouble him with a letter in +answer, since you can execute the commission. Pray make my compliments to +him, and assure him that I will do all I can to procure him Mr. Spencer’s +business; but that his most effectual way will be by Messrs. Hoare, who +are Mr. Spencer’s cashiers, and who will undoubtedly have their choice +upon whom they will give him his credit. As for the postage of the +letters, your purse and mine being pretty near the same, do you pay it, +over and above your next draught. + +Your relations, the Princes B-----, will soon be with you at Paris; for +they leave London this week: whenever you converse with them, I desire it +may be in Italian; that language not being yet familiar enough to you. + +By our printed papers, there seems to be a sort of compromise between the +King and the parliament, with regard to the affairs of the hospitals, by +taking them out of the hands of the Archbishop of Paris, and placing them +in Monsieur d’Argenson’s: if this be true, that compromise, as it is +called, is clearly a victory on the side of the court, and a defeat on +the part of the parliament; for if the parliament had a right, they had +it as much to the exclusion of Monsieur d’Argenson as of the Archbishop. +Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLVIII + +LONDON, February 6, O. S. 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Your criticism of Varon is strictly just; but, in truth, +severe. You French critics seek for a fault as eagerly as I do for a +beauty: you consider things in the worst light, to show your skill, at +the expense of your pleasure; I view them in the best, that I may have +more pleasure, though at the expense of my judgment. A ‘trompeur trompeur +et demi’ is prettily said; and, if you please, you may call ‘Varon, un +Normand’, and ‘Sostrate, un Manceau, qui vaut un Normand et demi’; and, +considering the ‘denouement’ in the light of trick upon trick, it would +undoubtedly be below the dignity of the buskin, and fitter for the sock. + +But let us see if we cannot bring off the author. The great question upon +which all turns, is to discover and ascertain who Cleonice really is. +There are doubts concerning her ‘etat’; how shall they be cleared? Had +the truth been extorted from Varon (who alone knew) by the rack, it would +have been a true tragical ‘denouement’. But that would probably not have +done with Varon, who is represented as a bold, determined, wicked, and at +that time desperate fellow; for he was in the hands of an enemy who he +knew could not forgive him, with common prudence or safety. The rack +would, therefore, have extorted no truth from him; but he would have died +enjoying the doubts of his enemies, and the confusion that must +necessarily attend those doubts. A stratagem is therefore thought of to +discover what force and terror could not, and the stratagem such as no +king or minister would disdain, to get at an important discovery. If you +call that stratagem a TRICK, you vilify it, and make it comical; but call +that trick a STRATAGEM, or a MEASURE, and you dignify it up to tragedy: +so frequently do ridicule or dignity turn upon one single word. It is +commonly said, and more particularly by Lord Shaftesbury, that ridicule +is the best test of truth; for that it will not stick where it is not +just. I deny it. A truth learned in a certain light, and attacked in +certain words, by men of wit and humor, may, and often doth, become +ridiculous, at least so far that the truth is only remembered and +repeated for the sake of the ridicule. The overturn of Mary of Medicis +into a river, where she was half-drowned, would never have been +remembered if Madame de Vernuel, who saw it, had not said ‘la Reine +boit’. Pleasure or malignity often gives ridicule a weight which it does +not deserve. The versification, I must confess, is too much neglected and +too often bad: but, upon the whole, I read the play with pleasure. + +If there is but a great deal of wit and character in your new comedy, I +will readily compound for its having little or no plot. I chiefly mind +dialogue and character in comedies. Let dull critics feed upon the +carcasses of plays; give me the taste and the dressing. + +I am very glad you went to Versailles to see the ceremony of creating the +Prince de Conde ‘Chevalier de l’ Ordre’; and I do not doubt but that upon +this occasion you informed yourself thoroughly of the institution and +rules of that order. If you did, you were certainly told it was +instituted by Henry III. immediately after his return, or rather his +flight from Poland; he took the hint of it at Venice, where he had seen +the original manuscript of an order of the ‘St. Esprit, ou droit desir’, +which had been instituted in 1352, by Louis d’Anjou, King of Jerusalem +and Sicily, and husband to Jane, Queen of Naples, Countess of Provence. +This Order was under the protection of St. Nicholas de Bari, whose image +hung to the collar. Henry III. found the Order of St. Michael prostituted +and degraded, during the civil wars; he therefore joined it to his new +Order of the St. Esprit, and gave them both together; for which reason +every knight of the St. Esprit is now called Chevalier des Ordres du Roi. +The number of the knights hath been different, but is now fixed to ONE +HUNDRED, exclusive of the sovereign. There, are many officers who wear +the riband of this Order, like the other knights; and what is very +singular is, that these officers frequently sell their employments, but +obtain leave to wear the blue riband still, though the purchasers of +those offices wear it also. + +As you will have been a great while in France, people will expect that +you should be ‘au fait’ of all these sort of things relative to that +country. But the history of all the Orders of all countries is well worth +your knowledge; the subject occurs often, and one should not be ignorant +of it, for fear of some such accident as happened to a solid Dane at +Paris, who, upon seeing ‘L’Ordre du St. Esprit’, said, ‘Notre St. Esprit +chez nous c’est un Elephant’. Almost all the princes in Germany have +their Orders too; not dated, indeed, from any important events, or +directed to any great object, but because they will have orders, to show +that they may; as some of them, who have the ‘jus cudendae monetae’, +borrow ten shillings worth of gold to coin a ducat. However, wherever you +meet with them, inform yourself, and minute down a short account of them; +they take in all the colors of Sir Isaac Newton’s prisms. N. B: When you +inquire about them, do not seem to laugh. + +I thank you for le Mandement de Monseigneur l’Archeveyue; it is very well +drawn, and becoming an archbishop. But pray do not lose sight of a much +more important object, I mean the political disputes between the King and +the parliament, and the King and the clergy; they seem both to be +patching up; but, however, get the whole clue to them, as far as they +have gone. + +I received a letter yesterday from Madame Monconseil, who assures me you +have gained ground ‘du cote des maniires’, and that she looks upon you to +be ‘plus qu’a moitie chemin’. I am very glad to hear this, because, if +you are got above half way of your journey, surely you will finish it, +and not faint in the course. Why do you think I have this affair so +extremely at heart, and why do I repeat it so often? Is it for your sake, +or for mine? You can immediately answer yourself that question; you +certainly have--I cannot possibly have any interest in it. If then you +will allow me, as I believe you may, to be a judge of what is useful and +necessary to you, you must, in consequence, be convinced of the infinite +importance of a point which I take so much pains to inculcate. + +I hear that the new Duke of Orleans ‘a remercie Monsieur de Melfort, and +I believe, ‘pas sans raison’, having had obligations to him; ‘mais il ne +l’a pas remercie en mari poli’, but rather roughly. Il faut que ce soit +un bourru’. I am told, too, that people get bits of his father’s rags, by +way of relies; I wish them joy, they will do them a great deal of good. +See from hence what weaknesses human nature is capable of, and make +allowances for such in all your plans and reasonings. Study the +characters of the people you have to do with, and know what they are, +instead of thinking them what they should be; address yourself generally +to the senses, to the heart, and to the weaknesses of mankind, but very +rarely to their reason. + +Good-night or good-morrow to you, according to the time you shall receive +this letter from, Yours. + + + + +LETTER CLIX + +LONDON, February 14, O. S. 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: In a month’s time, I believe I shall have the pleasure of +sending you, and you will have the pleasure of reading, a work of Lord +Bolingbroke’s, in two volumes octavo, “Upon the Use of History,” in +several letters to Lord Hyde, then Lord Cornbury. It is now put into the +press. It is hard to determine whether this work will instruct or please +most: the most material historical facts, from the great era of the +treaty of Munster, are touched upon, accompanied by the most solid +reflections, and adorned by all that elegance of style which was peculiar +to himself, and in which, if Cicero equals, he certainly does not exceed +him; but every other writer falls short of him. I would advise you almost +to get this book by heart. I think you have a turn to history, you love +it, and have a memory to retain it: this book will teach you the proper +use of it. Some people load their memories indiscriminately with +historical facts, as others do their stomachs with food; and bring out +the one, and bring up the other, entirely crude and undigested. You will +find in Lord Bolingbroke’s book an infallible specific against that +epidemical complaint.--[It is important to remember that at this time +Lord Bolingbroke’s philosophical works had not appeared; which accounts +for Lord Chesterfield’s recommending to his son, in this, as well as in +some foregoing passages, the study of Lord Bolingbroke’s writings.] + +I remember a gentleman who had read history in this thoughtless and +undistinguishing manner, and who, having traveled, had gone through the +Valtelline. He told me that it was a miserable poor country, and +therefore it was, surely, a great error in Cardinal Richelieu to make +such a rout, and put France to so much expense about it. Had my friend +read history as he ought to have done, he would have known that the great +object of that great minister was to reduce the power of the House of +Austria; and in order to that, to cut off as much as he could the +communication between the several parts of their then extensive +dominions; which reflections would have justified the Cardinal to him, in +the affair of the Valtelline. But it was easier to him to remember facts, +than to combine and reflect. + +One observation I hope you will make in reading history; for it is an +obvious and a true one. It is, that more people have made great figures +and great fortunes in courts by their exterior accomplishments, than by +their interior qualifications. Their engaging address, the politeness of +their manners, their air, their turn, hath almost always paved the way +for their superior abilities, if they have such, to exert themselves. +They have been favorites before they have been ministers. In courts, an +universal gentleness and ‘douceur dans les manieres’ is most absolutely +necessary: an offended fool, or a slighted valet de chambre, may very +possibly do you more hurt at court, than ten men of merit can do you +good. Fools, and low people, are always jealous of their dignity, and +never forget nor forgive what they reckon a slight: on the other hand, +they take civility and a little attention as a favor; remember, and +acknowledge it: this, in my mind, is buying them cheap; and therefore +they are worth buying. The prince himself, who is rarely the shining +genius of his court, esteems you only by hearsay but likes you by his +senses; that is, from your air, your politeness, and your manner of +addressing him, of which alone he is a judge. There is a court garment, +as well as a wedding garment, without which you will not be received. +That garment is the ‘volto sciolto’; an imposing air, an elegant +politeness, easy and engaging manners, universal attention, an +insinuating gentleness, and all those ‘je ne sais quoi’ that compose the +GRACES. + +I am this moment disagreeably interrupted by a letter; not from you, as I +expected, but from a friend of yours at Paris, who informs me that you +have a fever which confines you at home. Since you have a fever, I am +glad you have prudence enough in it to stay at home, and take care of +yourself; a little more prudence might probably have prevented it. Your +blood is young, and consequently hot; and you naturally make a great deal +by your good stomach and good digestion; you should, therefore, +necessarily attenuate and cool it, from time to time, by gentle purges, +or by a very low diet, for two or three days together, if you would avoid +fevers. Lord Bacon, who was a very great physician in both senses of the +word, hath this aphorism in his “Essay upon Health,” ‘Nihil magis ad +Sanitatem tribuit quam crebrae et domesticae purgationes’. By +‘domesticae’, he means those simple uncompounded purgatives which +everybody can administer to themselves; such as senna-tea, stewed prunes +and senria, chewing a little rhubarb, or dissolving an ounce and a half +of manna in fair water, with the juice of a lemon to make it palatable. +Such gentle and unconfining evacuations would certainly prevent those +feverish attacks to which everybody at your age is subject. + +By the way, I do desire, and insist, that whenever, from any +indisposition, you are not able to write to me upon the fixed days, that +Christian shall; and give me a TRUE account how you are. I do not expect +from him the Ciceronian epistolary style; but I will content myself with +the Swiss simplicity and truth. + +I hope you extend your acquaintance at Paris, and frequent variety of +companies; the only way of knowing the world; every set of company +differs in some particulars from another; and a man of business must, in +the course of his life, have to do with all sorts. It is a very great +advantage to know the languages of the several countries one travels in; +and different companies may, in some degree, be considered as different +countries; each hath its distinctive language, customs, and manners: know +them all, and you will wonder at none. + +Adieu, child. Take care of your health; there are no pleasures without +it. + + + + +LETTER CLX + +LONDON, February 20, O. S. 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: In all systems whatsoever, whether of religion, +government, morals, etc., perfection is the object always proposed, +though possibly unattainable; hitherto, at least, certainly unattained. +However, those who aim carefully at the mark itself, will unquestionably +come nearer it, than those who from despair, negligence, or indolence, +leave to chance the work of skill. This maxim holds equally true in +common life; those who aim at perfection will come infinitely nearer it +than those desponding or indolent spirits, who foolishly say to +themselves: Nobody is perfect; perfection is unattainable; to attempt it +is chimerical; I shall do as well as others; why then should I give +myself trouble to be what I never can, and what, according to the common +course of things, I need not be, PERFECT? + +I am very sure that I need not point out to you the weakness and the +folly of this reasoning, if it deserves the name of reasoning. It would +discourage and put a stop to the exertion of any one of our faculties. On +the contrary, a man of sense and spirit says to himself: Though the point +of perfection may (considering the imperfection of our nature) be +unattainable, my care, my endeavors, my attention, shall not be wanting +to get as near it as I can. I will approach it every day, possibly, I may +arrive at it at last; at least, what I am sure is in my own power, I will +not be distanced. Many fools (speaking of you) say to me: What! would you +have him perfect? I answer: Why not? What hurt would it do him or me? O, +but that is impossible, say they; I reply, I am not sure of that: +perfection in the abstract, I admit to be unattainable, but what is +commonly called perfection in a character I maintain to be attainable, +and not only that, but in every man’s power. He hath, continue they, a +good head, a good heart, a good fund of knowledge, which would increase +daily: What would you have more? Why, I would have everything more that +can adorn and complete a character. Will it do his head, his heart, or +his knowledge any harm, to have the utmost delicacy of manners, the most +shining advantages of air and address, the most endearing attentions, and +the most engaging graces? But as he is, say they, he is loved wherever he +is known. I am very glad of it, say I; but I would have him be liked +before he is known, and loved afterward. I would have him, by his first +abord and address, make people wish to know him, and inclined to love +him: he will save a great deal of time by it. Indeed, reply they, you are +too nice, too exact, and lay too much stress upon things that are of very +little consequence. Indeed, rejoin I, you know very little of the nature +of mankind, if you take those things to be of little consequence: one +cannot be too attentive to them; it is they that always engage the heart, +of which the understanding is commonly the bubble. And I would much +rather that he erred in a point of grammar, of history, of philosophy, +etc., than in point of manners and address. But consider, he is very +young; all this will come in time. I hope so; but that time must be when +he is young, or it will never be at all; the right ‘pli’ must be taken +young, or it will never be easy or seem natural. Come, come, say they +(substituting, as is frequently done, assertion instead of argument), +depend upon it he will do very well: and you have a great deal of reason +to be satisfied with him. I hope and believe he will do well, but I would +have him do better than well. I am very well pleased with him, but I +would be more, I would be proud of him. I would have him have lustre as +well as weight. Did you ever know anybody that reunited all these +talents? Yes, I did; Lord Bolingbroke joined all the politeness, the +manners, and the graces of a courtier, to the solidity of a statesman, +and to the learning of a pedant. He was ‘omnis homo’; and pray what +should hinder my boy from being so too, if he ‘hath, as I think he hath, +all the other qualifications that you allow him? Nothing can hinder him, +but neglect of or inattention to, those objects which his own good sense +must tell him are, of infinite consequence to him, and which therefore I +will not suppose him capable of either neglecting or despising. + +This (to tell you the whole truth) is the result of a controversy that +passed yesterday, between Lady Hervey and myself, upon your subject, and +almost in the very words. I submit the decision of it to yourself; let +your own good sense determine it, and make you act in consequence of that +determination. The receipt to make this composition is short and +infallible; here I give it to you: + +Take variety of the best company, wherever you are; be minutely attentive +to every word and action; imitate respectively those whom you observe to +be distinguished and considered for any one accomplishment; then mix all +those several accomplishments together, and serve them up yourself to +others. + +I hope your fair, or rather your brown AMERICAN is well. I hear that she +makes very handsome presents, if she is not so herself. I am told there +are people at Paris who expect, from this secret connection, to see in +time a volume of letters, superior to Madame de Graffiny’s Peruvian ones; +I lay in my claim to one of the first copies. + +Francis’s Genie--[Francis’s “Eugenia.”]--hath been acted twice, with most +universal applause; to-night is his third night, and I am going to it. I +did not think it would have succeeded so well, considering how long our +British audiences have been accustomed to murder, racks, and poison, in +every tragedy; but it affected the heart so much, that it triumphed over +habit and prejudice. All the women cried, and all the men were moved. The +prologue, which is a very good one, was made entirely by Garrick. The +epilogue is old Cibber’s; but corrected, though not enough, by Francis. +He will get a great deal of, money by it; and, consequently, be better +able to lend you sixpence, upon any emergency. + +The parliament of Paris, I find by the newspapers, has not carried its +point concerning the hospitals, and, though the King hath given up the +Archbishop, yet as he has put them under the management and direction ‘du +Grand Conseil’, the parliament is equally out of the question. This will +naturally put you upon inquiring into the constitution of the ‘Grand +Conseil’. You will, doubtless, inform yourself who it is composed of, +what things are ‘de son ressort’, whether or not there lies an appeal +from thence to any other place; and of all other particulars, that may +give you a clear notion of this assembly. There are also three or four +other Conseils in France, of which you ought to know the constitution and +the objects; I dare say you do know them already; but if you do not, lose +no time in informing yourself. These things, as I have often told you, +are best learned in various French companies: but in no English ones, for +none of our countrymen trouble their heads about them. To use a very +trite image, collect, like the bee, your store from every quarter. In +some companies (‘parmi les fermiers generaux nommement’) you may, by +proper inquiries, get a general knowledge, at least, of ‘les affaires des +finances’. When you are with ‘des gens de robe’, suck them with regard to +the constitution, and civil government, and ‘sic de caeteris’. This shows +you the advantage of keeping a great deal of different French company; an +advantage much superior to any that you can possibly receive from +loitering and sauntering away evenings in any English company at Paris, +not even excepting Lord A------. Love of ease, and fear of restraint (to +both which I doubt you are, for a young fellow, too much addicted) may +invite you among your countrymen: but pray withstand those mean +temptations, ‘et prenez sur vous’, for the sake of being in those +assemblies, which alone can inform your mind and improve your manners. +You have not now many months to continue at Paris; make the most of them; +get into every house there, if you can; extend acquaintance, know +everything and everybody there; that when you leave it for other places, +you may be ‘au fait’, and even able to explain whatever you may hear +mentioned concerning it. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXI + +LONDON, March 2, O. S. 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Whereabouts are you in Ariosto? Or have you gone through +that most ingenious contexture of truth and lies, of serious and +extravagant, of knights-errant, magicians, and all that various matter +which he announces in the beginning of his poem: + + Le Donne, I Cavalier, l’arme, gli amori, + Le cortesie, l’audaci impreso io canto. + +I am by no means sure that Homer had superior invention, or excelled more +in description than Ariosto. What can be more seducing and voluptuous, +than the description of Alcina’s person and palace? What more ingeniously +extravagant, than the search made in the moon for Orlando’s lost wits, +and the account of other people’s that were found there? The whole is +worth your attention, not only as an ingenious poem, but as the source of +all modern tales, novels, fables, and romances; as Ovid’s +“Metamorphoses;” was of the ancient ones; besides, that when you have +read this work, nothing will be difficult to you in the Italian language. +You will read Tasso’s ‘Gierusalemme’, and the ‘Decamerone di Boccacio’, +with great facility afterward; and when you have read those three +authors, you will, in my opinion, have read all the works of invention +that are worth reading in that language; though the Italians would be +very angry at me for saying so. + +A gentleman should know those which I call classical works, in every +language; such as Boileau, Corneille, Racine, Moliere, etc., in French; +Milton, Dryden, Pope, Swift, etc., in English; and the three authors +above mentioned in Italian; whether you have any such in German I am not +quite sure, nor, indeed, am I inquisitive. These sort of books adorn the +mind, improve the fancy, are frequently alluded to by, and are often the +subjects of conversations of the best companies. As you have languages to +read, and memory to retain them, the knowledge of them is very well worth +the little pains it will cost you, and will enable you to shine in +company. It is not pedantic to quote and allude to them, which it would +be with regard to the ancients. + +Among the many advantages which you have had in your education, I do not +consider your knowledge of several languages as the least. You need not +trust to translations; you can go to the source; you can both converse +and negotiate with people of all nations, upon equal terms; which is by +no means the case of a man, who converses or negotiates in a language +which those with whom he hath to do know much better than himself. In +business, a great deal may depend upon the force and extent of one word; +and, in conversation, a moderate thought may gain, or a good one lose, by +the propriety or impropriety, the elegance or inelegance of one single +word. As therefore you now know four modern languages well, I would have +you study (and, by the way, it will be very little trouble to you) to +know them correctly, accurately, and delicately. Read some little books +that treat of them, and ask questions concerning their delicacies, of +those who are able to answer you. As, for instance, should I say in +French, ‘la lettre que je vous ai ECRIT’, or, ‘la lettre que je vous ai +ECRITE’? in which, I think, the French differ among themselves. There is +a short French grammar by the Port Royal, and another by Pere Buffier, +both which are worth your reading; as is also a little book called ‘Les +Synonymes Francois. There are books of that kind upon the Italian +language, into some of which I would advise you to dip; possibly the +German language may have something of the same sort, and since you +already speak it, the more properly you speak it the better; one would, I +think, as far as possible, do all one does correctly and elegantly. It is +extremely engaging to people of every nation, to meet with a foreigner +who hath taken pains enough to speak their language correctly; it +flatters that local and national pride and prejudice of which everybody +hath some share. + +Francis’s “Eugenia,” which I will send you, pleased most people of good +taste here; the boxes were crowded till the sixth night, when the pit and +gallery were totally deserted, and it was dropped. Distress, without +death, was not sufficient to affect a true British audience, so long +accustomed to daggers, racks, and bowls of poison: contrary to Horace’s +rule, they desire to see Medea murder her children upon the stage. The +sentiments were too delicate to move them; and their hearts are to be +taken by storm, not by parley. + +Have you got the things, which were taken from you at Calais, restored? +and, among them, the little packet which my sister gave you for Sir +Charles Hotham? In this case, have you forwarded it to him? If you have +not had an opportunity, you will have one soon; which I desire you will +not omit; it is by Monsieur d’Aillion, whom you will see in a few days at +Paris, in his way to Geneva, where Sir Charles now is, and will remain +some time. Adieu: + + + + +LETTER CLXII + +LONDON, March 5, O. S. 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: As I have received no letter from you by the usual post, +I am uneasy upon account of your health; for, had you been well, I am +sure you would have written, according to your engagement and my +requisition. You have not the least notion of any care of your health; +but though I would not have you be a valetudinarian, I must tell you that +the best and most robust health requires some degree of attention to +preserve. Young fellows, thinking they have so much health and time +before them, are very apt to neglect or lavish both, and beggar +themselves before they are aware: whereas a prudent economy in both would +make them rich indeed; and so far from breaking in upon their pleasures, +would improve, and almost perpetuate them. Be you wiser, and, before it +is too late, manage both with care and frugality; and lay out neither, +but upon good interest and security. + +I will now confine myself to the employment of your time, which, though I +have often touched upon formerly, is a subject that, from its importance, +will bear repetition. You have it is true, a great deal of time before +you; but, in this period of your life, one hour usefully employed may be +worth more than four-and-twenty hereafter; a minute is precious to you +now, whole days may possibly not be so forty years hence. Whatever time +you allow, or can snatch for serious reading (I say snatch, because +company and the knowledge of the world is now your chief object), employ +it in the reading of some one book, and that a good one, till you have +finished it: and do not distract your mind with various matters at the +same time. In this light I would recommend to you to read ‘tout de suite’ +Grotius ‘de Jure Belli et Pacis’, translated by Barbeyrac, and +Puffendorff’s ‘Jus Gentium’, translated by the same hand. For accidental +quarters of hours, read works of invention, wit and humor, of the best, +and not of trivial authors, either ancient or modern. + +Whatever business you have, do it the first moment you can; never by +halves, but finish it without interruption, if possible. Business must +not be sauntered and trifled with; and you must not say to it, as Felix +did to Paul, “At a more convenient season I will speak to thee.” The most +convenient season for business is the first; but study and business in +some measure point out their own times to a man of sense; time is much +oftener squandered away in the wrong choice and improper methods of +amusement and pleasures. + +Many people think that they are in pleasures, provided they are neither +in study nor in business. Nothing like it; they are doing nothing, and +might just as well be asleep. They contract habitudes from laziness, and +they only frequent those places where they are free from all restraints +and attentions. Be upon your guard against this idle profusion of time; +and let every place you go to be either the scene of quick and lively +pleasures, or the school of your own improvements; let every company you +go into either gratify your senses, extend your knowledge, or refine your +manners. Have some decent object of gallantry in view at some places; +frequent others, where people of wit and taste assemble; get into others, +where people of superior rank and dignity command respect and attention +from the rest of the company; but pray frequent no neutral places, from +mere idleness and indolence. Nothing forms a young man so much as being +used to keep respectable and superior company, where a constant regard +and attention is necessary. It is true, this is at first a disagreeable +state of restraint; but it soon grows habitual, and consequently easy; +and you are amply paid for it, by the improvement you make, and the +credit it gives you. What you said some time ago was very true, +concerning ‘le Palais Royal’; to one of your age the situation is +disagreeable enough: you cannot expect to be much taken notice of; but +all that time you can take notice of others; observe their manners, +decipher their characters, and insensibly you will become one of the +company. + +All this I went through myself, when I was of your age. I have sat hours +in company without being taken the least notice of; but then I took +notice of them, and learned in their company how to behave myself better +in the next, till by degrees I became part of the best companies myself. +But I took great care not to lavish away my time in those companies where +there were neither quick pleasures nor useful improvements to be +expected. + +Sloth, indolence, and ‘mollesse’ are pernicious and unbecoming a young +fellow; let them be your ‘ressource’ forty years hence at soonest. +Determine, at all events, and however disagreeable it may to you in some +respects, and for some time, to keep the most distinguished and +fashionable company of the place you are at, either for their rank, or +for their learning, or ‘le bel esprit et le gout’. This gives you +credentials to the best companies, wherever you go afterward. Pray, +therefore, no indolence, no laziness; but employ every minute in your +life in active pleasures, or useful employments. Address yourself to some +woman of fashion and beauty, wherever you are, and try how far that will +go. If the place be not secured beforehand, and garrisoned, nine times in +ten you will take it. By attentions and respect you may always get into +the highest company: and by some admiration and applause, whether merited +or not, you may be sure of being welcome among ‘les savans et les beaux +esprits’. There are but these three sorts of company for a young fellow; +there being neither pleasure nor profit in any other. + +My uneasiness with regard to your health is this moment removed by your +letter of the 8th N. S., which, by what accident I do not know, I did not +receive before. + +I long to read Voltaire’s ‘Rome Sauvee’, which, by the very faults that +your SEVERE critics find with it, I am sure I shall like; for I will at +an any time give up a good deal of regularity for a great deal of +brillant; and for the brillant surely nobody is equal to Voltaire. +Catiline’s conspiracy is an unhappy subject for a tragedy; it is too +single, and gives no opportunity to the poet to excite any of the tender +passions; the whole is one intended act of horror, Crebillon was sensible +of this defect, and to create another interest, most absurdly made +Catiline in love with Cicero’s daughter, and her with him. + +I am very glad that you went to Versailles, and dined with Monsieur de +St. Contest. That is company to learn ‘les bonnes manieres’ in; and it +seems you had ‘les bonnes morceaux’ into the bargain. Though you were no +part of the King of France’s conversation with the foreign ministers, and +probably not much entertained with it, do you think that it is not very +useful to you to hear it, and to observe the turn and manners of people +of that sort? It is extremely useful to know it well. The same in the +next rank of people, such as ministers of state, etc., in whose company, +though you cannot yet, at your age, bear a part, and consequently be +diverted, you will observe and learn, what hereafter it may be necessary +for you to act. + +Tell Sir John Lambert that I have this day fixed Mr. Spencer’s having his +credit upon him; Mr. Hoare had also recommended him. I believe Mr. +Spencer will set out next month for some place in France, but not Paris. +I am sure he wants a great deal of France, for at present he is most +entirely English: and you know very well what I think of that. And so we +bid you heartily good-night. + + + + +LETTER CLXIII + +LONDON, March 16, O. S. 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: How do you go on with the most useful and most necessary +of all studies, the study of the world? Do you find that you gain +knowledge? And does your daily experience at once extend and demonstrate +your improvement? You will possibly ask me how you can judge of that +yourself. I will tell you a sure way of knowing. Examine yourself, and +see whether your notions of the world are changed, by experience, from +what they were two years ago in theory; for that alone is one favorable +symptom of improvement. At that age (I remember it in myself) every +notion that one forms is erroneous; one hath seen few models, and those +none of the best, to form one’s self upon. One thinks that everything is +to be carried by spirit and vigor; that art is meanness, and that +versatility and complaisance are the refuge of pusilanimity and weakness. +This most mistaken opinion gives an indelicacy, a ‘brusquerie’, and a +roughness to the manners. Fools, who can never be undeceived, retain them +as long as they live: reflection, with a little experience, makes men of +sense shake them off soon. When they come to be a little better +acquainted with themselves, and with their own species, they discover +that plain right reason is, nine times in ten, the fettered and shackled +attendant of the triumph of the heart and the passions; and, +consequently, they address themselves nine times in ten to the conqueror, +not to the conquered: and conquerors, you know, must be applied to in the +gentlest, the most engaging, and the most insinuating manner. Have you +found out that every woman is infallibly to be gained by every sort of +flattery, and every man by one sort or other? Have you discovered what +variety of little things affect the heart, and how surely they +collectively gain it? If you have, you have made some progress. I would +try a man’s knowledge of the world, as I would a schoolboy’s knowledge of +Horace: not by making him construe ‘Maecenas atavis edite regibus’, which +he could do in the first form; but by examining him as to the delicacy +and ‘curiosa felicitas’ of that poet. A man requires very little +knowledge and experience of the world, to understand glaring, +high-colored, and decided characters; they are but few, and they strike +at first: but to distinguish the almost imperceptible shades, and the +nice gradations of virtue and vice, sense and folly, strength and +weakness (of which characters are commonly composed), demands some +experience, great observation, and minute attention. In the same cases, +most people do the same things, but with this material difference, upon +which the success commonly turns: A man who hath studied the world knows +when to time, and where to place them; he hath analyzed the characters he +applies to, and adapted his address and his arguments to them: but a man, +of what is called plain good sense, who hath only reasoned by himself, +and not acted with mankind, mistimes, misplaces, runs precipitately and +bluntly at the mark, and falls upon his nose in the way. In the common +manners of social life, every man of common sense hath the rudiments, the +A B C of civility; he means not to offend, and even wishes to please: +and, if he hath any real merit, will be received and tolerated in good +company. But that is far from being enough; for, though he may be +received, he will never be desired; though he does not offend, he will +never be loved; but, like some little, insignificant, neutral power, +surrounded by great ones, he will neither be feared nor courted by any; +but, by turns, invaded by all, whenever it is their interest. A most +contemptible situation! Whereas, a man who hath carefully attended to, +and experienced, the various workings of the heart, and the artifices of +the head; and who, by one shade, can trace the progression of the whole +color; who can, at the proper times, employ all the several means of +persuading the understanding, and engaging the heart, may and will have +enemies; but will and must have friends: he may be opposed, but he will +be supported too; his talents may excite the jealousy of some, but his +engaging arts will make him beloved by many more; he will be +considerable; he will be considered. Many different qualifications must +conspire to form such a man, and to make him at once respectable and +amiable; the least must be joined to the greatest; the latter would be +unavailing without the former; and the former would be futile and +frivolous, without the latter. Learning is acquired by reading books; but +the much more necessary learning, the knowledge of the world, is only to +be acquired by reading men, and studying all the various editions of +them. Many words in every language are generally thought to be +synonymous; but those who study the language attentively will find, that +there is no such thing; they will discover some little difference, some +distinction between all those words that are vulgarly called synonymous; +one hath always more energy, extent, or delicacy, than another. It is the +same with men; all are in general, and yet no two in particular, exactly +alike. Those who have not accurately studied, perpetually mistake them; +they do not discern the shades and gradations that distinguish characters +seemingly alike. Company, various company, is the only school for this +knowledge. You ought to be, by this time, at least in the third form of +that school, from whence the rise to the uppermost is easy and quick; but +then you must have application and vivacity; and you must not only bear +with, but even seek restraint in most companies, instead of stagnating in +one or two only, where indolence and love of ease may be indulged. + +In the plan which I gave you in my last,--[That letter is missing.]--for +your future motions, I forgot to tell you; that, if a king of the Romans +should be chosen this year, you shall certainly be at that election; and +as, upon those occasions, all strangers are excluded from the place of +the election, except such as belong to some ambassador, I have already +eventually secured you a place in the suite of the King’s Electoral +Ambassador, who will be sent upon that account to Frankfort, or wherever +else the election may be. This will not only secure you a sight of the +show, but a knowledge of the whole thing; which is likely to be a +contested one, from the opposition of some of the electors, and the +protests of some of the princes of the empire. That election, if there is +one, will, in my opinion, be a memorable era in the history of the +empire; pens at least, if not swords, will be drawn; and ink, if not +blood, will be plentifully shed by the contending parties in that +dispute. During the fray, you may securely plunder, and add to your +present stock of knowledge of the ‘jus publicum imperii’. The court of +France hath, I am told, appointed le President Ogier, a man of great +abilities, to go immediately to Ratisbon, ‘pour y souffler la discorde’. +It must be owned that France hath always profited skillfully of its +having guaranteed the treaty of Munster; which hath given it a constant +pretense to thrust itself into the affairs of the empire. When France got +Alsace yielded by treaty, it was very willing to have held it as a fief +of the empire; but the empire was then wiser. Every power should be very +careful not to give the least pretense to a neighboring power to meddle +with the affairs of its interior. Sweden hath already felt the effects of +the Czarina’s calling herself Guarantee of its present form of +government, in consequence of the treaty of Neustadt, confirmed afterward +by that of Abo; though, in truth, that guarantee was rather a provision +against Russia’s attempting to alter the then new established form of +government in Sweden, than any right given to Russia to hinder the Swedes +from establishing what form of government they pleased. Read them both, +if you can get them. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXIV + +LONDON, April 73, O. S. 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I receive this moment your letter of the 19th, N. S., +with the inclosed pieces relative to the present dispute between the King +and the parliament. I shall return them by Lord Huntingdon, whom you will +soon see at Paris, and who will likewise carry you the piece, which I +forgot in making up the packet I sent you by the Spanish Ambassador. The +representation of the parliament is very well drawn, ‘suaviter in modo, +fortiter in re’. They tell the King very respectfully, that, in a certain +case, WHICH THEY SHOULD THINK IT CRIMINAL To SUPPOSE, they would not obey +him. This hath a tendency to what we call here revolution principles. I +do not know what the Lord’s anointed, his vicegerent upon earth, divinely +appointed by him, and accountable to none but him for his actions, will +either think or do, upon these symptoms of reason and good sense, which +seem to be breaking out all over France: but this I foresee, that, before +the end of this century, the trade of both king and priest will not be +half so good a one as it has been. Du Clos, in his “Reflections,” hath +observed, and very truly, ‘qu’il y a un germe de raison qui commence a se +developper en France’;--a developpement that must prove fatal to Regal +and Papal pretensions. Prudence may, in many cases, recommend an +occasional submission to either; but when that ignorance, upon which an +implicit faith in both could only be founded, is once removed, God’s +Vicegerent, and Christ’s Vicar, will only be obeyed and believed, as far +as what the one orders, and the other says, is conformable to reason and +to truth. + +I am very glad (to use a vulgar expression) that You MAKE AS IF YOU WERE +NOT WELL, though you really are; I am sure it is the likeliest way to +keep so. Pray leave off entirely your greasy, heavy pastry, fat creams, +and indigestible dumplings; and then you need not confine yourself to +white meats, which I do not take to be one jot wholesomer than beef, +mutton, and partridge. + +Voltaire sent me, from Berlin, his ‘History du Siecle de Louis XIV. It +came at a very proper time; Lord Bolingbroke had just taught me how +history should be read; Voltaire shows me how it should be written. I am +sensible that it will meet with almost as many critics as readers. +Voltaire must be criticised; besides, every man’s favorite is attacked: +for every prejudice is exposed, and our prejudices are our mistresses; +reason is at best our wife, very often heard indeed, but seldom minded. +It is the history of the human understanding, written by a man of parts, +for the use of men of parts. Weak minds will not like it, even though +they do not understand it; which is commonly the measure of their +admiration. Dull ones will want those minute and uninteresting details +with which most other histories are encumbered. He tells me all I want to +know, and nothing more. His reflections are short, just, and produce +others in his readers. Free from religious, philosophical, political and +national prejudices, beyond any historian I ever met with, he relates all +those matters as truly and as impartially, as certain regards, which must +always be to some degree observed, will allow him; for one sees plainly +that he often says much less than he would say, if he might. He hath made +me much better acquainted with the times of Lewis XIV., than the +innumerable volumes which I had read could do; and hath suggested this +reflection to me, which I have never made before--His vanity, not his +knowledge, made him encourage all, and introduce many arts and sciences +in his country. He opened in a manner the human understanding in France, +and brought it to its utmost perfection; his age equalled in all, and +greatly exceeded in many things (pardon me, Pedants!) the Augustan. This +was great and rapid; but still it might be done, by the encouragement, +the applause, and the rewards of a vain, liberal, and magnificent prince. +What is much more surprising is, that he stopped the operations of the +human mind just where he pleased; and seemed to say, “Thus far shalt thou +go, and no farther.” For, a bigot to his religion, and jealous of his +power, free and rational thoughts upon either, never entered into a +French head during his reign; and the greatest geniuses that ever any age +produced, never entertained a doubt of the divine right of Kings, or the +infallibility of the Church. Poets, Orators, and Philosophers, ignorant +of their natural rights, cherished their chains; and blind, active faith +triumphed, in those great minds, over silent and passive reason. The +reverse of this seems now to be the case in France: reason opens itself; +fancy and invention fade and decline. + +I will send you a copy of this history by Lord Huntingdon, as I think it +very probable that it is not allowed to be published and sold at Paris. +Pray read it more than once, and with attention, particularly the second +volume, which contains short, but very clear accounts of many very +interesting things, which are talked of by everybody, though fairly. +understood by very few. There are two very puerile affectations which I +wish this book had been free from; the one is, the total subversion of +all the old established French orthography; the other is, the not making +use of any one capital letter throughout the whole book, except at the +beginning of a paragraph. It offends my eyes to see rome, paris, france, +Caesar, I henry the fourth, etc., begin with small letters; and I do not +conceive that there can be any reason for doing it, half so strong as the +reason of long usage is to the contrary. This is an affectation below +Voltaire; who, I am not ashamed to say, that I admire and delight in, as +an author, equally in prose and in verse. + +I had a letter a few days ago from Monsieur du Boccage, in which he says, +‘Monsieur Stanhope s’est jete dans la politique, et je crois qu’il y +reussira’: You do very well, it is your destination; but remember that, +to succeed in great things, one must first learn to please in little +ones. Engaging manners and address must prepare the way for superior +knowledge and abilities to act with effect. The late Duke of +Marlborough’s manners and address prevailed with the first king of +Prussia, to let his troops remain in the army of the Allies, when neither +their representations, nor his own share in the common cause could do it. +The Duke of Marlborough had no new matter to urge to him; but had a +manner, which he could not, nor did not, resist. Voltaire, among a +thousand little delicate strokes of that kind, says of the Duke de la +Feuillade, ‘qu’il etoit l’homme le plus brillant et le plus aimable du +royaume; et quoique gendre du General et Ministre, il avoit pour lui la +faveur publique’. Various little circumstances of that sort will often +make a man of great real merit be hated, if he hath not address and +manners to make him be loved. Consider all your own circumstances +seriously; and you will find that, of all arts, the art of pleasing is +the most necessary for you to study and possess. A silly tyrant said, +‘oderint modo timeant’; a wise man would have said, ‘modo ament nihil +timendum est mihi’. Judge from your own daily experience, of the efficacy +of that pleasing ‘je ne sais quoi’, when you feel, as you and everybody +certainly does, that in men it is more engaging than knowledge, in women +than beauty. + +I long to see Lord and Lady-------(who are not yet arrived), because they +have lately seen you; and I always fancy, that I can fish out something +new concerning you, from those who have seen you last: not that I shall +much rely upon their accounts, because I distrust the judgment of Lord +and Lady-------, in those matters about which I am most inquisitive. They +have ruined their own son by what they called and thought loving him. +They have made him believe that the world was made for him, not he for +the world; and unless he stays abroad a great while, and falls into very +good company, he will expect, what he will never find, the attentions and +complaisance from others, which he has hitherto been used to from Papa +and Mamma. This, I fear, is too much the case of Mr. ----; who, I doubt, +will be run through the body, and be near dying, before he knows how to +live. However you may turn out, you can never make me any of these +reproaches. I indulged no silly, womanish fondness for you; instead of +inflicting my tenderness upon you, I have taken all possible methods to +make you deserve it; and thank God you do; at least, I know but one +article, in which you are different from what I could wish you; and you +very well know what that is I want: That I and all the world should like +you, as well as I love you. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXV + +LONDON, April 30, O. S. 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: ‘Avoir du monde’ is, in my opinion, a very just and happy +expression for having address, manners, and for knowing how to behave +properly in all companies; and it implies very truly that a man who hath +not those accomplishments is not of the world. Without them, the best +parts are inefficient, civility is absurd, and freedom offensive. A +learned parson, rusting in his cell, at Oxford or Cambridge, will season +admirably well upon the nature of man; will profoundly analyze the head, +the heart, the reason, the will, the passions, the senses, the +sentiments, and all those subdivisions of we know not what; and yet, +unfortunately, he knows nothing of man, for he hath not lived with him; +and is ignorant of all the various modes, habits, prejudices, and tastes, +that always influence and often determine him. He views man as he does +colors in Sir Isaac Newton’s prism, where only the capital ones are seen; +but an experienced dyer knows all their various shades and gradations, +together with the result of their several mixtures. Few men are of one +plain, decided color; most are mixed, shaded, and blended; and vary as +much, from different situations, as changeable silks do form different +lights. The man ‘qui a du monde’ knows all this from his own experience +and observation: the conceited, cloistered philosopher knows nothing of +it from his own theory; his practice is absurd and improper, and he acts +as awkwardly as a man would dance, who had never seen others dance, nor +learned of a dancing-master; but who had only studied the notes by which +dances are now pricked down as well as tunes. Observe and imitate, then, +the address, the arts, and the manners of those ‘qui ont du monde’: see +by what methods they first make, and afterward improve impressions in +their favor. Those impressions are much oftener owing to little causes +than to intrinsic merit; which is less volatile, and hath not so sudden +an effect. Strong minds have undoubtedly an ascendant over weak ones, as +Galigai Marachale d’Ancre very justly observed, when, to the disgrace and +reproach of those times, she was executed for having governed Mary of +Medicis by the arts of witchcraft and magic. But then ascendant is to be +gained by degrees, and by those arts only which experience and the +knowledge of the world teaches; for few are mean enough to be bullied, +though most are weak enough to be bubbled. I have often seen people of +superior, governed by people of much inferior parts, without knowing or +even suspecting that they were so governed. This can only happen when +those people of inferior parts have more worldly dexterity and +experience, than those they govern. They see the weak and unguarded part, +and apply to it they take it, and all the rest follows. Would you gain +either men or women, and every man of sense desires to gain both, ‘il +faut du monde’. You have had more opportunities than ever any man had, at +your age, of acquiring ‘ce monde’. You have been in the best companies of +most countries, at an age when others have hardly been in any company at +all. You are master of all those languages, which John Trott seldom +speaks at all, and never well; consequently you need be a stranger +nowhere. This is the way, and the only way, of having ‘du monde’, but if +you have it not, and have still any coarse rusticity about you, may not +one apply to you the ‘rusticus expectat’ of Horace? + +This knowledge of the world teaches us more particularly two things, both +which are of infinite consequence, and to neither of which nature +inclines us; I mean, the command of our temper, and of our countenance. A +man who has no ‘monde’ is inflamed with anger, or annihilated with shame, +at every disagreeable incident: the one makes him act and talk like a +madman, the other makes him look like a fool. But a man who has ‘du +monde’, seems not to understand what he cannot or ought not to resent. If +he makes a slip himself, he recovers it by his coolness, instead of +plunging deeper by his confusion like a stumbling horse. He is firm, but +gentle; and practices that most excellent maxim, ‘suaviter in modo, +fortiter in re’. The other is the ‘volto sciolto a pensieri stretti’. +People unused to the world have babbling countenances; and are unskillful +enough to show what they have sense enough not to tell. In the course of +the world, a man must very often put on an easy, frank countenance, upon +very disagreeable occasions; he must seem pleased when he is very much +otherwise; he must be able to accost and receive with smiles, those whom +he would much rather meet with swords. In courts he must not turn himself +inside out. All this may, nay must be done, without falsehood and +treachery; for it must go no further than politeness and manners, and +must stop short of assurances and professions of simulated friendship. +Good manners, to those one does not love, are no more a breach of truth, +than “your humble servant” at the bottom of a challenge is; they are +universally agreed upon and understood, to be things of course. They are +necessary guards of the decency and peace of society; they must only act +defensively; and then not with arms poisoned by perfidy. Truth, but not +the whole truth, must be the invariable principle of every man, who hath +either religion, honor, or prudence. Those who violate it may be cunning, +but they are not able. Lies and perfidy are the refuge of fools and +cowards. Adieu! + +P. S. I must recommend to you again, to take your leave of all your +French acquaintance, in such a manner as may make them regret your +departure, and wish to see and welcome you at Paris again, where you may +possibly return before it is very long. This must not be done in a cold, +civil manner, but with at least seeming warmth, sentiment, and concern. +Acknowledge the obligations you have to them for the kindness they have +shown you during your stay at Paris: assure them that wherever you are, +you will remember them with gratitude; wish for opportunities of giving +them proofs of your ‘plus tendre et respectueux souvenir; beg of them in +case your good fortune should carry them to any part of the world where +you could be of any the least use to them, that they would employ you +without reserve. Say all this, and a great deal more, emphatically and +pathetically; for you know ‘si vis me flere’. This can do you no harm, if +you never return to Paris; but if you do, as probably you may, it will be +of infinite use to you. Remember too, not to omit going to every house +where you have ever been once, to take leave and recommend yourself to +their remembrance. The reputation which you leave at one place, where you +have been, will circulate, and you will meet with it at twenty places +where you are to go. That is a labor never quite lost. + +This letter will show you, that the accident which happened to me +yesterday, and of which Mr. Grevenkop gives you account, hath had no bad +consequences. My escape was a great one. + + + + +LETTER CLXVI + +LONDON, May 11, O. S. 1752. + +DEAR FRIEND: I break my word by writing this letter; but I break it on +the allowable side, by doing more than I promised. I have pleasure in +writing to you; and you may possibly have some profit in reading what I +write; either of the motives were sufficient for me, both for you I +cannot withstand. By your last I calculate that you will leave Paris upon +this day se’nnight; upon that supposition, this letter may still find you +there. + +Colonel Perry arrived here two or three days ago, and sent me a book from +you; Cassandra abridged. I am sure it cannot be too much abridged. The +spirit of that most voluminous work, fairly extracted, may be contained +in the smallest duodecimo; and it is most astonishing, that there ever +could have been people idle enough to write or read such endless heaps of +the same stuff. It was, however, the occupation of thousands in the last +century, and is still the private, though disavowed, amusement of young +girls, and sentimental ladies. A lovesick girl finds, in the captain with +whom she is in love, all the courage and all the graces of the tender and +accomplished Oroondates: and many a grown-up, sentimental lady, talks +delicate Clelia to the hero, whom she would engage to eternal love, or +laments with her that love is not eternal. + + “Ah! qu’il est doux d’aimer, si Pon aimoit toujours! + Mais helas! il’n’est point d’eternelles amours.” + +It is, however, very well to have read one of those extravagant works (of +all which La Calprenede’s are the best), because it is well to be able to +talk, with some degree of knowledge, upon all those subjects that other +people talk sometimes upon: and I would by no means have anything, that +is known to others, be totally unknown to you. It is a great advantage +for any man, to be able to talk or to hear, neither ignorantly nor +absurdly, upon any subject; for I have known people, who have not said +one word, hear ignorantly and absurdly; it has appeared in their +inattentive and unmeaning faces. + +This, I think, is as little likely to happen to you as to anybody of your +age: and if you will but add a versatility and easy conformity of +manners, I know no company in which you are likely to be de trop. + +This versatility is more particularly necessary for you at this time, now +that you are going to so many different places: for, though the manners +and customs of the several courts of Germany are in general the same, yet +everyone has its particular characteristic; some peculiarity or other, +which distinguishes it from the next. This you should carefully attend +to, and immediately adopt. Nothing flatters people more, nor makes +strangers so welcome, as such an occasional conformity. I do not mean by +this, that you should mimic the air and stiffness of every awkward German +court; no, by no means; but I mean that you should only cheerfully +comply, and fall in with certain local habits, such as ceremonies, diet, +turn of conversation, etc. People who are lately come from Paris, and who +have been a good while there, are generally suspected, and especially in +Germany, of having a degree of contempt for every other place. Take great +care that nothing of this kind appear, at least outwardly, in your +behavior; but commend whatever deserves any degree of commendation, +without comparing it with what you may have left, much better of the same +kind, at Paris. As for instance, the German kitchen is, without doubt, +execrable, and the French delicious; however, never commend the French +kitchen at a German table; but eat of what you can find tolerable there, +and commend it, without comparing it to anything better. I have known +many British Yahoos, who though while they were at Paris conformed to no +one French custom, as soon as they got anywhere else, talked of nothing +but what they did, saw, and eat at Paris. The freedom of the French is +not to be used indiscriminately at all the courts in Germany, though +their easiness may, and ought; but that, too, at some places more than +others. The courts of Manheim and Bonn, I take to be a little more +unbarbarized than some others; that of Mayence, an ecclesiastical one, as +well as that of Treves (neither of which is much frequented by +foreigners), retains, I conceive, a great deal of the Goth and Vandal +still. There, more reserve and ceremony are necessary; and not a word of +the French. At Berlin, you cannot be too French. Hanover, Brunswick, +Cassel, etc., are of the mixed kind, ‘un peu decrottes, mais pas assez’. + +Another thing, which I most earnestly recommend to you, not only in +Germany, but in every part of the world where you may ever be, is not +only real, but seeming attention, to whoever you speak to, or to whoever +speaks to you. There is nothing so brutally shocking, nor so little +forgiven, as a seeming inattention to the person who is speaking to you: +and I have known many a man knocked down, for (in my opinion) a much +lighter provocation, than that shocking inattention which I mean. I have +seen many people, who, while you are speaking to them, instead of looking +at, and attending to you, fix their eyes upon the ceiling or some other +part of the room, look out of the window, play with a dog, twirl their +snuff-box, or pick their nose. Nothing discovers a little, futile, +frivolous mind more than this, and nothing is so offensively ill-bred; it +is an explicit declaration on your part, that every the most trifling +object, deserves your attention more than all that can be said by the +person who is speaking to you. Judge of the sentiments of hatred and +resentment, which such treatment must excite in every breast where any +degree of self-love dwells; and I am sure I never yet met with that +breast where there was not a great deal: I repeat it again and again (for +it is highly necessary for you to remember it), that sort of vanity and +self-love is inseparable from human nature, whatever may be its rank or +condition; even your footmen will sooner forget and forgive a beating, +than any manifest mark of slight and contempt. Be therefore, I beg of +you, not only really, but seemingly and manifestly attentive to whoever +speaks to you; nay, more, take their ‘ton’, and tune yourself to their +unison. Be serious with the serious, gay with the gay, and trifle with +the triflers. In assuming these various shapes, endeavor to make each of +them seem to sit easy upon you, and even to appear to be your own natural +one. This is the true and useful versatility, of which a thorough +knowledge of the world at once teaches the utility and the means of +acquiring. + +I am very sure, at least I hope, that you will never make use of a silly +expression, which is the favorite expression, and the absurd excuse of +all fools and blockheads; I CANNOT DO SUCH A THING; a thing by no means +either morally or physically impossible. I CANNOT attend long together to +the same thing, says one fool; that is, he is such a fool that he will +not. I remember a very awkward fellow, who did not know what to do with +his sword, and who always took it off before dinner, saying that he could +not possibly dine with his sword on; upon which I could not help telling +him, that I really believed he could without any probable danger either +to himself or others. It is a shame and an absurdity, for any man to say +that he cannot do all those things, which are commonly done by all the +rest of mankind. + +Another thing that I must earnestly warn you against is laziness; by +which more people have lost the fruit of their travels than, perhaps, by +any other thing. Pray be always in motion. Early in the morning go and +see things; and the rest of the day go and see people. If you stay but a +week at a place, and that an insignificant one, see, however, all that is +to be seen there; know as many people, and get into as many houses, as +ever you can. + +I recommend to you likewise, though probably you have thought of it +yourself, to carry in your pocket a map of Germany, in which the +postroads are marked; and also some short book of travels through +Germany. The former will help to imprint in your memory situations and +distances; and the latter will point out many things for you to see, that +might otherwise possibly escape you, and which, though they may be in +themselves of little consequence, you would regret not having seen, after +having been at the places where they were. + +Thus warned and provided for your journey, God speed you; ‘Felix +faustumque sit! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXVII + +LONDON, May 27, O. S. 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I send you the inclosed original from a friend of ours, +with my own commentaries upon the text; a text which I have so often +paraphrased, and commented upon already, that I believe I can hardly say +anything new upon it; but, however, I cannot give it over till I am +better convinced, than I yet am, that you feel all the utility, the +importance, and the necessity of it; nay, not only feel, but practice it. +Your panegyrist allows you, what most fathers would be more than +satisified with, in a son, and chides me for not contenting myself with +‘l’essentiellement bon’; but I, who have been in no one respect like +other fathers, cannot neither, like them, content myself with +‘l’essentiellement bon’; because I know that it will not do your business +in the world, while you want ‘quelques couches de vernis’. Few fathers +care much for their sons, or, at least, most of them care more for their +money: and, consequently, content themselves with giving them, at the +cheapest rate, the common run of education: that is, a school till +eighteen; the university till twenty; and a couple of years riding post +through the several towns of Europe; impatient till their boobies come +home to be married, and, as they call it, settled. Of those who really +love their sons, few know how to do it. Some spoil them by fondling them +while they are young, and then quarrel with them when they are grown up, +for having been spoiled; some love them like mothers, and attend only to +the bodily health and strength of the hopes of their family, solemnize +his birthday, and rejoice, like the subjects of the Great Mogul, at the +increase of his bulk; while others, minding, as they think, only +essentials, take pains and pleasure to see in their heir, all their +favorite weaknesses and imperfections. I hope and believe that I have +kept clear of all of these errors in the education which I have given +you. No weaknesses of my own have warped it, no parsimony has starved it, +no rigor has deformed it. Sound and extensive learning was the foundation +which I meant to lay--I have laid it; but that alone, I knew, would by no +means be sufficient: the ornamental, the showish, the pleasing +superstructure was to be begun. In that view, I threw you into the great +world, entirely your own master, at an age when others either guzzle at +the university, or are sent abroad in servitude to some awkward, pedantic +Scotch governor. This was to put you in the way, and the only way of +acquiring those manners, that address, and those graces, which +exclusively distinguish people of fashion; and without which all moral +virtues, and all acquired learning, are of no sort of use in the courts +and ‘le beau monde’: on the contrary, I am not sure if they are not an +hindrance. They are feared and disliked in those places, as too severe, +if not smoothed and introduced by the graces; but of these graces, of +this necessary ‘beau vernis’, it seems there are still ‘quelque couches +qui manquent’. Now, pray let me ask you, coolly and seriously, ‘pourquoi +ces couches manquent-elles’? For you may as easily take them, as you may +wear more or less powder in your hair, more or less lace upon your coat. +I can therefore account for your wanting them no other way in the world, +than from your not being yet convinced of their full value. You have +heard some English bucks say, “Damn these finical outlandish airs, give +me a manly, resolute manner. They make a rout with their graces, and talk +like a parcel of dancing-masters, and dress like a parcel of fops: one +good Englishman will beat three of them.” But let your own observation +undeceive you of these prejudices. I will give you one instance only, +instead of an hundred that I could give you, of a very shining fortune +and figure, raised upon no other foundation whatsoever, than that of +address, manners, and graces. Between you and me (for this example must +go no further), what do you think made our friend, Lord A----e, Colonel +of a regiment of guards, Governor of Virginia, Groom of the Stole, and +Ambassador to Paris; amounting in all to sixteen or seventeen thousand +pounds a year? Was it his birth? No, a Dutch gentleman only. Was it his +estate? No, he had none. Was it his learning, his parts, his political +abilities and application? You can answer these questions as easily, and +as soon, as I can ask them. What was it then? Many people wondered, but I +do not; for I know, and will tell you. It was his air, his address, his +manners, and his graces. He pleased, and by pleasing he became a +favorite; and by becoming a favorite became all that he has been since. +Show me any one instance, where intrinsic worth and merit, unassisted by +exterior accomplishments, have raised any man so high. You know the Due +de Richelieu, now ‘Marechal, Cordon bleu, Gentilhomme de la Chambre’, +twice Ambassador, etc. By what means? Not by the purity of his character, +the depth of his knowledge, or any uncommon penetration and sagacity. +Women alone formed and raised him. The Duchess of Burgundy took a fancy +to him, and had him before he was sixteen years old; this put him in +fashion among the beau monde: and the late Regent’s oldest daughter, now +Madame de Modene, took him next, and was near marrying him. These early +connections with women of the first distinction gave him those manners, +graces, and address, which you see he has; and which, I can assure you, +are all that he has; for, strip him of them, and he will be one of the +poorest men in Europe. Man or woman cannot resist an engaging exterior; +it will please, it will make its way. You want, it seems, but ‘quelques +couches’; for God’s sake, lose no time in getting them; and now you have +gone so far, complete the work. Think of nothing else till that work is +finished; unwearied application will bring about anything: and surely +your application can never be so well employed as upon that object, which +is absolutely necessary to facilitate all others. With your knowledge and +parts, if adorned by manners and graces, what may you not hope one day to +be? But without them, you will be in the situation of a man who should be +very fleet of one leg but very lame of the other. He could not run; the +lame leg would check and clog the well one, which would be very near +useless. + +From my original plan for your education, I meant to make you ‘un homme +universel’; what depends on me is executed, the little that remains +undone depends singly upon you. Do not then disappoint, when you can so +easily gratify me. It is your own interest which I am pressing you to +pursue, and it is the only return that I desire for all the care and +affection of, Yours. + + + + +LETTER CLXVIII + +LONDON, May 31, O. S. 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The world is the book, and the only one to which, at +present, I would have you apply yourself; and the thorough knowledge of +it will be of more use to you, than all the books that ever were read. +Lay aside the best book whenever you can go into the best company; and +depend upon it, you change for the better. However, as the most +tumultuous life, whether of business or pleasure, leaves some vacant +moments every day, in which a book is the refuge of a rational being, I +mean now to point out to you the method of employing those moments (which +will and ought to be but few) in the most advantageous manner. Throw away +none of your time upon those trivial, futile books, published by idle or +necessitous authors, for the amusement of idle and ignorant readers; such +sort of books swarm and buzz about one every day; flap them away, they +have no sting. ‘Certum pete finem’, have some one object for those +leisure moments, and pursue that object invariably till you have attained +it; and then take some other. For instance, considering your destination, +I would advise you to single out the most remarkable and interesting eras +of modern history, and confine all your reading to that ERA. If you pitch +upon the Treaty of Munster (and that is the proper period to begin with, +in the course which I am now recommending), do not interrupt it by +dipping and deviating into other books, unrelative to it; but consult +only the most authentic histories, letters, memoirs, and negotiations, +relative to that great transaction; reading and comparing them, with all +that caution and distrust which Lord Bolingbroke recommends to you, in a +better manner, and in better words than I can. The next period worth your +particular knowledge, is the Treaty of the Pyrenees: which was calculated +to lay, and in effect did lay, the succession of the House of Bourbon to +the crown of Spain. Pursue that in the same manner, singling, out of the +millions of volumes written upon that occasion, the two or three most +authentic ones, and particularly letters, which are the best authorities +in matters of negotiation. Next come the Treaties of Nimeguen and +Ryswick, postscripts in, a manner to those of Munster and the Pyrenees. +Those two transactions have had great light thrown upon them by the +publication of many authentic and original letters and pieces. The +concessions made at the Treaty of Ryswick, by the then triumphant Lewis +the Fourteenth, astonished all those who viewed things only +superficially; but, I should think, must have been easily accounted for +by those who knew the state of the kingdom of Spain, as well as of the +health of its King, Charles the Second, at that time. The interval +between the conclusion of the peace of Ryswick, and the breaking out of +the great war in 1702, though a short, is a most interesting one. Every +week of it almost produced some great event. Two partition treaties, the +death of the King of Spain, his unexpected will, and the acceptance of it +by Lewis the Fourteenth, in violation of the second treaty of partition, +just signed and ratified by him. Philip the Fifth quietly and cheerfully +received in Spain, and acknowledged as King of it, by most of those +powers, who afterward joined in an alliance to dethrone him. I cannot +help making this observation upon that occasion: That character has often +more to do in great transactions, than prudence and sound policy; for +Lewis the Fourteenth gratified his personal pride, by giving a Bourbon +King to Spain, at the expense of the true interest of France; which would +have acquired much more solid and permanent strength by the addition of +Naples, Sicily, and Lorraine, upon the footing of the second partition +treaty; and I think it was fortunate for Europe that he preferred the +will. It is true, he might hope to influence his Bourbon posterity in +Spain; he knew too well how weak the ties of blood are among men, and how +much weaker still they are among princes. The Memoirs of Count Harrach, +and of Las Torres, give a good deal of light into the transactions of the +Court of Spain, previous to the death of that weak King; and the Letters +of the Marachal d’Harcourt, then the French Ambassador in Spain, of which +I have authentic copies in manuscript, from the year 1698 to 1701, have +cleared up that whole affair to me. I keep that book for you. It appears +by those letters, that the impudent conduct of the House of Austria, with +regard to the King and Queen of Spain, and Madame Berlips, her favorite, +together with the knowledge of the partition treaty, which incensed all +Spain, were the true and only reasons of the will, in favor of the Duke +of Anjou. Cardinal Portocarrero, nor any of the Grandees, were bribed by +France, as was generally reported and believed at that time; which +confirms Voltaire’s anecdote upon that subject. Then opens a new scene +and a new century; Lewis the Fourteenth’s good fortune forsakes him, till +the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene make him amends for all the +mischief they had done him, by making the allies refuse the terms of +peace offered by him at Gertruydenberg. How the disadvantageous peace of +Utrecht was afterward brought on, you have lately read; and you cannot +inform yourself too minutely of all those circumstances, that treaty +‘being the freshest source from whence the late transactions of Europe +have flowed. The alterations that have since happened, whether by wars or +treaties, are so recent, that all the written accounts are to be helped +out, proved, or contradicted, by the oral ones of almost every informed +person, of a certain age or rank in life. For the facts, dates, and +original pieces of this century, you will find them in Lamberti, till the +year 1715, and after that time in Rousset’s ‘Recueil’. + +I do not mean that you should plod hours together in researches of this +kind: no, you may employ your time more usefully: but I mean, that you +should make the most of the moments you do employ, by method, and the +pursuit of one single object at a time; nor should I call it a digression +from that object, if when you meet with clashing and jarring pretensions +of different princes to the same thing, you had immediately recourse to +other books, in which those several pretensions were clearly stated; on +the contrary, that is the only way of remembering those contested rights +and claims: for, were a man to read ‘tout de suite’, Schwederus’s +‘Theatrum Pretensionum’, he would only be confounded by the variety, and +remember none of them; whereas, by examining them occasionally, as they +happen to occur, either in the course of your historical reading, or as +they are agitated in your own times, you will retain them, by connecting +them with those historical facts which occasioned your inquiry. For +example, had you read, in the course of two or three folios of +Pretensions, those, among others, of the two Kings of England and Prussia +to Oost Frise, it is impossible, that you should have remembered them; +but now, that they are become the debated object at the Diet at Ratisbon, +and the topic of all political conversations, if you consult both books +and persons concerning them, and inform yourself thoroughly, you will +never forget them as long as you live. You will hear a great deal of them +ow one side, at Hanover, and as much on the other side, afterward, at +Berlin: hear both sides, and form your own opinion; but dispute with +neither. + +Letters from foreign ministers to their courts, and from their courts to +them, are, if genuine, the best and most authentic records you can read, +as far as they go. Cardinal d’Ossat’s, President Jeanin’s, D’Estrade’s, +Sir William Temple’s, will not only inform your mind, but form your +style; which, in letters of business, should be very plain and simple, +but, at the same time, exceedingly clear, correct, and pure. + +All that I have said may be reduced to these two or three plain +principles: 1st, That you should now read very little, but converse a +great deal; 2d, To read no useless, unprofitable books; and 3d, That +those which you do read, may all tend to a certain object, and be +relative to, and consequential of each other. In this method, half an +hour’s reading every day will carry you a great way. People seldom know +how to employ their time to the best advantage till they have too little +left to employ; but if, at your age, in the beginning of life, people +would but consider the value of it, and put every moment to interest, it +is incredible what an additional fund of knowledge and pleasure such an +economy would bring in. I look back with regret upon that large sum of +time, which, in my youth, I lavished away idly, without either +improvement or pleasure. Take warning betimes, and enjoy every moment; +pleasures do not commonly last so long as life, and therefore should not +be neglected; and the longest life is too short for knowledge, +consequently every moment is precious. + +I am surprised at having received no letter from you since you left +Paris. I still direct this to Strasburgh, as I did my two last. I shall +direct my next to the post house at Mayence, unless I receive, in the +meantime, contrary instructions from you. Adieu. Remember les attentions: +they must be your passports into good company. + + + + +LETTER CLXIX + +LONDON, June, O. S. 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Very few celebrated negotiators have been eminent for +their learning. The most famous French negotiators (and I know no nation +that can boast of abler) have been military men, as Monsieur d’Harcourt, +Comte d’Estrades, Marechal d’Uxelles, and others. The late Duke of +Marlborough, who was at least as able a negotiator as a general, was +exceedingly ignorant of books, but extremely knowing in men, whereas the +learned Grotius appeared, both in Sweden and in France, to be a very +bungling minister. This is, in my opinion, very easily to be accounted +for. A man of very deep learning must have employed the greatest part of +his time in books; and a skillful negotiator must necessarily have +employed much the greater part of his time with man. The sound scholar, +when dragged out of his dusty closet into business, acts by book, and +deals with men as he has read of them; not as he has known them by +experience: he follows Spartan and Roman precedents, in what he falsely +imagines to be similar cases; whereas two cases never were, since the +beginning of the world, exactly alike; and he would be capable, where he +thought spirit and vigor necessary, to draw a circle round the persons he +treated with, and to insist upon a categorical answer before they went +out of it, because he had read, in the Roman history, that once upon a +time some Roman ambassador, did so. No; a certain degree of learning may +help, but no degree of learning will ever make a skillful minister +whereas a great knowledge of the world, of the characters, passions, and +habits of mankind, has, without one grain of learning, made a thousand. +Military men have seldom much knowledge of books; their education does +not allow it; but what makes great amends for that want is, that they +generally know a great deal of the world; they are thrown into it young; +they see variety of nations and characters; and they soon find, that to +rise, which is the aim of them all, they must first please: these +concurrent causes almost always give them manners and politeness. In +consequence of which, you see them always distinguished at courts, and +favored by the women. I could wish that you had been of an age to have +made a campaign or two as a volunteer. It would have given you an +attention, a versatility, and an alertness; all which I doubt you want; +and a great want it is. + +A foreign minister has not great business to transact every day; so that +his knowledge and his skill in negotiating are not frequently put to the +trial; but he has that to do every day, and every hour of the day, which +is necessary to prepare and smooth the way for his business; that is, to +insinuate himself by his manners, not only into the houses, but into the +confidence of the most considerable people of that place; to contribute +to their pleasures, and insensibly not to be looked upon as a stranger +himself. A skillful minister may very possibly be doing his master’s +business full as well, in doing the honors gracefully and genteelly of a +ball or a supper, as if he were laboriously writing a protocol in his +closet. The Marechal d’Harcourt, by his magnificence, his manners, and +his politeness, blunted the edge of the long aversion which the Spaniards +had to the French. The court and the grandees were personally fond, of +him, and frequented his house; and were at least insensibly brought to +prefer a French to a German yoke; which I am convinced would never have +happened, had Comte d’Harrach been Marechal d’Harcourt, or the Marechal +d’Harcourt Comte d’Harrach. The Comte d’Estrades had, by ‘ses manieres +polies et liantes’, formed such connections, and gained such an interest +in the republic of the United Provinces, that Monsieur De Witt, the then +Pensionary of Holland, often applied to him to use his interest with his +friend, both in Holland and the other provinces, whenever he (De Witt) +had a difficult point which he wanted to carry. This was certainly not +brought about by his knowledge of books, but of men: dancing, fencing, +and riding, with a little military architecture, were no doubt the top of +his education; and if he knew that ‘collegium’ in Latin signified college +in French, it must have been by accident. But he knew what was more +useful: from thirteen years old he had been in the great world, and had +read men and women so long, that he could then read them at sight. + +Talking the other day, upon this and other subjects, all relative to you, +with one who knows and loves you very well, and expressing my anxiety and +wishes that your exterior accomplishments, as a man of fashion, might +adorn, and at least equal your intrinsic merit as a man of sense and +honor, the person interrupted me, and said: Set your heart at rest; that +never will or can happen. It is not in character; that gentleness, that +‘douceur’, those attentions which you wish him to have, are not in his +nature; and do what you will, nay, let him do what he will, he can never +acquire them. Nature may be a little disguised and altered by care; but +can by no means whatsoever be totally forced and changed. I denied this +principle to a certain degree; but admitting, however, that in many +respects our nature was not to be changed; and asserting, at the same +time, that in others it might by care be very much altered and improved, +so as in truth to be changed; that I took those exterior accomplishments, +which we had been talking of, to be mere modes, and absolutely depending +upon the will, and upon custom; and that, therefore, I was convinced that +your good sense, which must show you the importance of them, would make +you resolve at all events to acquire them, even in spite of nature, if +nature be in the case. Our dispute, which lasted a great while, ended as +Voltaire observes that disputes in England are apt to do, in a wager of +fifty guineas; which I myself am to decide upon honor, and of which this +is a faithful copy. If you think I shall win it, you may go my halves if +you please; declare yourself in time. This I declare, that I would most +cheerfully give a thousand guineas to win those fifty; you may secure +them me if you please. + +I grow very impatient for your future letters from the several courts of +Manheim, Bonn, Hanover, etc. And I desire that your letters may be to me, +what I do not desire they should be to anybody else, I mean full of +yourself. Let the egotism, a figure which upon all other occasions I +detest, be your only one to me. Trifles that concern you are not trifles +to me; and my knowledge of them may possibly be useful to you. Adieu. +‘Les graces, les graces, les graces’. + + + + +LETTER CLXX + +LONDON, June 23, O. S. 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I direct this letter to Mayence, where I think it is +likely to meet you, supposing, as I do, that you stayed three weeks at +Manheim, after the date of your last from thence; but should you have +stayed longer at Manheim, to which I have no objection, it will wait for +you at Mayence. Mayence will not, I believe, have charms to detain you +above a week; so that I reckon you will be at Bonn at the end of July, N. +S. There you may stay just as little or as long as you please, and then +proceed to Hanover. + +I had a letter by the last post from a relation of mine at Hanover, Mr. +Stanhope Aspinwall, who is in the Duke of Newcastle’s office, and has +lately been appointed the King’s Minister to the Dey of Algiers; a post +which, notwithstanding your views of foreign affairs, I believe you do +not envy him. He tells me in that letter, there are very good lodgings to +be had at one Mrs. Meyers’s, the next door to the Duke of Newcastle’s, +which he offers to take for you; I have desired him to do it, in case +Mrs. Meyers will wait for you till the latter end of August, or the +beginning of September, N. S., which I suppose is about the time when you +will be at Hanover. You will find this Mr. Aspinwall of great use to you +there. He will exert himself to the utmost to serve you; he has been +twice or thrice at Hanover, and knows all the allures there: he is very +well with the Duke of Newcastle, and will puff you there. Moreover, if +you have a mind to work there as a volunteer in that bureau, he will +assist and inform you. In short, he is a very honest, sensible, and +informed man; ‘mais me paye pas beaucoup de sa figure; il abuse meme du +privilege qu’ont les hommes d’etre laids; et il ne sera pas en reste avec +les lions et les leopards qu’il trouvera a Alger’. + +As you are entirely master of the time when you will leave Bonn and go to +Hanover, so are you master to stay at Hanover as long as you please, and +to go from thence where you please; provided that at Christmas you are at +Berlin, for the beginning of the Carnival: this I would not have you say +at Hanover, considering the mutual disposition of those two courts; but +when anybody asks you where you are to go next, say that you propose +rambling in Germany, at Brunswick, Cassel, etc., till the next spring; +when you intend to be in Flanders, in your way to England. I take Berlin, +at this time, to be the politest, the most shining, and the most useful +court in Europe for a young fellow to be at: and therefore I would upon +no account not have you there, for at least a couple of months of the +Carnival. If you are as well received, and pass your time as well at Bonn +as I believe you will, I would advise you to remain there till about the +20th of August, N. S., in four days you will be at Hanover. As for your +stay there, it must be shorter or longer, according to certain +circumstances WHICH YOU KNOW OF; supposing them, at the best, then, stay +within a week or ten days of the King’s return to England; but supposing +them at the worst, your stay must not be too short, for reasons which you +also know; no resentment must either appear or be suspected; therefore, +at worst, I think you must remain there a month, and at best, as long as +ever you please. But I am convinced that all will turn out very well for +you there. Everybody is engaged or inclined to help you; the ministers, +English and German, the principal ladies, and most of the foreign +ministers; so that I may apply to you, ‘nullum numen abest, si sit +prudentia’. Du Perron will, I believe, be back there from Turin much +about the time you get there: pray be very attentive to him, and connect +yourself with him as much as ever you can; for, besides that he is a very +pretty and well-informed man, he is very much in fashion at Hanover, is +personally very well with the King and certain ladies; so that a visible +intimacy and connection with him will do you credit and service. Pray +cultivate Monsieur Hop, the Dutch minister, who has always been very much +my friend, and will, I am sure, be yours; his manners, it is true, are +not very engaging; he is rough, but he is sincere. It is very useful +sometimes to see the things which one ought to avoid, as it is right to +see very often those which one ought to imitate, and my friend Hop’s +manners will frequently point out to you, what yours ought to be by the +rule of contraries. + +Congreve points out a sort of critics, to whom he says that we are doubly +obliged:-- + + “Rules for good writing they with pains indite, + Then show us what is bad, by what they write.” + +It is certain that Monsieur Hop, with the best heart in the world, and a +thousand good qualities, has a thousand enemies, and hardly a friend; +simply from the roughness of his manners. + +N. B. I heartily wish you could have stayed long enough at Manheim to +have been seriously and desperately in love with Madame de Taxis; who, I +suppose, is a proud, insolent, fine lady, and who would consequently have +expected attentions little short of adoration: nothing would do you more +good than such a passion; and I live in hopes that somebody or other will +be able to excite such an one in you; your hour may not yet be come, but +it will come. Love has not been unaptly compared to the smallpox which +most people have sooner or later. Iphigenia had a wonderful effect upon +Cimon; I wish some Hanover Iphigenia may try her skill upon you. + +I recommend to you again, though I have already done it twice or thrice, +to speak German, even affectedly, while you are at Hanover; which will +show that you prefer that language, and be of more use to you there with +SOMEBODY, than you can imagine. When you carry my letters to Monsieur +Munchausen and Monsieur Schwiegeldt, address yourself to them in German; +the latter speaks French very well, but the former extremely ill. Show +great attention to Madame, Munchausen’s daughter, who is a great +favorite; those little trifles please mothers, and sometimes fathers, +extremely. Observe, and you will find, almost universally, that the least +things either please or displease most; because they necessarily imply, +either a very strong desire of obliging, or an unpardonable indifference +about it. I will give you a ridiculous instance enough of this truth, +from my own experience. When I was Ambassador the first time in Holland, +Comte de Wassenaer and his wife, people of the first rank and +consideration, had a little boy of about three years old, of whom they +were exceedingly fond; in order to make my court to them, I was so too, +and used to take the child often upon my lap, and play with him. One day +his nose was very dirty, upon which I took out my handkerchief and wiped +it for him; this raised a loud laugh, and they called me a very, handy +nurse; but the father and mother were so pleased with it, that to this +day it is an anecdote in the family, and I never receive a letter from +Comte Wassenaer, but he makes me the compliments ‘du morveux gue j’ai +mouche autrefois’; who, by the way, I am assured, is now the prettiest +young fellow in Holland. Where one would gain people, remember that +nothing is little. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXXI + +LONDON, June 26, O. S. 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: As I have reason to fear, from your M last letter of the +18th, N. S., from Manheim, that all, or at least most of my letters to +you, since you left Paris, have miscarried; I think it requisite, at all +events, to repeat in this the necessary parts of those several letters, +as far as they relate to your future motions. + +I suppose that this will either find you, or be but a few days before you +at Bonn, where it is directed; and I suppose too, that you have fixed +your time for going from thence to Hanover. If things TURN OUT WELL AT +HANOVER, as in my opinion they will, ‘Chi sta bene non si muova’, stay +there till a week or ten days before the King sets out for England; but, +should THEY TURN OUT ILL, which I cannot imagine, stay, however, a month, +that your departure may not seem a step of discontent or peevishness; the +very suspicion of which is by all means to be avoided. Whenever you leave +Hanover, be it sooner or be it later, where would you go? ‘Lei Padrone’, +and I give you your choice: would you pass the months of November and +December at Brunswick, Cassel, etc.? Would you choose to go for a couple +of months to Ratisbon, where you would be very well recommended to, and +treated by the King’s Electoral Minister, the Baron de Behr, and where +you would improve your ‘Jus publicum’? or would you rather go directly to +Berlin, and stay there till the end of the Carnival? Two or three months +at Berlin are, considering all circumstances, necessary for you; and the +Carnival months are the best; ‘pour le reste decidez en dernier ressort, +et sans appel comme d’abus’. Let me know your decree, when you have +formed it. Your good or ill success at Hanover will have a very great +influence upon your subsequent character, figure, and fortune in the +world; therefore I confess that I am more anxious about it, than ever +bride was on her wedding night, when wishes, hopes, fears, and doubts, +tumultuously agitate, please, and terrify her. It is your first crisis: +the character which you will acquire there will, more or less, be that +which will abide by you for the rest of your life. You will be tried and +judged there, not as a boy, but as a man; and from that moment there is +no appeal for character; it is fixed. To form that character +advantageously, you have three objects particularly to attend to: your +character as a man of morality, truth, and honor; your knowledge in the +objects of your destination, as a man of business; and your engaging and +insinuating address, air and manners, as a courtier; the sure and only +steps to favor. + +Merit at courts, without favor, will do little or nothing; favor, without +merit, will do a good deal; but favor and merit together will do +everything. Favor at courts depends upon so many, such trifling, such +unexpected, and unforeseen events, that a good courtier must attend to +every circumstance, however little, that either does, or can happen; he +must have no absences, no DISTRACTIONS; he must not say, “I did not mind +it; who would have thought it?” He ought both to have minded, and to have +thought it. A chamber-maid has sometimes caused revolutions in courts +which have produced others in kingdoms. Were I to make my way to favor in +a court, I would neither willfully, nor by negligence, give a dog or a +cat there reason to dislike me. Two ‘pies grieches’, well instructed, you +know, made the fortune of De Luines with Lewis XIII. Every step a man +makes at court requires as much attention and circumspection, as those +which were made formerly between hot plowshares, in the Ordeal, or fiery +trials; which, in those times of ignorance and superstition, were looked +upon as demonstrations of innocence or guilt. Direct your principal +battery, at Hanover, at the D of N ‘s: there are many very weak places in +that citadel; where, with a very little skill, you cannot fail making a +great impression. Ask for his orders in everything you do; talk Austrian +and Anti-gallican to him; and, as soon as you are upon a foot of talking +easily to him, tell him ‘en badinant’, that his skill and success in +thirty or forty elections in England leave you no reason to doubt of his +carrying his election for Frankfort; and that you look upon the Archduke +as his Member for the Empire. In his hours of festivity and compotation, +drop that he puts you in mind of what Sir William Temple says of the +Pensionary De Witt,--who at that time governed half Europe,--that he +appeared at balls, assemblies, and public places, as if he had nothing +else to do or to think of. When he talks to you upon foreign affairs, +which he will often do, say that you really cannot presume to give any +opinion of your own upon those matters, looking upon yourself at present +only as a postscript to the corps diplomatique; but that, if his Grace +will be pleased to make you an additional volume to it, though but in +duodecimo, you will do your best that he shall neither be ashamed nor +repent of it. He loves to have a favorite, and to open himself to that +favorite. He has now no such person with him; the place is vacant, and if +you have dexterity you may fill it. In one thing alone do not humor him; +I mean drinking; for, as I believe, you have never yet been drunk, you do +not yourself know how you can bear your wine, and what a little too much +of it may make you do or say; you might possibly kick down all you had +done before. + +You do not love gaming, and I thank God for it; but at Hanover I would +have you show, and profess a particular dislike to play, so as to decline +it upon all occasions, unless where one may be wanted to make a fourth at +whist or quadrille; and then take care to declare it the result of your +complaisance, not of your inclinations. Without such precaution you may +very possibly be suspected, though unjustly, of loving play, upon account +of my former passion for it; and such a suspicion would do you a great +deal of hurt, especially with the King, who detests gaming. I must end +this abruptly. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CLXXII + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Versatility as a courtier may be almost decisive to you +hereafter; that is, it may conduce to, or retard your preferment in your +own destination. The first reputation goes a great way; and if you fix a +good one at Hanover, it will operate also to your advantage in England. +The trade of a courtier is as much a trade as that of a shoemaker; and he +who applies himself the most, will work the best: the only difficulty is +to distinguish (what I am sure you have sense enough to distinguish) +between the right and proper qualifications and their kindred faults; for +there is but a line between every perfection and its neighboring +imperfection. As, for example, you must be extremely well-bred and +polite, but without the troublesome forms and stiffness of ceremony. You +must be respectful and assenting, but without being servile and abject. +You must be frank, but without indiscretion; and close, without being +costive. You must keep up dignity of character, without the least pride +of birth or rank. You must be gay within all the bounds of decency and +respect; and grave without the affectation of wisdom, which does not +become the age of twenty. You must be essentially secret, without being +dark and mysterious. You must be firm, and even bold, but with great +seeming modesty. + +With these qualifications, which, by the way, are all in your own power, +I will answer for your success, not only at Hanover, but at any court in +Europe. And I am not sorry that you begin your apprenticeship at a little +one; because you must be more circumspect, and more upon your guard +there, than at a great one, where every little thing is not known nor +reported. + +When you write to me, or to anybody else, from thence, take care that +your letters contain commendations of all that you see and hear there; +for they will most of them be opened and read; but, as frequent couriers +will come from Hanover to England, you may sometimes write to me without +reserve; and put your letters into a very little box, which you may send +safely by some of them. + +I must not omit mentioning to you, that at the Duke of Newcastle’s table, +where you will frequently dine, there is a great deal of drinking; be +upon your guard against it, both upon account of your health, which would +not bear it, and of the consequences of your being flustered and heated +with wine: it might engage you in scrapes and frolics, which the King +(who is a very sober man himself) detests. On the other hand, you should +not seem too grave and too wise to drink like the rest of the company; +therefore use art: mix water with your wine; do not drink all that is in +the glass; and if detected, and pressed to drink more do not cry out +sobriety; but say that you have lately been out of order, that you are +subject to inflammatory complaints, and that you must beg to be excused +for the present. A young fellow ought to be wiser than he should seem to +be; and an old fellow ought to seem wise whether he really’ be so or not. + +During your stay at Hanover I would have you make two or three excursions +to parts of that Electorate: the Hartz, where the silver mines are; +Gottingen, for the University; Stade, for what commerce there is. You +should also go to Zell. In short, see everything that is to be seen +there, and inform yourself well of all the details of that country. Go to +Hamburg for three or four days, and know the constitution of that little +Hanseatic Republic, and inform yourself well of the nature of the King of +Denmark’s pretensions to it. + +If all things turn out right for you at Hanover, I would have you make it +your head-quarters, till about a week or ten days before the King leaves +it; and then go to Brunswick, which, though a little, is a very polite, +pretty court. You may stay there a fortnight or three weeks, as you like +it; and from thence go to Cassel, and stay there till you go to Berlin; +where I would have you be by Christmas. At Hanover you will very easily +get good letters of recommendation to Brunswick and to Cassel. You do not +want any to Berlin; however, I will send you one for Voltaire. ‘A propos’ +of Berlin, be very reserved and cautious while at Hanover, as to that +King and that country; both which are detested, because feared by +everybody there, from his Majesty down to the meanest peasant; but, +however, they both extremely deserve your utmost attention and you will +see the arts and wisdom of government better in that country, now, than +in any other in Europe. You may stay three months at Berlin, if you like +it, as I believe you will; and after that I hope we shall meet there +again. + +Of all the places in the world (I repeat it once more), establish a good +reputation at Hanover, ‘et faites vous valoir la, autant qu’il est +possible, par le brillant, les manieres, et les graces’. Indeed it is of +the greatest importance to you, and will make any future application to +the King in your behalf very easy. He is more taken by those little +things, than any man, or even woman, that I ever knew in my life: and I +do not wonder at him. In short, exert to the utmost all your means and +powers to please: and remember that he who pleases the most, will rise +the soonest and the highest. Try but once the pleasure and advantage of +pleasing, and I will answer that you will never more neglect the means. + +I send you herewith two letters, the one to Monsieur Munchausen, the +other to Monsieur Schweigeldt, an old friend of mine, and a very sensible +knowing man. They will both I am sure, be extremely civil to you, and +carry you into the best company; and then it is your business to please +that company. I never was more anxious about any period of your life, +than I am about this, your Hanover expedition, it being of so much more +consequence to you than any other. If I hear from thence, that you are +liked and loved there, for your air, your manners, and address, as well +as esteemed for your knowledge, I shall be the happiest man in the world. +Judge then what I must be, if it happens otherwise. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXXIII + +LONDON, July 21, O. S. 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: By my calculation this letter may probably arrive at +Hanover three or four days before you; and as I am sure of its arriving +there safe, it shall contain the most material points that I have +mentioned in my several letters to you since you left Paris, as if you +had received but few of them, which may very probably be the case. + +As for your stay at Hanover, it must not IN ALL EVENTS be less than a +month; but if things turn out to Your SATISFACTION, it may be just as +long as you please. From thence you may go wherever you like; for I have +so good an opinion of your judgment, that I think you will combine and +weigh all circumstances, and choose the properest places. Would you +saunter at some of the small courts, as Brunswick, Cassel, etc., till the +Carnival at Berlin? You are master. Would you pass a couple of months at +Ratisbon, which might not be ill employed? ‘A la bonne heure’. Would you +go to Brussels, stay a month or two there with Dayrolles, and from thence +to Mr. Yorke, at The Hague? With all my heart. Or, lastly, would you go +to Copenhagen and Stockholm? ‘Lei e anche Padrone’: choose entirely for +yourself, without any further instructions from me; only let me know your +determination in time, that I may settle your credit, in case you go to +places where at present you have none. Your object should be to see the +‘mores multorum hominum et urbes’; begin and end it where you please. + +By what you have already seen of the German courts, I am sure you must +have observed that they are much more nice and scrupulous, in points of +ceremony, respect and attention, than the greater courts of France and +England. You will, therefore, I am persuaded, attend to the minutest +circumstances of address and behavior, particularly during your stay at +Hanover, which (I will repeat it, though I have said it often to you +already) is the most important preliminary period of your whole life. +Nobody in the world is more exact, in all points of good-breeding, than +the King; and it is the part of every man’s character, that he informs +himself of first. The least negligence, or the slightest inattention, +reported to him, may do you infinite prejudice: as their contraries would +service. + +If Lord Albemarle (as I believe he did) trusted you with the secret +affairs of his department, let the Duke of Newcastle know that he did so; +which will be an inducement to him to trust you too, and possibly to +employ you in affairs of consequence. Tell him that, though you are +young, you know the importance of secrecy in business, and can keep a +secret; that I have always inculcated this doctrine into you, and have, +moreover, strictly forbidden you ever to communicate, even to me, any +matters of a secret nature, which you may happen to be trusted with in +the course of business. + +As for business, I think I can trust you to yourself; but I wish I could +say as much for you with regard to those exterior accomplishments, which +are absolutely necessary to smooth and shorten the way to it. Half the +business is done, when one has gained the heart and the affections of +those with whom one is to transact it. Air and address must begin, +manners and attention must finish that work. I will let you into one +secret concerning myself; which is, that I owe much more of the success +which I have had in the world to my manners, than to any superior degree +of merit or knowledge. I desired to please, and I neglected none of the +means. This, I can assure you, without any false modesty, is the truth: +You have more knowledge than I had at your age, but then I had much more +attention and good-breeding than you. Call it vanity, if you please, and +possibly it was so; but my great object was to make every man I met with +like me, and every woman love me. I often succeeded; but why? By taking +great pains, for otherwise I never should: my figure by no means entitled +me to it; and I had certainly an up-hill game; whereas your countenance +would help you, if you made the most of it, and proscribed for ever the +guilty, gloomy, and funereal part of it. Dress, address, and air, would +become your best countenance, and make your little figure pass very well. + +If you have time to read at Hanover, pray let the books you read be all +relative to the history and constitution of that country; which I would +have you know as correctly as any Hanoverian in the whole Electorate. +Inform yourself of the powers of the States, and of the nature and extent +of the several judicatures; the particular articles of trade and commerce +of Bremen, Harburg, and Stade; the details and value of the mines of the +Hartz. Two or three short books will give you the outlines of all these +things; and conversation turned upon those subjects will do the rest, and +better than books can. + +Remember of all things to speak nothing but German there; make it (to +express myself pedantically) your vernacular language; seem to prefer it +to any other; call it your favorite language, and study to speak it with +purity and elegance, if it has any. This will not only make you perfect +in it, but will please, and make your court there better than anything. A +propos of languages: Did you improve your Italian while you were at +Paris, or did you forget it? Had you a master there? and what Italian +books did you read with him? If you are master of Italian, I would have +you afterward, by the first convenient opportunity, learn Spanish, which +you may very easily, and in a very little time do; you will then, in the +course of your foreign business, never be obliged to employ, pay, or +trust any translator for any European language. + +As I love to provide eventually for everything that can possibly happen, +I will suppose the worst that can befall you at Hanover. In that case I +would have you go immediately to the Duke of Newcastle, and beg his +Grace’s advice, or rather orders, what you should do; adding, that his +advice will always be orders to you. You will tell him that though you +are exceedingly mortified, you are much less so than you should otherwise +be, from the consideration that being utterly unknown to his M-----, his +objection could not be personal to you, and could only arise from +circumstances which it was not in your power either to prevent or remedy; +that if his Grace thought that your continuing any longer there would be +disagreeable, you entreated him to tell you so; and that upon the whole, +you referred yourself entirely to him, whose orders you should most +scrupulously obey. But this precaution, I dare say, is ‘ex abundanti’, +and will prove unnecessary; however, it is always right to be prepared +for all events, the worst as well as the best; it prevents hurry and +surprise, two dangerous, situations in business; for I know no one thing +so useful, so necessary in all business, as great coolness, steadiness, +and sangfroid: they give an incredible advantage over whoever one has to +do with. + +I have received your letter of the 15th, N. S., from Mayence, where I +find that you have diverted yourself much better than I expected. I am +very well acquainted with Comte Cobentzel’s character, both of parts and +business. He could have given you letters to Bonn, having formerly +resided there himself. You will not be so agreeably ELECTRIFIED where +this letter will find you, as you were both at Manheim and Mayence; but I +hope you may meet with a second German Mrs. F-----d, who may make you +forget the two former ones, and practice your German. Such transient +passions will do you no harm; but, on the contrary, a great deal of good; +they will refine your manners and quicken your attention; they give a +young fellow ‘du brillant’, and bring him into fashion; which last is a +great article at setting out in the world. + +I have wrote, about a month ago, to Lord Albemarle, to thank him for all +his kindnesses to you; but pray have you done as much? Those are the +necessary attentions which should never be omitted, especially in the +beginning of life, when a character is to be established. + +That ready wit; which you so partially allow me, and so justly Sir +Charles Williams, may create many admirers; but, take my word for it, it +makes few friends. It shines and dazzles like the noon-day sun, but, like +that too, is very apt to scorch; and therefore is always feared. The +milder morning and evening light and heat of that planet soothe and calm +our minds. Good sense, complaisance, gentleness of manners, attentions +and graces are the only things that truly engage, and durably keep the +heart at long run. Never seek for wit; if it presents itself, well and +good; but, even in that case, let your judgment interpose; and take care +that it be not at the expense of anybody. Pope says very truly: + + “There are whom heaven has blest with store of wit; + Yet want as much again to govern it.” + +And in another place, I doubt with too much truth: + + “For wit and judgment ever are at strife + Though meant each other’s aid, like man and wife.” + +The Germans are very seldom troubled with any extraordinary ebullitions +or effervescenses of wit, and it is not prudent to try it upon them; +whoever does, ‘ofendet solido’. + +Remember to write me very minute accounts of all your transactions at +Hanover, for they excite both my impatience and anxiety. Adieu! + + + + +LETTER CLXXIV + +LONDON, August 4, O. S. 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I am extremely concerned at the return of your old +asthmatic complaint, of which your letter from Cassel of the 28th July, +N. S., in forms me. I believe it is chiefly owing to your own negligence; +for, notwithstanding the season of the year, and the heat and agitation +of traveling, I dare swear you have not taken one single dose of gentle, +cooling physic, since that which I made you take at Bath. I hope you are +now better, and in better hands. I mean in Dr. Hugo’s at Hanover: he is +certainly a very skillful physician, and therefore I desire that you will +inform him most minutely of your own case, from your first attack in +Carniola, to this last at Marpurgh; and not only follow his prescriptions +exactly at present, but take his directions, with regard to the regimen +that he would have you observe to prevent the returns of this complaint; +and, in case of any returns, the immediate applications, whether external +or internal, that he would have you make use of. Consider, it is very +worth your while to submit at present to any course of medicine or diet, +to any restraint or confinement, for a time, in order to get rid, once +for all, of so troublesome and painful a distemper; the returns of which +would equally break in upon your business or your pleasures. +Notwithstanding all this, which is plain sense and reason, I much fear +that, as soon as ever you are got out of your present distress, you will +take no preventive care, by a proper course of medicines and regimen; +but, like most people of your age, think it impossible that you ever +should be ill again. However, if you will not be wise for your own sake, +I desire you will be so for mine, and most scrupulously observe Dr. +Hugo’s present and future directions. + +Hanover, where I take it for granted you are, is at present the seat and +centre of foreign negotiations; there are ministers from almost every +court in Europe; and you have a fine opportunity of displaying with +modesty, in conversation, your knowledge of the matters now in agitation. +The chief I take to be the Election of the King of the Romans, which, +though I despair of, heartily wish were brought about for two reasons. +The first is, that I think it may prevent a war upon the death of the +present Emperor, who, though young and healthy, may possibly die, as +young and healthy people often do. The other is, the very reason that +makes some powers oppose it, and others dislike it, who do not openly +oppose it; I mean, that it may tend to make the imperial dignity +hereditary in the House of Austria; which I heartily wish, together with +a very great increase of power in the empire: till when, Germany will +never be anything near a match for France. Cardinal Richelieu showed his +superior abilities in nothing more, than in thinking no pains or expense +too great to break the power of the House of Austria in the empire. +Ferdinand had certainly made himself absolute, and the empire +consequently formidable to France, if that Cardinal had not piously +adopted the Protestant cause, and put the empire, by the treaty of +Westphalia, in pretty much the same disjointed situation in which France +itself was before Lewis the Eleventh; when princes of the blood, at the +head of provinces, and Dukes of Brittany, etc., always opposed, and often +gave laws to the crown. Nothing but making the empire hereditary in the +House of Austria, can give it that strength and efficiency, which I wish +it had, for the sake of the balance of power. For, while the princes of +the empire are so independent of the emperor, so divided among +themselves, and so open to the corruption of the best bidders, it is +ridiculous to expect that Germany ever will, or can act as a compact and +well-united body against France. But as this notion of mine would as +little please SOME OF OUR FRIENDS, as many of our enemies, I would not +advise you, though you should be of the same opinion, to declare yourself +too freely so. Could the Elector Palatine be satisfied, which I confess +will be difficult, considering the nature of his pretensions, the +tenaciousness and haughtiness of the court of Vienna (and our inability +to do, as we have too often done, their work for them); I say, if the +Elector Palatine could be engaged to give his vote, I should think it +would be right to proceed to the election with a clear majority of five +votes; and leave the King of Prussia and the Elector of Cologne, to +protest and remonstrate as much as ever they please. The former is too +wise, and the latter too weak in every respect, to act in consequence of +these protests. The distracted situation of France, with its +ecclesiastical and parliamentary quarrels, not to mention the illness and +possibly the death of the Dauphin, will make the King of Prussia, who is +certainly no Frenchman in his heart, very cautious how he acts as one. +The Elector of Saxony will be influenced by the King of Poland, who must +be determined by Russia, considering his views upon Poland, which, by the +by, I hope he will never obtain; I mean, as to making that crown +hereditary in his family. As for his sons having it by the precarious +tenure of election, by which his father now holds it, ‘a la bonne heure’. +But, should Poland have a good government under hereditary kings, there +would be a new devil raised in Europe, that I do not know who could lay. +I am sure I would not raise him, though on my own side for the present. + +I do not know how I came to trouble my head so much about politics today, +which has been so very free from them for some years: I suppose it was +because I knew that I was writing to the most consummate politician of +this, and his age. If I err, you will set me right; ‘si quid novisti +rectius istis, candidus imperti’, etc. + +I am excessively impatient for your next letter, which I expect by the +first post from Hanover, to remove my anxiety, as I hope it will, not +only with regard to your health, but likewise to OTHER THINGS; in the +meantime in the language of a pedant, but with the tenderness of a +parent, ‘jubeo te bene valere’. + +Lady Chesterfield makes you many compliments, and is much concerned at +your indisposition. + + + + +LETTER CLXXV + +TO MONSIEUR DE VOLTAIRE, NOW STAYING AT BERLIN. + +LONDON, August 27, O. S. 1752. + +SIR: As a most convincing proof how infinitely I am interested in +everything which concerns Mr. Stanhope, who will have the honor of +presenting you this letter, I take the liberty of introducing him to you. +He has read a great deal, he has seen a great deal; whether or not he has +made a proper use of that knowledge, is what I do not know: he is only +twenty years of age. He was at Berlin some years ago, and therefore he +returns thither; for at present people are attracted toward the north by +the same motives which but lately drew them to the south. + +Permit me, Sir, to return you thanks for the pleasure and instruction I +have received from your ‘History of Lewis XIV’. I have as yet read it but +four times, because I wish to forget it a little before I read it a +fifth; but I find that impossible: I shall therefore only wait till you +give us the augmentation which you promised; let me entreat you not to +defer it long. I thought myself pretty conversant in the history of the +reign of Lewis XIV., by means of those innumerable histories, memoirs, +anecdotes, etc., which I had read relative to that period of time. You +have convinced me that I was mistaken, and had upon that subject very +confused ideas in many respects, and very false ones in others. Above +all, I cannot but acknowledge the obligation we have to you, Sir, for the +light which you have thrown upon the follies and outrages of the +different sects; the weapons you employ against those madmen, or those +impostors, are the only suitable ones; to make use of any others would be +imitating them: they must be attacked by ridicule, and, punished with +contempt. ‘A propos’ of those fanatics; I send you here inclosed a piece +upon that subject, written by the late Dean Swift: I believe you will not +dislike it. You will easily guess why it never was printed: it is +authentic, and I have the original in his own handwriting. His Jupiter, +at the Day of judgment, treats them much as you do, and as they deserve +to be treated. + +Give me leave, Sir, to tell you freely, that I am embarrassed upon your +account, as I cannot determine what it is that I wish from you. When I +read your last history, I am desirous that you should always write +history; but when I read your ‘Rome Sauvee’ (although ill-printed and +disfigured), yet I then wish you never to deviate from poetry; however, I +confess that there still remains one history worthy of your pen, and of +which your pen alone is worthy. You have long ago given us the history of +the greatest and most outrageous madman (I ask your pardon if I cannot +say the greatest hero) of Europe; you have given us latterly the history +of the greatest king; give us now the history of the greatest and most +virtuous man in Europe; I should think it degrading to call him king. To +you this cannot be difficult, he is always before your eyes: your +poetical invention is not necessary to his glory, as that may safely rely +upon your historical candor. The first duty of an historian is the only +one he need require from his, ‘Ne quid falsi dicere audeat, ne quid veri +non audeat’. Adieu, Sir! I find that I must admire you every day more and +more; but I also know that nothing ever can add to the esteem and +attachment with which I am actually, your most humble and most obedient +servant, CHESTERFIELD. + + + + +LETTER CLXXVI + +LONDON, September 19, 1752, + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Since you have been at Hanover, your correspondence has +been both unfrequent and laconic. You made indeed one great effort in +folio on the 18th, with a postscript of the 22d August, N. S., and since +that, ‘vous avez rate in quarto’. On the 31st August, N. S., you give me +no informations of what I want chiefly to know; which is, what Dr. Hugo +(whom I charged you to consult) said of your asthmatic complaint, and +what he prescribed you to prevent the returns of it; and also what is the +company that, you keep there, who has been kind and civil to you, and who +not. + +You say that you go constantly to the parade; and you do very well; for +though you are not of that trade, yet military matters make so great a +part both of conversation and negotiation, that it is very proper not to +be ignorant of them. I hope you mind more than the mere exercise of the +troops you see; and that you inform yourself at the same time, of the +more material details; such as their pay, and the difference of it when +in and out of quarters; what is furnished them by the country when in +quarters, and what is allowed them of ammunition, bread, etc., when in +the field; the number of men and officers in the several troops and +companies, together with the non-commissioned officers, as ‘caporals, +frey-caporals, anspessades’, sergeants, quarter-masters, etc.; the +clothing how frequent, how good, and how furnished; whether by the +colonel, as here in England, from what we call the OFF-RECKONINGS, that +is, deductions from the men’s pay, or by commissaries appointed by the +government for that purpose, as in France and Holland. By these inquiries +you will be able to talk military with military men, who, in every +country in Europe, except England, make at least half of all the best +companies. Your attending the parades has also another good effect, which +is, that it brings you, of course, acquainted with the officers, who, +when of a certain rank and service, are generally very polite, well-bred +people, ‘et du bon ton’. They have commonly seen a great deal of the +world, and of courts; and nothing else can form a gentleman, let people +say what they will of sense and learning; with both which a man may +contrive to be a very disagreeable companion. I dare say, there are very +few captains of foot, who are not much better company than ever Descartes +or Sir Isaac Newton were. I honor and respect such superior geniuses; but +I desire to converse with people of this world, who bring into company +their share, at least, of cheerfulness, good-breeding, and knowledge of +mankind. In common life, one much oftener wants small money, and silver, +than gold. Give me a man who has ready cash about him for present +expenses; sixpences, shillings, half-crowns, and crowns, which circulate +easily: but a man who has only an ingot of gold about him, is much above +common purposes, and his riches are not handy nor convenient. Have as +much gold as you please in one pocket, but take care always to keep +change in the other; for you will much oftener have occasion for a +shilling than for a guinea. In this the French must be allowed to excel +all people in the world: they have ‘un certain entregent, un enjouement, +un aimable legerete dans la conversation, une politesse aisee et +naturelle, qui paroit ne leur rien couter’, which give society all its +charms. I am sorry to add, but it is too true, that the English and the +Dutch are the farthest from this, of all the people in the world; I do by +no means except even the Swiss. + +Though you do not think proper to inform me, I know from other hands that +you were to go to the Gohr with a Comte Schullemburg, for eight or ten +days only, to see the reviews. I know also that you had a blister upon +your arm, which did you a great deal of good. I know too, you have +contracted a great friendship with Lord Essex, and that you two were +inseparable at Hanover. All these things I would rather have known from +you than from others; and they are the sort of things that I am the most +desirous of knowing, as they are more immediately relative to yourself. + +I am very sorry for the Duchess of Newcastle’s illness, full as much upon +your as upon her account, as it has hindered you from being so much known +to the Duke as I could have wished; use and habit going a great way with +him, as indeed they do with most people. I have known many people +patronized, pushed up, and preferred by those who could have given no +other reason for it, than that they were used to them. We must never seek +for motives by deep reasoning, but we must find them out by careful +observation and attention, no matter what they should be, but the point +is, what they are. Trace them up, step by step, from the character of the +person. I have known ‘de par le monde’, as Brantome says, great effects +from causes too little ever to have been suspected. Some things must be +known, and can never be guessed. + +God knows where this letter will find you, or follow you; not at Hanover, +I suppose; but wherever it does, may it find you in health and pleasure! +Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXXVII + +LONDON, September 22, O. S. 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The day after the date of my last, I received your letter +of the 8th. I approve extremely of your intended progress, and am very +glad that you go to the Gohr with Comte Schullemburg. I would have you +see everything with your own eyes, and hear everything with your own +ears: for I know, by very long experience, that it is very unsafe to +trust to other people’s. Vanity and interest cause many +misrepresentations, and folly causes many more. Few people have parts +enough to relate exactly and judiciously: and those who have, for some +reason or other, never fail to sink, or to add some circumstances. + +The reception which you have met with at Hanover, I look upon as an omen +of your being well received everywhere else; for to tell you the truth, +it was the place that I distrusted the most in that particular. But there +is a certain conduct, there are certaines ‘manieres’ that will, and must +get the better of all difficulties of that kind; it is to acquire them +that you still continue abroad, and go from court to court; they are +personal, local, and temporal; they are modes which vary, and owe their +existence to accidents, whim, and humor; all the sense and reason in the +world would never point them out; nothing but experience, observation, +and what is called knowledge of the world, can possibly teach them. For +example, it is respectful to bow to the King of England, it is +disrespectful to bow to the King of France; it is the rule to courtesy to +the Emperor; and the prostration of the whole body is required by eastern +monarchs. These are established ceremonies, and must be complied with: +but why thev were established, I defy sense and reason to tell us. It is +the same among all ranks, where certain customs are received, and must +necessarily be complied with, though by no means the result of sense and +reason. As for instance, the very absurd, though almost universal custom +of drinking people’s healths. Can there be anything in the world less +relative to any other man’s health, than my drinking a glass of wine? +Common sense certainly never pointed it out; but yet common sense tells +me I must conform to it. Good sense bids one be civil and endeavor to +please; though nothing but experience and observation can teach one the +means, properly adapted to time, place, and persons. This knowledge is +the true object of a gentleman’s traveling, if he travels as he ought to +do. By frequenting good company in every country, he himself becomes of +every country; he is no longer an Englishman, a Frenchman, or an Italian; +but he is an European; he adopts, respectively, the best manners of every +country; and is a Frenchman at Paris, an Italian at Rome, an Englishman +at London. + +This advantage, I must confess, very seldom accrues to my countrymen from +their traveling; as they have neither the desire nor the means of getting +into good company abroad; for, in the first place, they are confoundedly +bashful; and, in the next place, they either speak no foreign language at +all, or if they do, it is barbarously. You possess all the advantages +that they want; you know the languages in perfection, and have constantly +kept the best company in the places where you have been; so that you +ought to be an European. Your canvas is solid and strong, your outlines +are good; but remember that you still want the beautiful coloring of +Titian, and the delicate, graceful touches of Guido. Now is your time to +get them. There is, in all good company, a fashionable air, countenance, +manner, and phraseology, which can only be acquired by being in good +company, and very attentive to all that passes there. When you dine or +sup at any well-bred man’s house, observe carefully how he does the +honors of his table to the different guests. Attend to the compliments of +congratulation or condolence that you hear a well-bred man make to his +superiors, to his equals, and to his inferiors; watch even his +countenance and his tone of voice, for they all conspire in the main +point of pleasing. There is a certain distinguishing diction of a man of +fashion; he will not content himself with saying, like John Trott, to a +new-married man, Sir, I wish you much joy; or to a man who lost his son, +Sir, I am sorry for your loss; and both with a countenance equally +unmoved; but he will say in effect the same thing in a more elegant and +less trivial manner, and with a countenance adapted to the occasion. He +will advance with warmth, vivacity, and a cheerful countenance, to the +new-married man, and embracing him, perhaps say to him, “If you do +justice to my attachment to you, you will judge of the joy that I feel +upon this occasion, better than I can express it,” etc.; to the other in +affliction, he will advance slowly, with a grave composure of +countenance, in a more deliberate manner, and with a lower voice, perhaps +say, “I hope you do me the justice to be convinced that I feel whatever +you feel, and shall ever be affected where you are concerned.” + +Your ‘abord’, I must tell you, was too cold and uniform; I hope it is now +mended. It should be respectfully open and cheerful with your superiors, +warm and animated with your equals, hearty and free with your inferiors. +There is a fashionable kind of SMALL TALK which you should get; which, +trifling as it is, is of use in mixed companies, and at table, especially +in your foreign department; where it keeps off certain serious subjects, +that might create disputes, or at least coldness for a time. Upon such +occasions it is not amiss to know how to parley cuisine, and to be able +to dissert upon the growth and flavor of wines. These, it is true, are +very little things; but they are little things that occur very often, and +therefore should be said ‘avec gentillesse et grace’. I am sure they must +fall often in your way; pray take care to catch them. There is a certain +language of conversation, a fashionable diction, of which every gentleman +ought to be perfectly master, in whatever language he speaks. The French +attend to it carefully, and with great reason; and their language, which +is a language of phrases, helps them out exceedingly. That delicacy of +diction is characteristical of a man of fashion and good company. + +I could write folios upon this subject, and not exhaust it; but I think, +and hope, that to you I need not. You have heard and seen enough to be +convinced of the truth and importance of what I have been so long +inculcating into you upon these points. How happy am I, and how happy are +you, my dear child, that these Titian tints, and Guido graces, are all +that you want to complete my hopes and your own character! But then, on +the other hand, what a drawback would it be to that happiness, if you +should never acquire them? I remember, when I was of age, though I had +not near so good an education as you have, or seen a quarter so much of +the world, I observed those masterly touches and irresistible graces in +others, and saw the necessity of acquiring them myself; but then an +awkward ‘mauvaise honte’, of which I had brought a great deal with me +from Cambridge, made me ashamed to attempt it, especially if any of my +countrymen and particular acquaintances were by. This was extremely +absurd in me: for, without attempting, I could never succeed. But at +last, insensibly, by frequenting a great deal of good company, and +imitating those whom I saw that everybody liked, I formed myself, ‘tant +bien que mal’. For God’s sake, let this last fine varnish, so necessary +to give lustre to the whole piece, be the sole and single object now of +your utmost attention. Berlin may contribute a great deal to it if you +please; there are all the ingredients that compose it. + +‘A Propos’ of Berlin, while you are there, take care to seem ignorant of +all political matters between the two courts; such as the affairs of Ost +Frise, and Saxe Lawemburg, etc., and enter into no conversations upon +those points; but, however, be as well at court as you possibly can; live +at it, and make one of it. Should General Keith offer you civilities, do +not decline them; but return them, however, without being ‘enfant de la +maison chez lui’: say ‘des chores flatteuses’ of the Royal Family, and +especially of his Prussian Majesty, to those who are the most like to +repeat them. In short, make yourself well there, without making yourself +ill SOMEWHERE ELSE. Make compliments from me to Algarotti, and converse +with him in Italian. + +I go next week to the Bath, for a deafness, which I have been plagued +with these four or five months; and which I am assured that pumping my +head will remove. This deafness, I own, has tried my patience; as it has +cut me off from society, at an age when I had no pleasures but those +left. In the meantime, I have, by reading and writing, made my eyes +supply the defect of my ears. Madame H-----, I suppose, entertained both +yours alike; however, I am very glad that you were well with her; for she +is a good ‘proneuse’, and puffs are very useful to a young fellow at his +entrance into the world. + +If you should meet with Lord Pembroke again, anywhere, make him many +compliments from me; and tell him that I should have written to him, but +that I knew how troublesome an old correspondent must be to a young one. +He is much commended in the accounts from Hanover. + +You will stay at Berlin just as long as you like it, and no longer; and +from thence you are absolutely master of your own motions, either to The +Hague, or to Brussels; but I think that you had better go to The Hague +first, because that from thence Brussels will be in your way to Calais, +which is a much better passage to England than from Helvoetsluys. The two +courts of The Hague and Brussels are worth your seeing; and you will see +them both to advantage, by means of Colonel Yorke and Dayrolles. Adieu. +Here is enough for this time. + + + + +LETTER CLXXVIII + +LONDON, September 26, 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: As you chiefly employ, or rather wholly engross my +thoughts, I see every day, with increasing pleasure, the fair prospect +which you have before you. I had two views in your education; they draw +nearer and nearer, and I have now very little reason to distrust your +answering them fully. Those two were, parliamentary and foreign affairs. +In consequence of those views, I took care, first, to give you a +sufficient stock of sound learning, and next, an early knowledge of the +world. Without making a figure in parliament, no man can make any in this +country; and eloquence alone enables a man to make a figure in +parliament, unless, it be a very mean and contemptible one, which those +make there who silently vote, and who do ‘pedibus ire in sententiam’. +Foreign affairs, when skillfully managed, and supported by a +parliamentary reputation, lead to whatever is most considerable in this +country. You have the languages necessary for that purpose, with a +sufficient fund of historical and treaty knowledge; that is to say, you +have the matter ready, and only want the manner. Your objects being thus +fixed, I recommend to you to have them constantly in your thoughts, and +to direct your reading, your actions, and your words, to those views. +Most people think only ‘ex re nata’, and few ‘ex professo’: I would have +you do both, but begin with the latter. I explain myself: Lay down +certain principles, and reason and act consequently from them. As, for +example, say to yourself, I will make a figure in parliament, and in +order to do that, I must not only speak, but speak very well. Speaking +mere common sense will by no means do; and I must speak not only +correctly but elegantly; and not only elegantly but eloquently. In order +to do this, I will first take pains to get an habitual, but unaffected, +purity, correctness and elegance of style in my common conversation; I +will seek for the best words, and take care to reject improper, +inexpressive, and vulgar ones. I will read the greatest masters of +oratory, both ancient and modern, and I will read them singly in that +view. I will study Demosthenes and Cicero, not to discover an old +Athenian or Roman custom, nor to puzzle myself with the value of talents, +mines, drachms, and sesterces, like the learned blockheads in us; but to +observe their choice of words, their harmony of diction, their method, +their distribution, their exordia, to engage the favor and attention of +their audience; and their perorations, to enforce what they have said, +and to leave a strong impression upon the passions. Nor will I be pedant +enough to neglect the modern; for I will likewise study Atterbury, +Dryden, Pope, and Bolingbroke; nay, I will read everything that I do read +in that intention, and never cease improving and refining my style upon +the best models, till at last I become a model of eloquence myself, +which, by care, it is in every man’s power to be. If you set out upon +this principle, and keep it constantly in your mind, every company you go +into, and every book you read, will contribute to your improvement, +either by showing you what to imitate, or what to avoid. Are you to give +an account of anything to a mixed company? or are you to endeavor to +persuade either man or woman? This principle, fixed in your mind, will +make you carefully attend to the choice of your words, and to the +clearness and harmony of your diction. + +So much for your parliamentary object; now to the foreign one. + +Lay down first those principles which are absolutely necessary to form a +skillful and successful negotiator, and form yourself accordingly. What +are they? First, the clear historical knowledge of past transactions of +that kind. That you have pretty well already, and will have daily more +and more; for, in consequence of that principle, you will read history, +memoirs, anecdotes, etc., in that view chiefly. The other necessary +talents for negotiation are: the great art of pleasing and engaging the +affection and confidence, not only of those with whom you are to +cooperate, but even of those whom you are to oppose: to conceal your own +thoughts and views, and to discover other people’s: to engage other +people’s confidence by a seeming cheerful frankness and openness, without +going a step too far: to get the personal favor of the king, prince, +ministers, or mistresses of the court to which you are sent: to gain the +absolute command over your temper and your countenance, that no heat may +provoke you to say, nor no change of countenance to betray, what should +be a secret: to familiarize and domesticate yourself in the houses of the +most considerable people of the place, so as to be received there rather +as a friend to the family than as a foreigner. Having these principles +constantly in your thoughts, everything you do and everything you say +will some way or other tend to your main view; and common conversation +will gradually fit you for it. You will get a habit of checking any +rising heat; you will be upon your guard against any indiscreet +expression; you will by degrees get the command of your countenance, so +as not to change it upon any the most sudden accident; and you will, +above all things, labor to acquire the great art of pleasing, without +which nothing is to be done. Company is, in truth, a constant state of +negotiation; and, if you attend to it in that view, will qualify you for +any. By the same means that you make a friend, guard against an enemy, or +gain a mistress; you will make an advantageous treaty, baffle those who +counteract you, and gain the court you are sent to. Make this use of all +the company you keep, and your very pleasures will make you a successful +negotiator. Please all who are worth pleasing; offend none. Keep your own +secret, and get out other people’s. Keep your own temper and artfully +warm other people’s. Counterwork your rivals, with diligence and +dexterity, but at the same time with the utmost personal civility to +them; and be firm without heat. Messieurs d’Avaux and Servien did no more +than this. I must make one observation, in confirmation of this +assertion; which is, that the most eminent negotiators have allways been +the politest and bestbred men in company; even what the women call the +PRETTIEST MEN. For God’s sake, never lose view of these two your capital +objects: bend everything to them, try everything by their rules, and +calculate everything for their purposes. What is peculiar to these two +objects, is, that they require nothing, but what one’s own vanity, +interest, and pleasure, would make one do independently of them. If a man +were never to be in business, and always to lead a private life, would he +not desire to please and to persuade? So that, in your two destinations, +your fortune and figure luckily conspire with your vanity and your +pleasures. Nay more; a foreign minister, I will maintain it, can never be +a good man of business if he is not an agreeable man of pleasure too. +Half his business is done by the help of his pleasures; his views are +carried on, and perhaps best and most unsuspectedly, at balls, suppers, +assemblies, and parties of pleasure; by intrigues with women, and +connections insensibly formed with men, at those unguarded hours of +amusement. + +These objects now draw very near you, and you have no time to lose in +preparing yourself to meet them. You will be in parliament almost as soon +as your age will allow, and I believe you will have a foreign department +still sooner, and that will be earlier than ever any other body had one. +If you set out well at one-and-twenty, what may you not reasonably hope +to be at one-and-forty? All that I could wish you! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXXIX + +LONDON, September 29, 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: There is nothing so necessary, but at the same time there +is nothing more difficult (I know it by experience) for you young +fellows, than to know how to behave yourselves prudently toward those +whom you do not like. Your passions are warm, and your heads are light; +you hate all those who oppose your views, either of ambition or love; and +a rival, in either, is almost a synonymous term for an enemy. Whenever +you meet such a man, you are awkwardly cold to him, at best; but often +rude, and always desirous to give him some indirect slap. This is +unreasonable; for one man has as good a right to pursue an employment, or +a mistress, as another; but it is, into the bargain, extremely imprudent; +because you commonly defeat your own purpose by it, and while you are +contending with each other, a third often prevails. I grant you that the +situation is irksome; a man cannot help thinking as he thinks, nor +feeling what he feels; and it is a very tender and sore point to be +thwarted and counterworked in one’s pursuits at court, or with a +mistress; but prudence and abilities must check the effects, though they +cannot remove the cause. Both the pretenders make themselves disagreeable +to their mistress, when they spoil the company by their pouting, or their +sparring; whereas, if one of them has command enough over himself +(whatever he may feel inwardly) to be cheerful, gay, and easily and +unaffectedly civil to the other, as if there were no manner of +competition between them, the lady will certainly like him the best, and +his rival will be ten times more humbled and discouraged; for he will +look upon such a behavior as a proof of the triumph and security of his +rival, he will grow outrageous with the lady, and the warmth of his +reproaches will probably bring on a quarrel between them. It is the same +in business; where he who can command his temper and his countenance the +best, will always have an infinite advantage over the other. This is what +the French call un ‘procede honnete et galant’, to PIQUE yourself upon +showing particular civilities to a man, to whom lesser minds would, in +the same case, show dislike, or perhaps rudeness. I will give you an +instance of this in my own case; and pray remember it, whenever you come +to be, as I hope you will, in a like situation. + +When I went to The Hague, in 1744, it was to engage the Dutch to come +roundly into the war, and to stipulate their quotas of troops, etc.; your +acquaintance, the Abbe de la Ville, was there on the part of France, to +endeavor to hinder them from coming into the war at all. I was informed, +and very sorry to hear it, that he had abilities, temper, and industry. +We could not visit, our two masters being at war; but the first time I +met him at a third place, I got somebody to present me to him; and I told +him, that though we were to be national enemies, I flattered myself we +might be, however, personal friends, with a good deal more of the same +kind; which he returned in full as polite a manner. Two days afterward, I +went, early in the morning, to solicit the Deputies of Amsterdam, where I +found l’Abbe de la Ville, who had been beforehand with me; upon which I +addressed myself to the Deputies, and said, smilingly, I am very sorry, +Gentlemen, to find my enemy with you; my knowledge of his capacity is +already sufficient to make me fear him; we are not upon equal terms; but +I trust to your own interest against his talents. If I have not this day +had the first word, I shall at least have the last. They smiled: the Abbe +was pleased with the compliment, and the manner of it, stayed about a +quarter of an hour, and then left me to my Deputies, with whom I +continued upon the same tone, though in a very serious manner, and told +them that I was only come to state their own true interests to them, +plainly and simply, without any of those arts, which it was very +necessary for my friend to make use of to deceive them. I carried my +point, and continued my ‘procede’ with the Abbe; and by this easy and +polite commerce with him, at third places, I often found means to fish +out from him whereabouts he was. + +Remember, there are but two ‘procedes’ in the world for a gentleman and a +man of parts; either extreme politeness or knocking down. If a man +notoriously and designedly insults and affronts you, knock him down; but +if he only injures you, your best revenge is to be extremely civil to him +in your outward behavior, though at the same time you counterwork him, +and return him the compliment, perhaps with interest. This is not perfidy +nor dissimulation; it would be so if you were, at the same time, to make +professions of esteem and friendship to this man; which I by no means +recommend, but on the contrary abhor. But all acts of civility are, by +common consent, understood to be no more than a conformity to custom, for +the quiet and conveniency of society, the ‘agremens’ of which are not to +be disturbed by private dislikes and jealousies. Only women and little +minds pout and spar for the entertainment of the company, that always +laughs at, and never pities them. For my own part, though I would by no +means give up any point to a competitor, yet I would pique myself upon +showing him rather more civility than to another man. In the first place, +this ‘procede’ infallibly makes all ‘les rieurs’ of your side, which is a +considerable party; and in the next place, it certainly pleases the +object of the competition, be it either man or woman; who never fail to +say, upon such an occasion, that THEY MUST OWN YOU HAVE BEHAVED YOURSELF +VERY, HANDSOMELY IN THE WHOLE AFFAIR. The world judges from the +appearances of things, and not from the reality, which few are able, and +still fewer are inclined to fathom: and a man, who will take care always +to be in the right in those things, may afford to be sometimes a little +in the wrong in more essential ones: there is a willingness, a desire to +excuse him. With nine people in ten, good-breeding passes for +good-nature, and they take attentions for good offices. At courts there +will be always coldnesses, dislikes, jealousies, and hatred, the harvest +being but small in proportion to the number of laborers; but then, as +they arise often, they die soon, unless they are perpetuated by the +manner in which they have been carried on, more than by the matter which +occasioned them. The turns and vicissitudes of courts frequently make +friends of enemies, and enemies of friends; you must labor, therefore, to +acquire that great and uncommon talent of hating with good-breeding and +loving with prudence; to make no quarrel irreconcilable by silly and +unnecessary indications of anger; and no friendship dangerous, in case it +breaks, by a wanton, indiscreet, and unreserved confidence. + +Few, (especially young) people know how to love, or how to hate; their +love is an unbounded weakness, fatal to the person they love; their hate +is a hot, rash, and imprudent violence, always fatal to themselves. + +Nineteen fathers in twenty, and every mother, who had loved you half as +well as I do, would have ruined you; whereas I always made you feel the +weight of my authority, that you might one day know the force of my love. +Now, I both hope and believe, my advice will have the same weight with +you from choice that my authority had from necessity. My advice is just +eight-and-twenty years older than your own, and consequently, I believe +you think, rather better. As for your tender and pleasurable passions, +manage them yourself; but let me have the direction of all the others. +Your ambition, your figure, and your fortune, will, for some time at +least, be rather safer in my keeping than in your own. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXXX + +BATH, October 4, 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I consider you now as at the court of Augustus, where, if +ever the desire of pleasing animated you, it must make you exert all the +means of doing it. You will see there, full as well, I dare say, as +Horace did at Rome, how states are defended by arms, adorned by manners, +and improved by laws. Nay, you have an Horace there as well as an +Augustus; I need not name Voltaire, ‘qui nil molitur inept?’ as Horace +himself said of another poet. I have lately read over all his works that +are published, though I had read them more than once before. I was +induced to this by his ‘Siecle de Louis XIV’, which I have yet read but +four times. In reading over all his works, with more attention I suppose +than before, my former admiration of him is, I own, turned into +astonishment. There is no one kind of writing in which he has not +excelled. You are so severe a classic that I question whether you will +allow me to call his ‘Henriade’ an epic poem, for want of the proper +number of gods, devils, witches and other absurdities, requisite for the +machinery; which machinery is, it seems, necessary to constitute the +‘epopee’. But whether you do or not, I will declare (though possibly to +my own shame) that I never read any epic poem with near so much pleasure. +I am grown old, and have possibly lost a great deal of that fire which +formerly made me love fire in others at any rate, and however attended +with smoke; but now I must have all sense, and cannot, for the sake of +five righteous lines, forgive a thousand absurd ones. + +In this disposition of mind, judge whether I can read all Homer through +‘tout de suite’. I admire its beauties; but, to tell you the truth, when +he slumbers, I sleep. Virgil, I confess, is all sense, and therefore I +like him better than his model; but he is often languid, especially in +his five or six last books, during which I am obliged to take a good deal +of snuff. Besides, I profess myself an ally of Turnus against the pious +AEneas, who, like many ‘soi-disant’ pious people, does the most flagrant +injustice and violence in order to execute what they impudently call the +will of Heaven. But what will you say, when I tell you truly, that I +cannot possibly read our countryman Milton through? I acknowledge him to +have some most sublime passages, some prodigious flashes of light; but +then you must acknowledge that light is often followed by darkness +visible, to use his own expression. Besides, not having the honor to be +acquainted with any of the parties in this poem, except the Man and the +Woman, the characters and speeches of a dozen or two of angels and of as +many devils, are as much above my reach as my entertainment. Keep this +secret for me: for if it should be known, I should be abused by every +tasteless pedant, and every solid divine in England. + +‘Whatever I have said to the disadvantage of these three poems, holds +much stronger against Tasso’s ‘Gierusalemme’: it is true he has very fine +and glaring rays of poetry; but then they are only meteors, they dazzle, +then disappear, and are succeeded by false thoughts, poor ‘concetti’, and +absurd impossibilities; witness the Fish and the Parrot; extravagancies +unworthy of an heroic poem, and would much better have become Ariosto, +who professes ‘le coglionerie’. + +I have never read the “Lusiade of Camoens,” except in prose translation, +consequently I have never read it at all, so shall say nothing of it; but +the Henriade is all sense from the beginning to the end, often adorned by +the justest and liveliest reflections, the most beautiful descriptions, +the noblest images, and the sublimest sentiments; not to mention the +harmony of the verse, in which Voltaire undoubtedly exceeds all the +French poets: should you insist upon an exception in favor of Racine, I +must insist, on my part, that he at least equals him. What hero ever +interested more than Henry the Fourth; who, according to the rules of +epic poetry, carries on one great and long action, and succeeds in it at +last? What descriptions ever excited more horror than those, first of the +Massacre, and then of the Famine at Paris? Was love ever painted with +more truth and ‘morbidezza’ than in the ninth book? Not better, in my +mind, even in the fourth of Virgil. Upon the whole, with all your +classical rigor, if you will but suppose St. Louis a god, a devil, or a +witch, and that he appears in person, and not in a dream, the Henriade +will be an epic poem, according to the strictest statute laws of the +‘epopee’; but in my court of equity it is one as it is. + +I could expatiate as much upon all his different works, but that I should +exceed the bounds of a letter and run into a dissertation. How delightful +is his history of that northern brute, the King of Sweden, for I cannot +call him a man; and I should be sorry to have him pass for a hero, out of +regard to those true heroes, such as Julius Caesar, Titus, Trajan, and +the present King of Prussia, who cultivated and encouraged arts and +sciences; whose animal courage was accompanied by the tender and social +sentiments of humanity; and who had more pleasure in improving, than in +destroying their fellow-creatures. What can be more touching, or more +interesting--what more nobly thought, or more happily expressed, than all +his dramatic pieces? What can be more clear and rational than all his +philosophical letters? and whatever was so graceful, and gentle, as all +his little poetical trifles? You are fortunately ‘a porte’ of verifying, +by your knowledge of the man, all that I have said of his works. + +Monsieur de Maupertius (whom I hope you will get acquainted with) is, +what one rarely meets with, deep in philosophy and, mathematics, and yet +‘honnete et aimable homme’: Algarotti is young Fontenelle. Such men must +necessarily give you the desire of pleasing them; and if you can frequent +them, their acquaintance will furnish you the means of pleasing everybody +else. + +‘A propos’ of pleasing, your pleasing Mrs. F-----d is expected here in +two or three days; I will do all that I can for you with her: I think you +carried on the romance to the third or fourth volume; I will continue it +to the eleventh; but as for the twelfth and last, you must come and +conclude it yourself. ‘Non sum qualis eram’. + +Good-night to you, child; for I am going to bed, just at the hour at +which I suppose you are going to live, at Berlin. + + + + +LETTER CLXXXI + +BATH, November 11, O. S. 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: It is a very old and very true maxim, that those kings +reign the most secure and the most absolute, who reign in the hearts of +their people. Their popularity is a better guard than their army, and the +affections of their subjects a better pledge of their obedience than +their fears. This rule is, in proportion, full as true, though upon a +different scale, with regard to private people. A man who possesses that +great art of pleasing universally, and of gaining the affections of those +with whom he converses, possesses a strength which nothing else can give +him: a strength which facilitates and helps his rise; and which, in case +of accidents, breaks his fall. Few people of your age sufficiently +consider this great point of popularity; and when they grow older and +wiser, strive in vain to recover what they have lost by their negligence. +There are three principal causes that hinder them from acquiring this +useful strength: pride, inattention, and ‘mauvaise honte’. The first I +will not, I cannot suspect you of; it is too much below your +understanding. You cannot, and I am sure you do not think yourself +superior by nature to the Savoyard who cleans your room, or the footman +who cleans your shoes; but you may rejoice, and with reason, at the +difference that fortune has made in your favor. Enjoy all those +advantages; but without insulting those who are unfortunate enough to +want them, or even doing anything unnecessarily that may remind them of +that want. For my own part, I am more upon my guard as to my behavior to +my servants, and others who are called my inferiors, than I am toward my +equals: for fear of being suspected of that mean and ungenerous sentiment +of desiring to make others feel that difference which fortune has, and +perhaps too, undeservedly, made between us. Young people do not enough +attend to this; and falsely imagine that the imperative mood, and a rough +tone of authority and decision, are indications of spirit and courage. +Inattention is always looked upon, though sometimes unjustly, as the +effect of pride and contempt; and where it is thought so, is never +forgiven. In this article, young people are generally exceedingly to +blame, and offend extremely. Their whole attention is engrossed by their +particular set of acquaintance; and by some few glaring and exalted +objects of rank, beauty, or parts; all the rest they think so little +worth their care, that they neglect even common civility toward them. I +will frankly confess to you, that this was one of my great faults when I +was of your age. Very attentive to please that narrow court circle in +which I stood enchanted, I considered everything else as bourgeois, and +unworthy of common civility; I paid my court assiduously and skillfully +enough to shining and distinguished figures, such as ministers, wits, and +beauties; but then I most absurdly and imprudently neglected, and +consequently offended all others. By this folly I made myself a thousand +enemies of both sexes; who, though I thought them very insignificant, +found means to hurt me essentially where I wanted to recommend myself the +most. I was thought proud, though I was only imprudent. A general easy +civility and attention to the common run of ugly women, and of middling +men, both which I sillily thought, called, and treated, as odd people, +would have made me as many friends, as by the contrary conduct I made +myself enemies. All this too was ‘a pure perte’; for I might equally, and +even more successfully, have made my court, when I had particular views +to gratify. I will allow that this task is often very unpleasant, and +that one pays, with some unwillingness, that tribute of attention to dull +and tedious men, and to old and ugly women; but it is the lowest price of +popularity and general applause, which are very well worth purchasing +were they much dearer. I conclude this head with this advice to you: +Gain, by particular assiduity and address, the men and women you want; +and, by an universal civility and attention, please everybody so far as +to have their good word, if not their goodwill; or, at least, as to +secure a partial neutrality. + +‘Mauvaise honte’ not only hinders young people from making, a great many +friends, but makes them a great many enemies. They are ashamed of doing +the thing they know to be right, and would otherwise do, for fear of the +momentary laugh of some fine gentleman or lady, or of some ‘mauvais +plaisant’. I have been in this case: and have often wished an obscure +acquaintance at the devil, for meeting and taking notice of me when I was +in what I thought and called fine company. I have returned their notice +shyly, awkwardly, and consequently offensively; for fear of a momentary +joke, not considering, as I ought to have done, that the very people who +would have joked upon me at first, would have esteemed me the more for it +afterward. An example explains a rule best: Suppose you were walking in +the Tuileries with some fine folks, and that you should unexpectedly meet +your old acquaintance, little crooked Grierson; what would you do? I will +tell you what you should do, by telling you what I would now do in that +case myself. I would run up to him, and embrace him; say some kind of +things to him, and then return to my company. There I should be +immediately asked: ‘Mais qu’est ce que c’est donc que ce petit Sapajou +que vous avez embrasse si tendrement? Pour cela, l’accolade a ete +charmante’; with a great deal more festivity of that sort. To this I +should answer, without being the least ashamed, but en badinant: O je ne +vous dirai tas qui c’est; c’est un petit ami que je tiens incognito, qui +a son merite, et qui, a force d’etre connu, fait oublier sa figure. Que +me donnerez-vous, et je vous le presenterai’? And then, with a little +more seriousness, I would add: ‘Mais d’ailleurs c’est que je ne desavoue +jamais mes connoissances, a cause de leur etat ou de leur figure. Il faut +avoir bien peu de sentimens pour le faire’. This would at once put an end +to that momentary pleasantry, and give them all a better opinion of me +than they had before. Suppose another case, and that some of the finest +ladies ‘du bon ton’ should come into a room, and find you sitting by, and +talking politely to ‘la vieille’ Marquise de Bellefonds, the joke would, +for a moment, turn upon that ‘tete-a-tete’: He bien! avez vous a la fin +fixd la belle Marquise? La partie est-elle faite pour la petite maison? +Le souper sera galant sans doute: Mais ne faistu donc point scrupule de +seduire une jeune et aimable persone comme celle-la’? To this I should +answer: ‘La partie n’etoit pas encore tout-a fait liee, vous nous avez +interrompu; mais avec le tems que fait-on? D’ailleurs moquezvous de mes +amours tant qu’il vous plaira, je vous dirai que je respecte tant les +jeunes dames, que je respecte meme les vieilles, pour l’avoir ete. Apre +cela il y a souvent des liaisons entre les vieilles et les jeunes’. This +would at once turn the pleasantry into an esteem for your good sense and +your good-breeding. Pursue steadily, and without fear or shame, whatever +your reason tells you is right, and what you see is practiced by people +of more experience than yourself, and of established characters of good +sense and good-breeding. + +After all this, perhaps you will say, that it is impossible to please +everybody. I grant it; but it does not follow that one should not +therefore endeavor to please as many as one can. Nay, I will go further, +and admit that it is impossible for any man not to have some enemies. But +this truth from long experience I assert, that he who has the most +friends and the fewest enemies, is the strongest; will rise the highest +with the least envy; and fall, if he does fall, the gentlest, and the +most pitied. This is surely an object worth pursuing. Pursue it according +to the rules I have here given you. I will add one observation more, and +two examples to enforce it; and then, as the parsons say, conclude. + +There is no one creature so obscure, so low, or so poor, who may not, by +the strange and unaccountable changes and vicissitudes of human affairs, +somehow or other, and some time or other, become an useful friend or a +trouble-some enemy, to the greatest and the richest. The late Duke of +Ormond was almost the weakest but at the same time the best-bred, and +most popular man in this kingdom. His education in courts and camps, +joined to an easy, gentle nature, had given him that habitual affability, +those engaging manners, and those mechanical attentions, that almost +supplied the place of every talent he wanted; and he wanted almost every +one. They procured him the love of all men, without the esteem of any. He +was impeached after the death of Queen Anne, only because that, having +been engaged in the same measures with those who were necessarily to be +impeached, his impeachment, for form’s sake, became necessary. But he was +impeached without acrimony, and without the lest intention that he should +suffer, notwithstanding the party violence of those times. The question +for his impeachment, in the House of Commons, was carried by many fewer +votes than any other question of impeachment; and Earl Stanhope, then Mr. +Stanhope, and Secretary’ of State, who impeached him, very soon after +negotiated and concluded his accommodation with the late King; to whom he +was to have been presented the next day. But the late Bishop of +Rochester, Atterbury, who thought that the Jacobite cause might suffer by +losing the Duke of Ormond, went in all haste, and prevailed with the poor +weak man to run away; assuring him that he was only to be gulled into a +disgraceful submission, and not to be pardoned in consequence of it. When +his subsequent attainder passed, it excited mobs and disturbances in +town. He had not a personal enemy in the world; and had a thousand +friends. All this was simply owing to his natural desire of pleasing, and +to the mechanical means that his education, not his parts, had given him +of doing it. The other instance is the late Duke of Marlborough, who +studied the art of pleasing, because he well knew the importance of it: +he enjoyed and used it more than ever man did. He gained whoever he had a +mind to gain; and he had a mind to gain everybody, because he knew that +everybody was more or less worth gaining. Though his power, as Minister +and General, made him many political and party enemies, they did not make +him one personal one; and the very people who would gladly have +displaced, disgraced, and perhaps attainted the Duke of Marlborough, at +the same time personally loved Mr. Churchill, even though his private +character was blemished by sordid avarice, the most unamiable of all +vices. He had wound up and turned his whole machine to please and engage. +He had an inimitable sweetness and gentleness in his countenance, a +tenderness in his manner of speaking, a graceful dignity in every motion, +and an universal and minute attention to the least things that could +possibly please the least person. This was all art in him; art of which +he well knew and enjoyed the advantages; for no man ever had more +interior ambition, pride, and avarice, than he had. + +Though you have more than most people of your age, you have yet very +little experience and knowledge of the world; now, I wish to inoculate +mine upon you, and thereby prevent both the dangers and the marks of +youth and inexperience. If you receive the matter kindly, and observe my +prescriptions scrupulously, you will secure the future advantages of time +and join them to the present inestimable ones of one-and-twenty. + +I most earnestly recommend one thing to you, during your present stay at +Paris. I own it is not the most agreeable; but I affirm it to be the most +useful thing in the world to one of your age; and therefore I do hope +that you will force and constrain yourself to do it. I mean, to converse +frequently, or rather to be in company frequently with both men and women +much your superiors in age and rank. I am very sensible that, at your +age, ‘vous y entrez pour peu de chose, et meme souvent pour rien, et que +vous y passerez meme quelques mauvais quart-d’heures’; but no matter; you +will be a solid gainer by it: you will see, hear, and learn the turn and +manners of those people; you will gain premature experience by it; and it +will give you a habit of engaging and respectful attentions. Versailles, +as much as possible, though probably unentertaining: the Palais Royal +often, however dull: foreign ministers of the first rank, frequently, and +women, though old, who are respectable and respected for their rank or +parts; such as Madame de Pusieux, Madame de Nivernois, Madame +d’Aiguillon, Madame Geoffrain, etc. This ‘sujetion’, if it be one to you, +will cost you but very little in these three or four months that you are +yet to pass in Paris, and will bring you in a great deal; nor will it, +nor ought it, to hinder you from being in a more entertaining company a +great part of the day. ‘Vous pouvez, si vous le voulex, tirer un grand +parti de ces quatre mois’. May God make you so, and bless you! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXXXII + +BATH, November 16, O. S. 1752. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Vanity, or to call it by a gentler name, the desire of +admiration and applause, is, perhaps, the most universal principle of +human actions; I do not say that it is the best; and I will own that it +is sometimes the cause of both foolish and criminal effects. But it is so +much oftener the principle of right things, that though they ought to +have a better, yet, considering human nature, that principle is to be +encouraged and cherished, in consideration of its effects. Where that +desire is wanting, we are apt to be indifferent, listless, indolent, and +inert; we do not exert our powers; and we appear to be as much below +ourselves as the vainest man living can desire to appear above what he +really is. + +As I have made you my confessor, and do not scruple to confess even my +weaknesses to you, I will fairly own that I had that vanity, that +weakness, if it be one, to a prodigious degree; and, what is more, I +confess it without repentance: nay, I am glad I had it; since, if I have +had the good fortune to please in the world, it is to that powerful and +active principle that I owe it. I began the world, not with a bare +desire, but with an insatiable thirst, a rage of popularity, applause, +and admiration. If this made me do some silly things on one hand, it made +me, on the other hand, do almost all the right things that I did; it made +me attentive and civil to the women I disliked, and to the men I +despised, in hopes of the applause of both: though I neither desired, nor +would I have accepted the favors of the one, nor the friendship of the +other. I always dressed, looked, and talked my best; and, I own, was +overjoyed whenever I perceived, that by all three, or by any one of them, +the company was pleased with me. To men, I talked whatever I thought +would give them the best opinion of my parts and learning; and to women, +what I was sure would please them; flattery, gallantry, and love. And, +moreover, I will own to you, under the secrecy of confession, that my +vanity has very often made me take great pains to make a woman in love +with me, if I could, for whose person I would not have given a pinch of +snuff. In company with men, I always endeavored to outshine, or at least, +if possible, to equal the most shining man in it. This desire elicited +whatever powers I had to gratify it; and where I could not perhaps shine +in the first, enabled me, at least, to shine in a second or third sphere. +By these means I soon grew in fashion; and when a man is once in fashion, +all he does is right. It was infinite pleasure to me to find my own +fashion and popularity. I was sent for to all parties of pleasure, both +of men or women; where, in some measure, I gave the ‘ton’. This gave me +the reputation of having had some women of condition; and that +reputation, whether true or false, really got me others. With the men I +was a Proteus, and assumed every shape, in order to please them all: +among the gay, I was the gayest; among the grave, the gravest; and I +never omitted the least attentions of good-breeding, or the least offices +of friendship, that could either please, or attach them to me: and +accordingly I was soon connected with all the men of any fashion or +figure in town. + +To this principle of vanity, which philosophers call a mean one, and +which I do not, I owe great part of the figure which I have made in life. +I wish you had as much, but I fear you have too little of it; and you +seem to have a degree of laziness and listlessness about you that makes +you indifferent as to general applause. This is not in character at your +age, and would be barely pardonable in an elderly and philosophical man. +It is a vulgar, ordinary saying, but it is a very true one, that one +should always put the best foot foremost. One should please, shine, and +dazzle, wherever it is possible. At Paris, I am sure you must observe +‘que chacun se fait valoir autant qu’il est possible’; and La Bruyere +observes, very justly, qu’on ne vaut dans ce monde que ce qu’on veut +valoir’: wherever applause is in question, you will never see a French +man, nor woman, remiss or negligent. Observe the eternal attentions and +politeness that all people have there for one another. ‘Ce n’est pas pour +leurs beaux yeux au moins’. No, but for their own sakes, for +commendations and applause. Let me then recommend this principle of +vanity to you; act upon it ‘meo periculo’; I promise you it will turn to +your account. Practice all the arts that ever coquette did, to please. Be +alert and indefatigable in making every man admire, and every woman in +love with you. I can tell you too, that nothing will carry you higher in +the world. + +I have had no letter from you since your arrival at Paris, though you +must have been long enough there to have written me two or three. In +about ten or twelve days I propose leaving this place, and going to +London; I have found considerable benefit by my stay here, but not all +that I want. Make my compliments to Lord Albemarle. + + + + +LETTER CLXXXIII + +BATH, November 28, 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Since my last to you, I have read Madame Maintenon’s +“Letters”; I am sure they are genuine, and they both entertained and +informed me. They have brought me acquainted with the character of that +able and artful lady; whom I am convinced that I now know much better +than her directeur the Abby de Fenelon (afterward Archbishop of Cambray) +did, when he wrote her the 185th letter; and I know him the better too +for that letter. The Abby, though brimful of the divine love, had a great +mind to be first minister, and cardinal, in order, NO DOUBT, to have an +opportunity of doing the more good. His being ‘directeur’ at that time to +Madame Maintenon, seemed to be a good step toward those views. She put +herself upon him for a saint, and he was weak enough to believe it; he, +on the other hand, would have put himself upon her for a saint too, +which, I dare say, she did not believe; but both of them knew that it was +necessary for them to appear saints to Lewis the Fourteenth, who they +were very sure was a bigot. It is to be presumed, nay, indeed, it is +plain by that 185th letter that Madame Maintenon had hinted to her +directeur some scruples of conscience, with relation to her commerce with +the King; and which I humbly apprehend to have been only some scruples of +prudence, at once to flatter the bigot character, and increase the +desires of the King. The pious Abbe, frightened out of his wits, lest the +King should impute to the ‘directeur’ any scruples or difficulties which +he might meet with on the part of the lady, writes her the +above-mentioned letter; in which he not only bids her not tease the King +by advice and exhortations, but to have the utmost submission to his +will; and, that she may not mistake the nature of that submission, he +tells her it is the same that Sarah had for Abraham; to which submission +Isaac perhaps was owing. No bawd could have written a more seducing +letter to an innocent country girl, than the ‘directeur’ did to his +‘penitente’; who I dare say had no occasion for his good advice. Those +who would justify the good ‘directeur’, alias the pimp, in this affair, +must not attempt to do it by saying that the King and Madame Maintenon +were at that time privately married; that the directeur knew it; and that +this was the meaning of his ‘enigme’. That is absolutely impossible; for +that private marriage must have removed all scruples between the parties; +nay, could not have been contracted upon any other principle, since it +was kept private, and consequently prevented no public scandal. It is +therefore extremely evident that Madame Maintenon could not be married to +the King at the time when she scrupled granting, and when the ‘directeur’ +advised her to grant, those favors which Sarah with so much submission +granted to Abraham: and what the ‘directeur’ is pleased to call ‘le +mystere de Dieu’, was most evidently a state of concubinage. The letters +are very well worth your reading; they throw light upon many things of +those times. + +I have just received a letter from Sir William Stanhope, from Lyons; in +which he tells me that he saw you at Paris, that he thinks you a little +grown, but that you do not make the most of it, for that you stoop still: +‘d’ailleurs’ his letter was a panegyric of you. + +The young Comte de Schullemburg, the Chambellan whom you knew at Hanover, +is come over with the King, ‘et fait aussi vos eloges’. + +Though, as I told you in my last, I have done buying pictures, by way of +‘virtu’, yet there are some portraits of remarkable people that would +tempt me. For instance, if you could by chance pick up at Paris, at a +reasonable price, and undoubted originals (whether heads, half lengths, +or whole lengths, no matter) of Cardinals Richelieu, Mazarin, and Retz, +Monsieur de Turenne, le grand Prince de Condo; Mesdames de Montespan, de +Fontanges, de Montbazon, de Sevigne, de Maintenon, de Chevreuse, de +Longueville, d’Olonne, etc., I should be tempted to purchase them. I am +sensible that they can only be met with, by great accident, at family +sales and auctions, so I only mention the affair to you eventually. + +I do not understand, or else I do not remember, what affair you mean in +your last letter; which you think will come to nothing, and for which, +you say, I had once a mind that you should take the road again. Explain +it to me. + +I shall go to town in four or five days, and carry back with me a little +more hearing than I brought; but yet, not half enough for common wants. +One wants ready pocket-money much oftener than one wants great sums; and +to use a very odd expression, I want to hear at sight. I love every-day +senses, every-day wit and entertainment; a man who is only good on +holydays is good for very little. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXXXIV + +Christmas Day, 1752 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: A tyrant with legions at his com mand may say, Oderint +modo timeant; though he is a fool if he says it, and a greater fool if he +thinks it. But a private man who can hurt but few, though he can please +many, must endeavor to be loved, for he cannot be feared in general. +Popularity is his only rational and sure foundation. The good-will, the +affections, the love of the public, can alone raise him to any +considerable height. Should you ask me how he is to acquire them, I will +answer, By desiring them. No man ever deserved, who did not desire them; +and no man both deserved and desired them who had them not, though many +have enjoyed them merely by desiring, and without deserving them. You do +not imagine, I believe, that I mean by this public love the sentimental +love of either lovers or intimate friends; no, that is of another nature, +and confined to a very narrow circle; but I mean that general good-will +which a man may acquire in the world, by the arts of pleasing +respectively exerted according to the rank, the situation, and the turn +of mind of those whom he hath to do with. The pleasing impressions which +he makes upon them will engage their affections and their good wishes, +and even their good offices as far (that is) as they are not inconsistent +with their own interests; for further than that you are not to expect +from three people in the course of your life, even were it extended to +the patriarchal term. Could I revert to the age of twenty, and carry back +with me all the experience that forty years more have taught me, I can +assure you, that I would employ much the greatest part of my time in +engaging the good-will, and in insinuating myself into the predilection +of people in general, instead of directing my endeavors to please (as I +was too apt to do) to the man whom I immediately wanted, or the woman I +wished for, exclusively of all others. For if one happens (and it will +sometimes happen to the ablest man) to fail in his views with that man or +that woman, one is at a loss to know whom to address one’s self to next, +having offended in general, by that exclusive and distinguished +particular application. I would secure a general refuge in the good-will +of the multitude, which is a great strength to any man; for both +ministers and mistresses choose popular and fashionable favorites. A man +who solicits a minister, backed by the general good-will and good wishes +of mankind, solicits with great weight and great probability of success; +and a woman is strangely biassed in favor of a man whom she sees in +fashion, and hears everybody speak well of. This useful art of +insinuation consists merely of various little things. A graceful motion, +a significant look, a trifling attention, an obliging word dropped ‘a +propos’, air, dress, and a thousand other undefinable things, all +severally little ones, joined together, make that happy and inestimable +composition, THE ART OF PLEASING. I have in my life seen many a very +handsome woman who has not pleased me, and many very sensible men who +have disgusted me. Why? only for want of those thousand little means to +please, which those women, conscious of their beauty, and those men of +their sense, have been grossly enough mistaken to neglect. I never was so +much in love in my life, as I was with a woman who was very far from +being handsome; but then she was made up of graces, and had all the arts +of pleasing. The following verses, which I have read in some +congratulatory poem prefixed to some work, I have forgot which, express +what I mean in favor of what pleases preferably to what is generally +called mare solid and instructive: + + “I would an author like a mistress try, + Not by a nose, a lip, a cheek, or eye, + But by some nameless power to give me joy.” + +Lady Chesterfield bids me make you many compliments; she showed me your +letter of recommendation of La Vestres; with which I was very well +pleased: there is a pretty turn in it; I wish you would always speak as +genteelly. I saw another letter from a lady at Paris, in which there was +a high panegyrical paragraph concerning you. I wish it were every word of +it literally true; but, as it comes from a very little, pretty, white +hand, which is suspected, and I hope justly, of great partiality to you: +‘il en faut rabattre quelque chose, et meme en le faisant it y aura +toujours d’assez beaux restes’. Adieu. + + + + + LETTERS TO HIS SON + 1753-54 + + By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + + on the Fine Art of becoming a + + MAN OF THE WORLD + + and a + + GENTLEMAN + + + + +LETTER CLXXXV + +LONDON, New Years’ Day, 1753 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: It is now above a fortnight since I have received a +letter from you. I hope, however, that you are well, but engrossed by the +business of Lord Albemarle’s ‘bureau’ in the mornings, and by business of +a genteeler nature in the evenings; for I willingly give up my own +satisfaction to your improvement, either in business or manners. + +Here have been lately imported from Paris two gentlemen, who, I find, +were much acquainted with you there Comte Zinzendorf, and Monsieur +Clairant the Academician. The former is a very pretty man, well-bred, and +with a great deal of useful knowledge; for those two things are very +consistent. I examined him about you, thinking him a competent judge. He +told me, ‘que vous parliez l’Allemand comme un Allemand; que vous saviez +le droit public de l’empire parfaitement bien; que vous aviez le gout +sur, et des connoissances fort etendues’. I told him that I knew all this +very well; but that I wanted to know whether you had l’air, les manieres, +les attentions, en fin le brillant d’un honnete homme’: his answer was, +‘Mais oui en verite, c’est fort bien’. This, you see, is but cold in +comparison of what I do wish, and of what you ought to wish. Your friend +Clairant interposed, and said, ‘Mais je vous assure qu’il est fort poli’; +to which I answered, ‘Je le crois bien, vis-a-vis des Lapons vos amis; je +vous recuse pour juge, jusqu’a ce que vous ayez ete delaponne, au moins +dix ans, parmi les honnetes gens’. These testimonies in your favor are +such as perhaps you are satisfied with, and think sufficient; but I am +not; they are only the cold depositions of disinterested and unconcerned +witnesses, upon a strict examination. When, upon a trial, a man calls +witnesses to his character, and that those witnesses only say that they +never heard, nor do not know any ill of him, it intimates at best a +neutral and insignificant, though innocent character. Now I want, and you +ought to endeavor, that ‘les agremens, les graces, les attentions’, etc., +should be a distinguishing part of your character, and specified of you +by people unasked. I wish to hear people say of you, ‘Ah qu’il est +aimable! Quelles manieres, quelles graces, quel art de Claire’! Nature, +thank God, has given you all the powers necessary; and if she has not +yet, I hope in God she will give you the will of exerting them. + +I have lately read with great pleasure Voltaire’s two little histories of +‘Les Croisades’, and ‘l’Esprit Humain’; which I recommend to your +perusal, if you have not already read them. They are bound up with a most +poor performance called ‘Micromegas’, which is said to be Voltaire’s too, +but I cannot believe it, it is so very unworthy of him; it consists only +of thoughts stolen from Swift, but miserably mangled and disfigured. But +his history of the ‘Croisades’ shows, in a very short and strong light, +the most immoral and wicked scheme that was ever contrived by knaves, and +executed by madmen and fools, against humanity. There is a strange but +never-failing relation between honest madmen and skillful knaves; and +whenever one meets with collected numbers of the former, one may be very +sure that they are secretly directed by the latter. The popes, who have +generally been both the ablest and the greatest knaves in Europe, wanted +all the power and money of the East; for they had all that was in Europe +already. The times and the minds favored their design, for they were dark +and uniformed; and Peter the Hermit, at once a knave and a madman, was a +fine papal tool for so wild and wicked an undertaking. I wish we had good +histories of every part of Europe, and indeed of the world, written upon +the plan of Voltaire’s ‘de l’Esprit Humain’; for, I own, I am provoked at +the contempt which most historians show for humanity in general: one +would think by them that the whole human species consisted but of about a +hundred and fifty people, called and dignified (commonly very +undeservedly too) by the titles of emperors, kings, popes, generals, and +ministers. + +I have never seen in any of the newspapers any mention of the affairs of +the Cevennes, or Grenoble, which you gave me an account of some time ago; +and the Duke de Mirepoix pretends, at least, to know nothing of either. +Were they false reports? or does the French court choose to stifle them? +I hope that they are both true, because I am very willing that the cares +of the French government should be employed and confined to themselves. + +Your friend, the Electress Palatine, has sent me six wild boars’ heads, +and other ‘pieces de sa chasse’, in return for the fans, which she +approved of extremely. This present was signified to me by one Mr. +Harold, who wrote me a letter in very indifferent English; I suppose he +is a Dane who has been in England. + +Mr. Harte came to town yesterday, and dined with me to-day. We talked you +over; and I can assure you, that though a parson, and no member ‘du beau +monde’, he thinks all the most shining accomplishments of it full as +necessary for you as I do. His expression was, THAT IS ALL THAT HE WANTS; +BUT IF HE WANTS THAT, CONSIDERING HIS SITUATION AND DESTINATION, HE MIGHT +AS WELL WANT EVERYTHING ELSE. + +This is the day when people reciprocally offer and receive the kindest +and the warmest wishes, though, in general, without meaning them on one +side, or believing them on the other. They are formed by the head, in +compliance with custom, though disavowed by the heart, in consequence of +nature. His wishes upon this occasion are the best that are the best +turned; you do not, I am sure, doubt the truth of mine, and therefore I +will express them with a Quaker-like simplicity. May this new year be a +very new one indeed to you; may you put off the old, and put on the new +man! but I mean the outward, not the inward man. With this alteration, I +might justly sum up all my wishes for you in these words: + + Dii tibi dent annos, de to nam caetera sumes. + +This minute, I receive your letter of the 26th past, which gives me a +very disagreeable reason for your late silence. By the symptoms which you +mention of your illness, I both hope and believe that it was wholly owing +to your own want of care. You are rather inclined to be fat, you have +naturally a good stomach, and you eat at the best tables; which must of +course make you plethoric: and upon my word you will be very subject to +these accidents, if you will not, from time to time, when you find +yourself full, heated, or your head aching, take some little, easy, +preventative purge, that would not confine you; such as chewing a little +rhubarb when you go to bed at night; or some senna tea in the morning. +You do very well to live extremely low, for some time; and I could wish, +though I do not expect it, that you would take one gentle vomit; for +those giddinesses and swimmings in the head always proceed from some +foulness of the stomach. However, upon the whole, I am very glad that +your old complaint has not mixed itself with this, which I am fully +convinced arises simply from your own negligence. Adieu. + +I am sorry for Monsieur Kurze, upon his sister’s account. + + + + +LETTER CLXXXVI + +LONDON, January 15, 1753 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I never think my time so well employed, as when I think +it employed to your advantage. You have long had the greatest share of +it; you now engross it. The moment is now decisive; the piece is going to +be exhibited to the public; the mere out lines and the general coloring +are not sufficient to attract the eyes and to secure applause; but the +last finishing, artful, and delicate strokes are necessary. Skillful +judges will discern and acknowledge their merit; the ignorant will, +without knowing why, feel their power. In that view, I have thrown +together, for your perusal, some maxims; or, to speak more properly, +observations on men and things; for I have no merit as to the invention: +I am no system monger; and, instead of giving way to my imagination, I +have only consulted my memory; and my conclusions are all drawn from +facts, not from fancy. Most maxim mongers have preferred the prettiness +to the justness of a thought, and the turn to the truth; but I have +refused myself to everything that my own experience did not justify and +confirm. I wish you would consider them seriously, and separately, and +recur to them again ‘pro re nata’ in similar cases. Young men are as apt +to think themselves wise enough, as drunken men are to think themselves +sober enough. They look upon spirit to be a much better thing than +experience; which they call coldness. They are but half mistaken; for +though spirit, without experience, is dangerous, experience, without +spirit, is languid and defective. Their union, which is very rare, is +perfection; you may join them, if you please; for all my experience is at +your service; and I do not desire one grain of your spirit in return. Use +them both, and let them reciprocally animate and check each other. I mean +here, by the spirit of youth, only the vivacity and presumption of youth, +which hinder them from seeing the difficulties or dangers of an +undertaking, but I do not mean what the silly vulgar call spirit, by +which they are captious, jealous of their rank, suspicious of being +undervalued, and tart (as they call it) in their repartees, upon the +slightest occasions. This is an evil, and a very silly spirit, which +should be driven out, and transferred to an herd of swine. This is not +the spirit of a man of fashion, who has kept good company. People of an +ordinary, low education, when they happen to fail into good company, +imagine themselves the only object of its attention; if the company +whispers, it is, to be sure, concerning them; if they laugh, it is at +them; and if anything ambiguous, that by the most forced interpretation +can be applied to them, happens to be said, they are convinced that it +was meant at them; upon which they grow out of countenance first, and +then angry. This mistake is very well ridiculed in the “Stratagem,” where +Scrub says, I AM SURE THEY TALKED OF ME FOR THEY LAUGHED CONSUMEDLY. A +well-bred man seldom thinks, but never seems to think himself slighted, +undervalued, or laughed at in company, unless where it is so plainly +marked out, that his honor obliges him to resent it in a proper manner; +‘mais les honnetes gens ne se boudent jamais’. I will admit that it is +very difficult to command one’s self enough, to behave with ease, +frankness, and good-breeding toward those, who one knows dislike, slight, +and injure one, as far as they can, without personal consequences; but I +assert that it is absolutely necessary to do it: you must embrace the man +you hate, if you cannot be justified in knocking him down; for otherwise +you avow the injury which you cannot revenge. A prudent cuckold (and +there are many such at Paris) pockets his horns when he cannot gore with +them; and will not add to the triumph of his maker by only butting with +them ineffectually. A seeming ignorance is very often a most necessary +part of worldly knowledge. It is, for instance, commonly advisable to +seem ignorant of what people offer to tell you; and when they say, Have +you not heard of such a thing? to answer No, and to let them go on; +though you know it already. Some have a pleasure in telling it, because +they think that they tell it well; others have a pride in it, as being +the sagacious discoverers; and many have a vanity in showing that they +have been, though very undeservedly, trusted; all these would be +disappointed, and consequently displeased, if you said Yes. Seem always +ignorant (unless to one’s most intimate friend) of all matters of private +scandal and defamation, though you should hear them a thousand times; for +the parties affected always look upon the receiver to be almost as bad as +the thief: and, whenever they become the topic of conversation seem to be +a skeptic, though you are really a serious believer; and always take the +extenuating part. But all this seeming ignorance should be joined to +thorough and extensive private informations: and, indeed, it is the best +method of procuring them; for most people have such a vanity in showing a +superiority over others, though but for a moment, and in the merest +trifles, that they will tell you what they should not, rather than not +show that they can tell what you did not know; besides that such seeming +ignorance will make you pass for incurious and consequently undesigning. +However, fish for facts, and take pains to be well informed of everything +that passes; but fish judiciously, and not always, nor indeed often, in +the shape of direct questions, which always put people upon their guard, +and, often repeated, grow tiresome. But sometimes take the things that +you would know for granted; upon which somebody will, kindly and +officiously, set you right: sometimes say that you have heard so and so; +and at other times seem to know more than you do, in order to know all +that you want; but avoid direct questioning as much as you can. All these +necessary arts of the world require constant attention, presence of mind, +and coolness. Achilles, though invulnerable, never went to battle but +completely armed. Courts are to be the theatres of your wars, where you +should be always as completely armed, and even with the addition of a +heel-piece. The least inattention, the least DISTRACTION, may prove +fatal. I would fain see you what pedants call ‘omnis homo’, and what Pope +much better calls ALL-ACCOMPLISHED: you have the means in your power; add +the will; and you may bring it about. The vulgar have a coarse saying, of +SPOILING A SHIP FOR A HALFPENNY WORTH OF TAR; prevent the application by +providing the tar: it is very easily to be had in comparison with what +you have already got. + +The fine Mrs. Pitt, who it seems saw you often at Paris, speaking of you +the other day, said, in French, for she speaks little English, . . . +whether it is that you did not pay the homage due to her beauty, or that +it did not strike you as it does others, I cannot determine; but I hope +she had some other reason than truth for saying it. I will suppose that +you did not care a pin for her; but, however, she surely deserved a +degree of propitiatory adoration from you, which I am afraid you +neglected. Had I been in your case, I should have endeavored, at least, +to have supplanted Mr. Mackay in his office of nocturnal reader to her. I +played at cards, two days ago, with your friend Mrs. Fitzgerald, and her +most sublime mother, Mrs. Seagrave; they both inquired after you; and +Mrs. Fitzgerald said, she hoped you went on with your dancing; I said, +Yes, and that you assured me, you had made such considerable improvements +in it, that you had now learned to stand still, and even upright. Your +‘virtuosa’, la Signora Vestri, sung here the other day, with great +applause: I presume you are INTIMATELY acquainted with her merit. Good +night to you, whoever you pass it with. + +I have this moment received a packet, sealed with your seal, though not +directed by your hand, for Lady Hervey. No letter from you! Are you not +well? + + + + +LETTER CLXXXVII + +LONDON, May 27, O. S. 1753. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this day been tired, jaded, nay, tormented, by the +company of a most worthy, sensible, and learned man, a near relation of +mine, who dined and passed the evening with me. This seems a paradox, but +is a plain truth; he has no knowledge of the world, no manners, no +address; far from talking without book, as is commonly said of people who +talk sillily, he only talks by book; which in general conversation is ten +times worse. He has formed in his own closet from books, certain systems +of everything, argues tenaciously upon those principles, and is both +surprised and angry at whatever deviates from them. His theories are +good, but, unfortunately, are all impracticable. Why? because he has only +read and not conversed. He is acquainted with books, and an absolute +stranger to men. Laboring with his matter, he is delivered of it with +pangs; he hesitates, stops in his utterance, and always expresses himself +inelegantly. His actions are all ungraceful; so that, with all his merit +and knowledge, I would rather converse six hours with the most frivolous +tittle-tattle woman who knew something of the world, than with him. The +preposterous notions of a systematical man who does not know the world, +tire the patience of a man who does. It would be endless to correct his +mistakes, nor would he take it kindly: for he has considered everything +deliberately, and is very sure that he is in the right. Impropriety is a +characteristic, and a never-failing one, of these people. Regardless, +because ignorant, of customs and manners, they violate them every moment. +They often shock, though they never mean to offend: never attending +either to the general character, or the particular distinguishing +circumstances of the people to whom, or before whom they talk; whereas +the knowledge of the world teaches one, that the very same things which +are exceedingly right and proper in one company, time and place, are +exceedingly absurd in others. In short, a man who has great knowledge, +from experience and observation, of the characters, customs, and manners +of mankind, is a being as different from, and as superior to, a man of +mere book and systematical knowledge, as a well-managed horse is to an +ass. Study, therefore, cultivate, and frequent men and women; not only in +their outward, and consequently, guarded, but in their interior, +domestic, and consequently less disguised, characters and manners. Take +your notions of things, as by observation and experience you find they +really are, and not as you read that they are or should be; for they +never are quite what they should be. For this purpose do not content +yourself with general and common acquaintance; but wherever you can, +establish yourself, with a kind of domestic familiarity, in good houses. +For instance, go again to Orli, for two or three days, and so at two or +three ‘reprises’. Go and stay two or three days at a time at Versailles, +and improve and extend the acquaintance you have there. Be at home at St. +Cloud; and, whenever any private person of fashion invites you to, pass a +few days at his country-house, accept of the invitation. This will +necessarily give you a versatility of mind, and a facility to adopt +various manners and customs; for everybody desires to please those in +whose house they are; and people are only to be pleased in their own way. +Nothing is more engaging than a cheerful and easy conformity to people’s +particular manners, habits, and even weaknesses; nothing (to use a vulgar +expression) should come amiss to a young fellow. He should be, for good +purposes, what Alcibiades was commonly for bad ones, a Proteus, assuming +with ease, and wearing with cheerfulness, any shape. Heat, cold, luxury, +abstinence, gravity, gayety, ceremony, easiness, learning, trifling, +business, and pleasure, are modes which he should be able to take, lay +aside, or change occasionally, with as much ease as he would take or lay +aside his hat. All this is only to be acquired by use and knowledge of +the world, by keeping a great deal of company, analyzing every character, +and insinuating yourself into the familiarity of various acquaintance. A +right, a generous ambition to make a figure in the world, necessarily +gives the desire of pleasing; the desire of pleasing points out, to a +great degree, the means of doing it; and the art of pleasing is, in +truth, the art of rising, of distinguishing one’s self, of making a +figure and a fortune in the world. But without pleasing, without the +graces, as I have told you a thousand times, ‘ogni fatica e vana’. You +are now but nineteen, an age at which most of your countrymen are +illiberally getting drunk in port, at the university. You have greatly +got the start of them in learning; and if you can equally get the start +of them in the knowledge and manners of the world, you may be very sure +of outrunning them in court and parliament, as you set out much earlier +than they. They generally begin but to see the world at one-and-twenty; +you will by that age have seen all Europe. They set out upon their +travels unlicked cubs: and in their travels they only lick one another, +for they seldom go into any other company. They know nothing but the +English world, and the worst part of that too, and generally very little +of any but the English language; and they come home, at three or +four-and-twenty, refined and polished (as is said in one of Congreve’s +plays) like Dutch skippers from a whale-fishing. The care which has been +taken of you, and (to do you justice) the care that you have taken of +yourself, has left you, at the age of nineteen only, nothing to acquire +but the knowledge of the world, manners, address, and those exterior +accomplishments. But they are great and necessary acquisitions, to those +who have sense enough to know their true value; and your getting them +before you are one-and-twenty, and before you enter upon the active and +shining scene of life, will give you such an advantage over all your +contemporaries, that they cannot overtake you: they must be distanced. +You may probably be placed about a young prince, who will probably be a +young king. There all the various arts of pleasing, the engaging address, +the versatility of manners, the brillant, the graces, will outweigh, and +yet outrun all solid knowledge and unpolished merit. Oil yourself, +therefore, and be both supple and shining, for that race, if you would be +first, or early at the goal. Ladies will most probably too have something +to say there; and those who are best with them will probably be best +SOMEWHERE ELSE. Labor this great point, my dear child, indefatigably; +attend to the very smallest parts, the minutest graces, the most trifling +circumstances, that can possibly concur in forming the shining character +of a complete gentleman, ‘un galant homme, un homme de cour’, a man of +business and pleasure; ‘estime des hommes, recherche des femmes, aime de +tout le monde’. In this view, observe the shining part of every man of +fashion, who is liked and esteemed; attend to, and imitate that +particular accomplishment for which you hear him chiefly celebrated and +distinguished: then collect those various parts, and make yourself a +mosiac of the whole. No one body possesses everything, and almost +everybody possesses some one thing worthy of imitation: only choose your +models well; and in order to do so, choose by your ear more than by your +eye. The best model is always that which is most universally allowed to +be the best, though in strictness it may possibly not be so. We must take +most things as they are, we cannot make them what we would, nor often +what they should be; and where moral duties are not concerned, it is more +prudent to follow than to attempt to lead. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXXXVIII + +BATH, October 3, 1753 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: You have set out well at The Hague; you are in love with +Madame Munter, which I am very glad of: you are in the fine company +there, and I hope one of it: for it is not enough, at your age, to be +merely in good company; but you should, by your address and attentions, +make that good company think you one of them. There is a tribute due to +beauty, even independently of further views; which tribute I hope you +paid with alacrity to Madame Munter and Madame Degenfeldt: depend upon +it, they expected it, and were offended in proportion as that tribute +seemed either unwillingly or scantily paid. I believe my friend +Kreuningen admits nobody now to his table, for fear of their +communicating the plague to him, or at least the bite of a mad dog. Pray +profit of the entrees libres that the French Ambassador has given you; +frequent him, and SPEAK to him. I think you will not do amiss to call +upon Mr. Burrish, at Aix-la-Chapelle, since it is so little out of your +way; and you will do still better, if you would, which I know you will +not, drink those waters for five or six days only, to scour your stomach +and bowels a little; I am sure it would do you a great deal of good Mr. +Burrish can, doubtless, give you the best letters to Munich; and he will +naturally give you some to Comte Preysing, or Comte Sinsheim, and such +sort of grave people; but I could wish that you would ask him for some to +young fellows of pleasure, or fashionable coquettes, that, you may be +‘dans l’honnete debauche de Munich’. A propos of your future motions; I +leave you in a great measure the master of them, so shall only suggest my +thoughts to you upon that subject. + +You have three electoral courts in view, Bonn, Munich, and Manheim. I +would advise you to see two of them rather cursorily, and fix your +tabernacle at the third, whichever that may be, for a considerable time. +For instance, should you choose (as I fancy you will), to make Manheim +the place of your residence, stay only ten or twelve days at Bonn, and as +long at Munich, and then go and fix at Manheim; and so, vice versa, if +you should like Bonn or Munich better than you think you would Manheim, +make that the place of your residence, and only visit the other two. It +is certain that no man can be much pleased himself, or please others +much, in any place where he is only a bird of passage for eight or ten +days; neither party thinking it worth while to make an acquaintance, +still less to form any connection, for so short a time; but when months +are the case, a man may domesticate himself pretty well, and very soon +not be looked upon as a stranger. This is the real utility of traveling, +when, by contracting a familiarity at any place, you get into the inside +of it, and see it in its undress. That is the only way of knowing the +customs, the manners, and all the little characteristical peculiarities +that distinguish one place from another; but then this familiarity is not +to be brought about by cold, formal visits of half an hour: no; you must +show a willingness, a desire, an impatience of forming connections, ‘il +faut s’y preter, et y mettre du liant, du desir de plaire. Whatever you +do approve, you must be lavish in your praises of; and you must learn to +commend what you do not approve of, if it is approved of there. You are +not much given to praise, I know; but it is because you do not yet know +how extremely people are engaged by a seeming sanction to their own +opinions, prejudices, and weaknesses, even in the merest trifles. Our +self-love is mortified when we think our opinions, and even our tastes, +customs, and dresses, either arraigned or condemned; as on the contrary, +it is tickled and flattered by approbation. I will give you a remarkable +instance of this kind. The famous Earl of Shaftesbury, in the flagitious +reign of Charles the Second, while he was Chancellor, had a mind to be a +favorite, as well as a minister of the King; in order, therefore, to +please his Majesty, whose prevailing passion was women, my Lord kept a +w----e, whom he had no occasion for, and made no manner of use of. The +King soon heard of it, and asked him if it was true; he owned it was; but +that, though he kept that one woman, he had several others besides, for +he loved variety. A few days afterward, the King, at his public levee, +saw Lord Shaftesbury at some distance, and said in the circle, “One would +not think that that little, weak man is the greatest whore-master in +England; but I can assure you that he is.” Upon Lord Shaftesbury’s coming +into the circle, there was a general smile; the King said, “This is +concerning you, my Lord.”--“Me, sir?” answered the Chancellor, with some +surprise. “Yes, you,” answered the King; “for I had just said that you +were the greatest whore-master in England! Is it not true?”--“Of a +SUBJECT, Sir,” replied Lord Shaftesbury, “perhaps I am.” It is the same +in everything; we think a difference of opinion, of conduct, of manners, +a tacit reproach, at least, upon our own; we must therefore use ourselves +to a ready conformity to whatever is neither criminal nor dishonorable. +Whoever differs from any general custom, is supposed both to think, and +proclaim himself wiser than the rest of the world: which the rest of the +world cannot bear, especially in a young man. A young fellow is always +forgiven and often applauded, when he carries a fashion to an excess; but +never if he stops short of it. The first is ascribed to youth and fire; +but the latter is imputed to an affectation of singularity or +superiority. At your age, one is allowed to ‘outrer’ fashion, dress, +vivacity, gallantry, etc., but by no means to be behindhand in any one of +them. And one may apply to youth in this case, ‘Si non errasset, fecerat +ille minus’. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CLXXXIX + +BATH, October 19, 1753 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Of all the various ingredients that compose the useful +and necessary art of pleasing, no one is so effectual and engaging as +that gentleness, that ‘douceur’ of countenance and manner, to which you +are no stranger, though (God knows why) a sworn enemy. Other people take +great pains to conceal or disguise their natural imperfections; some by +the make of their clothes and other arts, endeavor to conceal the defects +of their shape; women, who unfortunately have natural bad complexions, +lay on good ones; and both men and women upon whom unkind nature has +inflicted a surliness and ferocity of countenance, do at least all they +can, though often without success, to soften and mitigate it; they affect +‘douceur’, and aim at smiles, though often in the attempt, like the Devil +in Milton, they GRIN HORRIBLY A GHASTLY SMILE. But you are the only +person I ever knew in the whole course of my life, who not only disdain, +but absolutely reject and disguise a great advantage that nature has +kindly granted. You easily guess I mean COUNTENANCE; for she has given +you a very pleasing one; but you beg to be excused, you will not accept +it; but on the contrary, take singular pains to put on the most +‘funeste’, forbidding, and unpleasing one that can possibly be imagined. +This one would think impossible; but you know it to be true. If you +imagine that it gives you a manly, thoughtful, and decisive air, as some, +though very few of your countrymen do, you are most exceedingly mistaken; +for it is at best the air of a German corporal, part of whose exercise is +to look fierce, and to ‘blasemeer-op’. You will say, perhaps, What, am I +always to be studying my countenance, in order to wear this ‘douceur’? I +answer, No; do it but for a fortnight, and you never will have occasion +to think of it more. Take but half the pains to recover the countenance +that nature gave you, that you must have taken to disguise and deform it +as you have, and the business will be done. Accustom your eyes to a +certain softness, of which they are very capable, and your face to +smiles, which become it more than most faces I know. Give all your +motions, too, an air of ‘douceur’, which is directly the reverse of their +present celerity and rapidity. I wish you would adopt a little of ‘l’air +du Couvent’ (you very well know what I mean) to a certain degree; it has +something extremely engaging; there is a mixture of benevolence, +affection, and unction in it; it is frequently really sincere, but is +almost always thought so, and consequently pleasing. Will you call this +trouble? It will not be half an hour’s trouble to you in a week’s time. +But suppose it be, pray tell me, why did you give yourself the trouble of +learning to dance so well as you do? It is neither a religious, moral, or +civil duty. You must own, that you did it then singly to please, and you +were, in the right on’t. Why do you wear fine clothes, and curl your +hair? Both are troublesome; lank locks, and plain flimsy rags are much +easier. This then you also do in order to please, and you do very right. +But then, for God’s sake, reason and act consequentially; and endeavor to +please in other things too, still more essential; and without which the +trouble you have taken in those is wholly thrown away. You show your +dancing, perhaps six times a year, at most; but you show your countenance +and your common motions every day, and all day. Which then, I appeal to +yourself, ought you to think of the most, and care to render easy, +graceful, and engaging? Douceur of countenance and gesture can alone make +them so. You are by no means ill-natured; and would you then most +unjustly be reckoned so? Yet your common countenance intimates, and would +make anybody who did not know you, believe it. ‘A propos’ of this, I must +tell you what was said the other day to a fine lady whom you know, who is +very good-natured in truth, but whose common countenance implies +ill-nature, even to brutality. It was Miss H----n, Lady M--y’s niece, +whom you have seen both at Blackheath and at Lady Hervey’s. Lady M--y was +saying to me that you had a very engaging countenance when you had a mind +to it, but that you had not always that mind; upon which Miss H----n +said, that she liked your countenance best, when it was as glum as her +own. Why then, replied Lady M--y, you two should marry; for while you +both wear your worst countenances, nobody else will venture upon either +of you; and they call her now Mrs. Stanhope. To complete this ‘douceur’ +of countenance and motions, which I so earnestly recommend to you, you +should carry it also to your expressions and manner of thinking, ‘mettez +y toujours de l’affectueux de l’onction’; take the gentle, the favorable, +the indulgent side of most questions. I own that the manly and sublime +John Trott, your countryman, seldom does; but, to show his spirit and +decision, takes the rough and harsh side, which he generally adorns with +an oath, to seem more formidable. This he only thinks fine; for to do +John justice, he is commonly as good-natured as anybody. These are among +the many little things which you have not, and I have, lived long enough +in the world to know of what infinite consequence they are in the course +of life. Reason then, I repeat it again, within yourself, +CONSEQUENTIALLY; and let not the pains you have taken, and still take, to +please in some things be a ‘pure perte’, by your negligence of, and +inattention to others of much less trouble, and much more consequence. + +I have been of late much engaged, or rather bewildered, in Oriental +history, particularly that of the Jews, since the destruction of their +temple, and their dispersion by Titus; but the confusion and uncertainty +of the whole, and the monstrous extravagances and falsehoods of the +greatest part of it, disgusted me extremely. Their Talmud, their Mischna, +their Targums, and other traditions and writings of their Rabbins and +Doctors, who were most of them Cabalists, are really more extravagant and +absurd, if possible, than all that you have read in Comte de Gabalis; and +indeed most of his stuff is taken from them. Take this sample of their +nonsense, which is transmitted in the writings of one of their most +considerable Rabbins: “One Abas Saul, a man of ten feet high, was digging +a grave, and happened to find the eye of Goliah, in which he thought +proper to bury himself, and so he did, all but his head, which the +Giant’s eye was unfortunately not quite deep enough to receive.” This, I +assure you, is the most modest lie of ten thousand. I have also read the +Turkish history which, excepting the religious part, is not fabulous, +though very possibly not true. For the Turks, having no notion of letters +and being, even by their religion, forbid the use of them, except for +reading and transcribing the Koran, they have no historians of their own, +nor any authentic records nor memorials for other historians to work +upon; so that what histories we have of that country are written by +foreigners; as Platina, Sir Paul Rycaut, Prince Cantimer, etc., or else +snatches only of particular and short periods, by some who happened to +reside there at those times; such as Busbequius, whom I have just +finished. I like him, as far as he goes, much the best of any of them: +but then his account is, properly, only an account of his own Embassy, +from the Emperor Charles the Fifth to Solyman the Magnificent. However, +there he gives, episodically, the best account I know of the customs and +manners of the Turks, and of the nature of that government, which is a +most extraordinary one. For, despotic as it always seems, and sometimes +is, it is in truth a military republic, and the real power resides in the +Janissaries; who sometimes order their Sultan to strangle his Vizir, and +sometimes the Vizir to depose or strangle his Sultan, according as they +happen to be angry at the one or the other. I own I am glad that the +capital strangler should, in his turn, be STRANGLE-ABLE, and now and then +strangled; for I know of no brute so fierce, nor no criminal so guilty, +as the creature called a Sovereign, whether King, Sultan, or Sophy, who +thinks himself, either by divine or human right, vested with an absolute +power of destroying his fellow-creatures; or who, without inquiring into +his right, lawlessly exerts that power. The most excusable of all those +human monsters are the Turks, whose religion teaches them inevitable +fatalism. A propos of the Turks, my Loyola, I pretend, is superior to +your Sultan. Perhaps you think this impossible, and wonder who this +Loyola is. Know then, that I have had a Barbet brought me from France, so +exactly like the Sultan that he has been mistaken for him several times; +only his snout is shorter, and his ears longer than the Sultan’s. He has +also the acquired knowledge of the Sultan; and I am apt to think that he +studied under the same master at Paris. His habit and his white band show +him to be an ecclesiastic; and his begging, which he does very earnestly, +proves him to be of a mendicant order; which, added to his flattery and +insinuation, make him supposed to be a Jesuit, and have acquired him the +name of Loyola. I must not omit too, that when he breaks wind he smells +exactly like the Sultan. + +I do not yet hear one jot the better for all my bathings and pumpings, +though I have been here already full half my time; I consequently go very +little into company, being very little fit for any. I hope you keep +company enough for us both; you will get more by that, than I shall by +all my reading. I read simply to amuse myself and fill up my time, of +which I have too much; but you have two much better reasons for going +into company, pleasure and profit. May you find a great deal of both in a +great deal of company! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXC + +LONDON, November 20, 1753 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Two mails are now due from Holland, so that I have no +letter from you to acknowledge; but that, you know, by long experience, +does not hinder my writing to you. I always receive your letters with +pleasure; but I mean, and endeavor, that you should receive mine with +some profit; preferring always your advantage to my own pleasure. + +If you find yourself well settled and naturalized at Manheim, stay there +some time, and do not leave a certain for an uncertain good; but if you +think you shall be as well, or better established at Munich, go there as +soon as you please; and if disappointed, you can always return to Manheim +I mentioned, in a former letter, your passing the Carnival at Berlin, +which I think may be both useful and pleasing to you; however, do as you +will; but let me know what you resolve: That King and that country have, +and will have, so great a share in the affairs of Europe, that they are +well worth being thoroughly known. + +Whether, where you are now, or ever may be hereafter, you speak French, +German, or English most, I earnestly recommend to you a particular +attention to the propriety and elegance of your style; employ the best +words you can find in the language, avoid cacophony, and make your +periods as harmonious as you can. I need not, I am sure, tell you what +you must often have felt, how much the elegance of diction adorns the +best thoughts, and palliates the worst. In the House of Commons it is +almost everything; and, indeed, in every assembly, whether public or +private. Words, which are the dress of thoughts, deserve surely more care +than clothes, which are only the dress of the person, and which, however, +ought to have their share of attention. If you attend to your style in +any one language, it will give you a habit of attending to it in every +other; and if once you speak either French or German very elegantly, you +will afterward speak much the better English for it. I repeat it to you +again, for at least the thousandth time, exert your whole attention now +in acquiring the ornamental parts of character. People know very little +of the world, and talk nonsense, when they talk of plainness and solidity +unadorned: they will do in nothing; mankind has been long out of a state +of nature, and the golden age of native simplicity will never return. +Whether for the better or the worse, no matter; but we are refined; and +plain manners, plain dress, and plain diction, would as little do in +life, as acorns, herbage, and the water of the neighboring spring, would +do at table. Some people are just come, who interrupt me in the middle of +my sermon; so good-night. + + + + +LETTER CXCI + +LONDON, November 26, 1753 + +DEAR FRIEND: Fine doings at Manheim! If one may give credit to the weekly +histories of Monsieur Roderigue, the finest writer among the moderns; not +only ‘des chasses brillantes et nombreuses des operas ou les acteurs se +surpassent les jours des Saints de L. L. A. A. E. E. serenissimes +celebres; en grand gala’; but to crown the whole, Monsieur Zuchmantel is +happily arrived, and Monsieur Wartenslebeu hourly expected. I hope that +you are ‘pars magna’ of all these delights; though, as Noll Bluff says, +in the “Old Bachelor,” THAT RASCALLY GAZETTEER TAKES NO MORE NOTICE OF +YOU THAN IF YOU WERE NOT IN THE LAND OF THE LIVING. I should think that +he might at least have taken notice that in these rejoicings you appeared +with a rejoicing, and not a gloomy countenance; and you distinguished +yourself in that numerous and shining company, by your air, dress, +address, and attentions. If this was the case, as I will both hope and +suppose it was, I will, if you require it, have him written to, to do you +justice in his next ‘supplement’. Seriously, I am very glad that you are +whirled in that ‘tourbillon’ of pleasures; they smooth, polish, and rub +off rough corners: perhaps too, you have some particular COLLISION, which +is still more effectual. + +Schannat’s “History of the Palatinate” was, I find, written originally in +German, in which language I suppose it is that you have read it; but, as +I must humbly content myself with the French translation, Vaillant has +sent for it for me from Holland, so that I have not yet read it. While +you are in the Palatinate, you do very well to read everything relative +to it; you will do still better if you make that reading the foundation +of your inquiries into the more minute circumstances and anecdotes of +that country, whenever you are in company with informed and knowing +people. + +The Ministers here, intimidated on the absurd and groundless clamors of +the mob, have, very weakly in my mind, repealed, this session, the bill +which they had passed in the last for rendering Jews capable of being +naturalized by subsequent acts of parliament. The clamorers triumph, and +will doubtless make further demands, which, if not granted, this piece of +complaisance will soon be forgotten. Nothing is truer in politics, than +this reflection of the Cardinal de Retz, ‘Que le peuple craint toujours +quand on ne le craint pas’; and consequently they grow unreasonable and +insolent, when they find that they are feared. Wise and honest governors +will never, if they can help it, give the people just cause to complain; +but then, on the other hand, they will firmly withstand groundless +clamor. Besides that this noise against the Jew bill proceeds from that +narrow mobspirit of INTOLERATION in religious, and inhospitality in civil +matters; both which all wise governments should oppose. + +The confusion in France increases daily, as, no doubt, you are informed +where you are. There is an answer of the clergy to the remonstrances of +the parliament, lately published, which was sent me by the last post from +France, and which I would have sent you, inclosed in this, were it not +too bulky. Very probably you may see it at Manheim, from the French +Minister: it is very well worth your reading, being most artfully and +plausibly written, though founded upon false principles; the ‘jus +divinum’ of the clergy, and consequently their supremacy in all matters +of faith and doctrine are asserted; both which I absolutely deny. Were +those two points allowed the clergy of any country whatsoever, they must +necessarily govern that country absolutely; everything being, directly or +indirectly, relative to faith or doctrine; and whoever is supposed to +have the power of saving and damning souls to all eternity (which power +the clergy pretend to), will be much more considered, and better obeyed, +than any civil power that forms no pretensions beyond this world. +Whereas, in truth, the clergy in every country are, like all other +subjects, dependent upon the supreme legislative power, and are appointed +by that power under whatever restrictions and limitations it pleases, to +keep up decency and decorum in the church, just as constables are to keep +peace in the parish. This Fra Paolo has clearly proved, even upon their +own principles of the Old and New Testament, in his book ‘de Beneficiis’, +which I recommend to you to read with attention; it is short. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXCII + +LONDON, December 25, 1753 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday again I received two letters at once from you, +the one of the 7th, the other of the 15th, from Manheim. + +You never had in your life so good a reason for not writing, either to me +or to anybody else, as your sore finger lately furnished you. I believe +it was painful, and I am glad it is cured; but a sore finger, however +painful, is a much less evil than laziness, of either body or mind, and +attended by fewer ill consequences. + +I am very glad to hear that you were distinguished at the court of +Manheim from the rest of your countrymen and fellow-travelers: it is a +sign that you had better manners and address than they; for take it for +granted, the best-bred people will always be the best received wherever +they go. Good manners are the settled medium of social, as specie is of +commercial life; returns are equally expected for both; and people will +no more advance their civility to a bear, than their money to a bankrupt. +I really both hope and believe, that the German courts will do you a +great deal of good; their ceremony and restraint being the proper +correctives and antidotes for your negligence and inattention. I believe +they would not greatly relish your weltering in your own laziness, and an +easy chair; nor take it very kindly, if, when they spoke to you or you to +them, you looked another way, as much as to say, kiss my b----h. As they +give, so they require attention; and, by the way, take this maxim for an +undoubted truth, That no young man can possibly improve in any company, +for which he has not respect enough to be under some degree of restraint. + +I dare not trust to Meyssonier’s report of his Rhenish, his Burgundy not +having answered either his account or my expectations. I doubt, as a wine +merchant, he is the ‘perfidus caupo’, whatever he may be as a banker. I +shall therefore venture upon none of his wine; but delay making my +provision of Old Hock, till I go abroad myself next spring: as I told you +in the utmost secrecy, in my last, that I intend to do; and then probably +I may taste some that I like, and go upon sure ground. There is commonly +very good, both at Aix-la-Chapelle and Liege, where I formerly got some +excellent, which I carried with me to Spa, where I drank no other wine. + +As my letters to you frequently miscarry, I will repeat in this that part +of my last which related to your future motions. Whenever you shall be +tired of Berlin, go to Dresden; where Sir Charles Williams will be, who +will receive you with open arms. He dined with me to-day, and sets out +for Dresden in about six weeks. He spoke of you with great kindness and +impatience to see you again. He will trust and employ you in business +(and he is now in the whole secret of importance) till we fix our place +to meet in: which probably will be Spa. Wherever you are, inform yourself +minutely of, and attend particularly to the affairs of France; they grow +serious, and in my opinion will grow more and more so every day. The King +is despised and I do not wonder at it; but he has brought it about to be +hated at the same time, which seldom happens to the same man. His +ministers are known to be as disunited as incapable; he hesitates between +the Church and the parliaments, like the ass in the fable, that starved +between two hampers of hay: too much in love with his mistress to part +with her, and too much afraid of his soul to enjoy her; jealous of the +parliaments, who would support his authority; and a devoted bigot to the +Church, that would destroy it. The people are poor, consequently +discontented; those who have religion, are divided in their notions of +it; which is saying that they hate one another. The clergy never do +forgive; much less will they forgive the parliament; the parliament never +will forgive them. The army must, without doubt, take, in their own minds +at last, different parts in all these disputes, which upon occasion would +break out. Armies, though always the supporters and tools of absolute +power for the time being, are always the destroyers of it, too, by +frequently changing the hands in which they think proper to lodge it. +This was the case of the Praetorian bands, who deposed and murdered the +monsters they had raised to oppress mankind. The Janissaries in turkey, +and the regiments of guards in Russia, do the same now. The French nation +reasons freely, which they never did before, upon matters of religion and +government, and begin to be ‘sprejiudicati’; the officers do so too; in +short, all the symptoms, which I have ever met with in history previous +to great changes and revolutions in government, now exist, and daily +increase, in France. I am glad of it; the rest of Europe will be the +quieter, and have time to recover. England, I am sure, wants rest, for it +wants men and money; the Republic of the United Provinces wants both +still more; the other Powers cannot well dance, when neither France, nor +the maritime powers, can, as they used to do, pay the piper. The first +squabble in Europe, that I foresee, will be about the Crown of Poland, +should the present King die: and therefore I wish his Majesty a long life +and a merry Christmas. So much for foreign politics; but ‘a propos’ of +them, pray take care, while you are in those parts of Germany, to inform +yourself correctly of all the details, discussions, and agreements, which +the several wars, confiscations, bans, and treaties, occasioned between +the Bavarian and Palatine Electorates; they are interesting and curious. + +I shall not, upon the occasion of the approaching new year, repeat to you +the wishes which I continue to form for you; you know them all already, +and you know that it is absolutely in your power to satisfy most of them. +Among many other wishes, this is my most earnest one: That you would open +the new year with a most solemn and devout sacrifice to the Graces; who +never reject those that supplicate them with fervor; without them, let me +tell you, that your friend Dame Fortune will stand you in little stead; +may they all be your friends! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXCIII + +LONDON, January 15, 1754 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 26th past +from Munich. Since you are got so well out of the distress and dangers of +your journey from Manheim, I am glad that you were in them: + + “Condisce i diletti + Memorie di pene, + Ne sa che sia bene + Chi mal non soffri.” + +They were but little samples of the much greater distress and dangers +which you must expect to meet within your great, and I hope, long journey +through life. In some parts of it, flowers are scattered, with profusion, +the road is smooth, and the prospect pleasant: but in others (and I fear +the greater number) the road is rugged, beset with thorns and briars, and +cut by torrents. Gather the flowers in your way; but, at the same time, +guard against the briars that are either mixed with them, or that most +certainly succeed them. + +I thank you for your wild boar; who, now he is dead, I assure him, ‘se +laissera bien manger malgre qu’il en ait’; though I am not so sure that I +should have had that personal valor which so successfully distinguished +you in single combat with him, which made him bite the dust like Homer’s +heroes, and, to conclude my period sublimely, put him into that PICKLE, +from which I propose eating him. At the same time that I applaud your +valor, I must do justice to your modesty; which candidly admits that you +were not overmatched, and that your adversary was about your own age and +size. A Maracassin, being under a year old, would have been below your +indignation. ‘Bete de compagne’, being under two years old, was still, in +my opinion, below your glory; but I guess that your enemy was ‘un Ragot’, +that is, from two to three years old; an age and size which, between man +and boar, answer pretty well to yours. + +If accidents of bad roads or waters do not detain you at Munich, I do not +fancy that pleasures will: and I rather believe you will seek for, and +find them, at the Carnival at Berlin; in which supposition, I eventually +direct this letter to your banker there. While you are at Berlin (I +earnestly recommend it to you again and again) pray CARE to see, hear, +know, and mind, everything there. THE ABLEST PRINCE IN EUROPE is surely +an object that deserves attention; and the least thing that he does, like +the smallest sketches of the greatest painters, has its value, and a +considerable one too. + +Read with care the Code Frederick, and inform yourself of the good +effects of it in those parts of, his dominions where it has taken place, +and where it has banished the former chicanes, quirks, and quibbles of +the old law. Do not think any detail too minute or trifling for your +inquiry and observation. I wish that you could find one hour’s leisure +every day, to read some good Italian author, and to converse in that +language with our worthy friend Signor Angelo Cori; it would both refresh +and improve your Italian, which, of the many languages you know, I take +to be that in which you are the least perfect; but of which, too, you +already know enough to make yourself master of, with very little trouble, +whenever you please. + +Live, dwell, and grow at the several courts there; use them so much to +your face, that they may not look upon you as a stranger. Observe, and +take their ‘ton’, even to their affectations and follies; for such there +are, and perhaps should be, at all courts. Stay, in all events, at +Berlin, till I inform you of Sir Charles Williams’s arrival at Dresden; +where I suppose you would not care to be before him, and where you may go +as soon after him as ever you please. Your time there will neither be +unprofitably nor disagreeably spent; he will introduce you into all the +best company, though he can introduce you to none so good as his own. He +has of late applied himself very seriously to foreign affairs, especially +those of Saxony and Poland; he knows them perfectly well, and will tell +you what he knows. He always expresses, and I have good reason to believe +very sincerely, great kindness and affection for you. + +The works of the late Lord Bolingbroke are just published, and have +plunged me into philosophical studies; which hitherto I have not been +much used to, or delighted with; convinced of the futility of those +researches; but I have read his “Philosophical Essay” upon the extent of +human knowledge, which, by the way, makes two large quartos and a half. +He there shows very clearly, and with most splendid eloquence, what the +human mind can and cannot do; that our understandings are wisely +calculated for our place in this planet, and for the link which we form +in the universal chain of things; but that they are by no means capable +of that degree of knowledge, which our curiosity makes us search after, +and which our vanity makes us often believe we arrive at. I shall not +recommend to you the reading of that work; but, when you return hither, I +shall recommend to your frequent and diligent perusal all his tracts that +are relative to our history and constitution; upon which he throws +lights, and scatters graces, which no other writer has ever done. + +Reading, which was always a pleasure to me, in the time even of my +greatest dissipation, is now become my only refuge; and, I fear, I +indulge it too much at the expense of my eyes. But what can I do? I must +do something; I cannot bear absolute idleness; my ears grow every day +more useless to me, my eyes consequently more necessary; I will not hoard +them like a miser, but will rather risk the loss, than not enjoy the use +of them. + +Pray let me know all the particulars, not only of your reception at +Munich, but also at Berlin; at the latter, I believe, it will be a good +one; for his Prussian Majesty knows, that I have long been AN ADMIRER AND +RESPECTER OF HIS GREAT AND VARIOUS TALENTS. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXCIV + +LONDON, February 1, 1754 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, yesterday, yours of the 12th, from Munich; in +consequence of which, I direct this to you there, though I directed my +three last to Berlin, where I suppose you will find them at your arrival. +Since you are not only domesticated, but ‘niche’ at Munich, you are much +in the right to stay there. It is not by seeing places that one knows +them, but by familiar and daily conversations with the people of fashion. +I would not care to be in the place of that prodigy of beauty, whom you +are to drive ‘dans la course de Traineaux’; and I am apt to think you are +much more likely to break her bones, than she is, though ever so cruel, +to break your heart. Nay, I am not sure but that, according to all the +rules of gallantry, you are obliged to overturn her on purpose; in the +first place, for the chance of seeing her backside; in the next, for the +sake of the contrition and concern which it would give you an opportunity +of showing; and, lastly, upon account of all the ‘gentillesses et +epigrammes’, which it would naturally suggest. Voiture has made several +stanzas upon an accident of that kind, which happened to a lady of his +acquaintance. There is a great deal of wit in them, rather too much; for, +according to the taste of those times, they are full of what the Italians +call ‘concetti spiritosissimi’; the Spaniards ‘agudeze’; and we, +affectation and quaintness. I hope you have endeavored to suit your +‘Traineau’ to the character of the fair-one whom it is to contain. If she +is of an irascible, impetuous disposition (as fine women can sometimes +be), you will doubtless place her in the body of a lion, a tiger, a +dragon, or some tremendous beast of prey and fury; if she is a sublime +and stately beauty, which I think more probable (for unquestionably she +is ‘hogh gebohrne’), you will, I suppose, provide a magnificent swan or +proud peacock for her reception; but if she is all tenderness and +softness, you have, to be sure, taken care amorous doves and wanton +sparrows should seem to flutter round her. Proper mottos, I take it for +granted, that you have eventually prepared; but if not, you may find a +great many ready-made ones in ‘Les Entretiens d’Ariste et d’Eugene, sur +les Devises’, written by Pere Bouhours, and worth your reading at any +time. I will not say to you, upon this occasion, like the father in Ovid, + + “Parce, puer, stimulis, et fortius utere loris.” + +On the contrary, drive on briskly; it is not the chariot of the sun that +you drive, but you carry the sun in your chariot; consequently, the +faster it goes, the less it will be likely to scorch or consume. This is +Spanish enough, I am sure. + +If this finds you still at Munich, pray make many compliments from me to +Mr. Burrish, to whom I am very much obliged for all his kindness to you; +it is true, that while I had power I endeavored to serve him; but it is +as true too, that I served many others more, who have neither returned +nor remembered those services. + +I have been very ill this last fortnight, of your old Carniolian +complaint, the ‘arthritis vaga’; luckily, it did not fall upon my breast, +but seized on my right arm; there it fixed its seat of empire; but, as in +all tyrannical governments, the remotest parts felt their share of its +severity. Last post I was not able to hold a pen long enough to write to +you, and therefore desired Mr. Grevenkop to do it for me; but that letter +was directed to Berlin. My pain is now much abated, though I have still +some fine remains of it in my shoulder, where I fear it will tease me a +great while. I must be careful to take Horace’s advice, and consider +well, ‘Quid valeant humeri, quid ferre recusent’. + +Lady Chesterfield bids me make you her compliments, and assure you that +the music will be much more welcome to her with you, than without you. + +In some of my last letters, which were directed to, and will, I suppose, +wait for you at Berlin, I complimented you, and with justice, upon your +great improvement of late in the epistolary way, both with regard to the +style and the turn of your letters; your four or five last to me have +been very good ones, and one that you wrote to Mr. Harte, upon the new +year, was so pretty a one, and he was so much and so justly pleased with +it, that he sent it me from Windsor the instant he had read it. This +talent (and a most necessary one it is in the course of life) is to be +acquired by resolving, and taking pains to acquire it; and, indeed, so is +every talent except poetry, which is undoubtedly a gift. Think, +therefore, night and day, of the turn, the purity, the correctness, the +perspicuity, and the elegance of whatever you speak or write; take my +word for it, your labor will not be in vain, but greatly rewarded by the +harvest of praise and success which it will bring you. Delicacy of turn, +and elegance of style, are ornaments as necessary to common sense, as +attentions, address, and fashionable manners, are to common civility; +both may subsist without them, but then, without being of the least use +to the owner. The figure of a man is exactly the same in dirty rags, or +in the finest and best chosen clothes; but in which of the two he is the +most likely to please, and to be received in good company, I leave to you +to determine. + +Both my arm and my paper hint to me, to bid you good-night. + + + + +LETTER CXCV + +LONDON, February 12, 1754. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I take my aim, and let off this letter at you at Berlin; +I should be sorry it missed you, because I believe you will read it with +as much pleasure as I write it. It is to inform you, that, after some +difficulties and dangers, your seat in the new parliament is at last +absolutely secured, and that without opposition, or the least necessity +of your personal trouble or appearance. This success, I must further +inform you, is in a great degree owing to Mr. Eliot’s friendship to us +both; for he brings you in with himself at his surest borough. As it was +impossible to act with more zeal and friendship than Mr. Eliot has acted +in this whole affair, I desire that you will, by the very next post, +write him a letter of thanks, warm and young thanks, not old and cold +ones. You may inclose it in yours to me, and, I will send it to him, for +he is now in Cornwall. + +Thus, sure of being a senator, I dare say you do not propose to be one of +the ‘pedarii senatores, et pedibus ire in sententiam; for, as the House +of Commons is the theatre where you must make your fortune and figure in +the world, you must resolve to be an actor, and not a ‘persona muta’, +which is just equivalent to a candle snuffer upon other theatres. Whoever +does not shine there, is obscure, insignificant and contemptible; and you +cannot conceive how easy it is for a man of half your sense and knowledge +to shine there if he pleases. The receipt to make a speaker, and an +applauded one too, is short and easy.--Take of common sense ‘quantum +sufcit’, add a little application to the rules and orders of the House, +throw obvious thoughts in a new light, and make up the whole with a large +quantity of purity, correctness, and elegance of style. Take it for +granted, that by far the greatest part of mankind do neither analyze nor +search to the bottom; they are incapable of penetrating deeper than the +surface. All have senses to be gratified, very few have reason to be +applied to. Graceful utterance and action please their eyes, elegant +diction tickles their ears; but strong reason would be thrown away upon +them. I am not only persuaded by theory, but convinced by my experience, +that (supposing a certain degree of common sense) what is called a good +speaker is as much a mechanic as a good shoemaker; and that the two +trades are equally to be learned by the same degree of application. +Therefore, for God’s sake, let this trade be the principal object of your +thoughts; never lose sight of it. Attend minutely to your style, whatever +language you speak or write in; seek for the best words, and think of the +best turns. Whenever you doubt of the propriety or elegance of any word, +search the dictionary or some good author for it, or inquire of somebody, +who is master of that language; and, in a little time, propriety and +elegance of diction will become so habitual to you, that they will cost +you no more trouble. As I have laid this down to be mechanical and +attainable by whoever will take the necessary pains, there will be no +great vanity in my saying, that I saw the importance of the object so +early, and attended to it so young, that it would now cost me more +trouble to speak or write ungrammatically, vulgarly, and inelegantly, +than ever it did to avoid doing so. The late Lord Bolingbroke, without +the least trouble, talked all day long, full as elegantly as he wrote. +Why? Not by a peculiar gift from heaven; but, as he has often told me +himself, by an early and constant attention to his style. The present +Solicitor-General, Murray,--[Created Lord Mansfield in the year +1756.]--has less law than many lawyers, but has more practice than any; +merely upon account of his eloquence, of which he has a never-failing +stream. I remember so long ago as when I was at Cambridge, whenever I +read pieces of eloquence (and indeed they were my chief study) whether +ancient or modern, I used to write down the shining passages, and then +translate them, as well and as elegantly as ever I could; if Latin or +French, into English; if English, into French. This, which I practiced +for some years, not only improved and formed my style, but imprinted in +my mind and memory the best thoughts of the best authors. The trouble was +little, but the advantage I have experienced was great. While you are +abroad, you can neither have time nor opportunity to read pieces of +English or parliamentary eloquence, as I hope you will carefully do when +you return; but, in the meantime, whenever pieces of French eloquence +come in your way, such as the speeches of persons received into the +Academy, ‘orasions funebres’, representations of the several parliaments +to the King, etc., read them in that view, in that spirit; observe the +harmony, the turn and elegance of the style; examine in what you think it +might have been better; and consider in what, had you written it +yourself; you might have done worse. Compare the different manners of +expressing the same thoughts in different authors; and observe how +differently the same things appear in different dresses. Vulgar, coarse, +and ill-chosen words, will deform and degrade the best thoughts as much +as rags and dirt will the best figure. In short, you now know your +object; pursue it steadily, and have no digressions that are not relative +to, and connected with, the main action. Your success in parliament will +effectually remove all OTHER OBJECTIONS; either a foreign or a domestic +destination will no longer be refused you, if you make your way to it +through Westminster. + +I think I may now say, that I am quite recovered from my late illness, +strength and spirits excepted, which are not yet restored. +Aix-la-Chapelle and Spa will, I believe, answer all my purposes. + +I long to hear an account of your reception at Berlin, which I fancy will +be a most gracious one. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXCVI + +LONDON, February 15, 1754 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I can now with great truth apply your own motto to you, +‘Nullum numen abest, si sit Prudentia’. You are sure of being, as early +as your age will permit, a member of that House; which is the only road +to figure and fortune in this country. Those, indeed, who are bred up to, +and distinguish themselves in particular professions, as the army, the +navy, and the law, may, by their own merit, raise themselves to a certain +degree; but you may observe too, that they never get to the top, without +the assistance of parliamentary talents and influence. The means of +distinguishing yourself in parliament are, as I told you in my last, much +more easily attained than I believe you imagine. Close attendance to the +business of the House will soon give you the parliamentary routine; and +strict attention to your style will soon make you, not only a speaker, +but a good one. The vulgar look upon a man, who is reckoned a fine +speaker, as a phenomenon, a supernatural being, and endowed with some +peculiar gift of heaven; they stare at him, if he walks in the Park, and +cry, THAT IS HE. You will, I am sure, view him in a juster light, and +‘nulla formidine’. You will consider him only as a man of good sense, who +adorns common thoughts with the graces of elocution, and the elegance of +style. The miracle will then cease; and you will be convinced, that with +the same application, and attention to the same objects, you may most +certainly equal, and perhaps surpass, this prodigy. Sir W----Y-------, +with not a quarter of your parts, and not a thousandth part of your +knowledge, has, by a glibness of tongue simply, raised him successively +to the best employments of the kingdom; he has been Lord of the +Admiralty, Lord of the Treasury, Secretary at War, and is now +Vice-Treasurer of Ireland; and all this with a most sullied, not to say +blasted character. Represent the thing to yourself, as it really is, +easily attainable, and you will find it so. Have but ambition enough +passionately to desire the object, and spirit enough to use the means, +and I will be answerable for your success. When I was younger than you +are, I resolved within myself that I would in all events be a speaker in +parliament, and a good one too, if I could. I consequently never lost +sight of that object, and never neglected any of the means that I thought +led to it. I succeeded to a certain degree; and, I assure you, with great +ease, and without superior talents. Young people are very apt to overrate +both men and things, from not being enough acquainted with them. In +proportion as you come to know them better, you will value them less. You +will find that reason, which always ought to direct mankind, seldom does; +but that passions and weaknesses commonly usurp its seat, and rule in its +stead. You will find that the ablest have their weak sides too, and are +only comparatively able, with regard to the still weaker herd: having +fewer weaknesses themselves, they are able to avail themselves of the +innumerable ones of the generality of mankind: being more masters of +themselves, they become more easily masters of others. They address +themselves to their weaknesses, their senses, their passions; never to +their reason; and consequently seldom fail of success. But then analyze +those great, those governing, and, as the vulgar imagine, those perfect +characters, and you will find the great Brutus a thief in Macedonia, the +great Cardinal Richelieu a jealous poetaster, and the great Duke of +Marlborough a miser. Till you come to know mankind by your own +experience, I know no thing, nor no man, that can in the meantime bring +you so well acquainted with them as le Duc de la Rochefoucault: his +little book of “Maxims,” which I would advise you to look into, for some +moments at least, every day of your life, is, I fear, too like, and too +exact a picture of human nature. + +I own, it seems to degrade it; but yet my experience does not convince me +that it degrades it unjustly. + +Now, to bring all this home to my first point. All these considerations +should not only invite you to attempt to make a figure in parliament, but +encourage you to hope that you shall succeed. To govern mankind, one must +not overrate them: and to please an audience, as a speaker, one must not +overvalue it. When I first came into the House of Commons, I respected +that assembly as a venerable one; and felt a certain awe upon me, but, +upon better acquaintance, that awe soon vanished; and I discovered, that, +of the five hundred and sixty, not above thirty could understand reason, +and that all the rest were ‘peuple’; that those thirty only required +plain common sense, dressed up in good language; and that all the others +only required flowing and harmonious periods, whether they conveyed any +meaning or not; having ears to hear, but not sense enough to judge. These +considerations made me speak with little concern the first time, with +less the second, and with none at all the third. I gave myself no further +trouble about anything, except my elocution, and my style; presuming, +without much vanity, that I had common sense sufficient not to talk +nonsense. Fix these three truths strongly in your mind: First, that it is +absolutely necessary for you to speak in parliament; secondly, that it +only requires a little human attention, and no supernatural gifts; and, +thirdly, that you have all the reason in the world to think that you +shall speak well. When we meet, this shall be the principal subject of +our conversations; and, if you will follow my advice, I will answer for +your success. + +Now from great things to little ones; the transition is to me easy, +because nothing seems little to me that can be of any use to you. I hope +you take great care of your mouth and teeth, and that you clean them well +every morning with a sponge and tepid water, with a few drops of +arquebusade water dropped into it; besides washing your mouth carefully +after every meal, I do insist upon your never using those sticks, or any +hard substance whatsoever, which always rub away the gums, and destroy +the varnish of the teeth. I speak this from woeful experience; for my +negligence of my teeth, when I was younger than you are, made them bad; +and afterward, my desire to have them look better, made me use sticks, +irons, etc., which totally destroyed them; so that I have not now above +six or seven left. I lost one this morning, which suggested this advice +to you. + +I have received the tremendous wild boar, which your still more +tremendous arm slew in the immense deserts of the Palatinate; but have +not yet tasted of it, as it is hitherto above my low regimen. The late +King of Prussia, whenever he killed any number of wild boars, used to +oblige the Jews to buy them, at a high price, though they could eat none +of them; so they defrayed the expense of his hunting. His son has juster +rules of government, as the Code Frederick plainly shows. + +I hope, that, by this time, you are as well ‘ancre’ at Berlin as you was +at Munich; but, if not, you are sure of being so at Dresden. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXCVII + +LONDON, February 26, 1754. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received your letters of the 4th, from Munich, and +of the 11th from Ratisbon; but I have not received that of the 31st +January, to which you refer in the former. It is to this negligence and +uncertainty of the post, that you owe your accidents between Munich and +Ratisbon: for, had you received my letters regularly, you would have +received one from me before you left Munich, in which I advised you to +stay, since you were so well there. But, at all events, you were in the +wrong to set out from Munich in such weather and such roads; since you +could never imagine that I had set my heart so much upon your going to +Berlin, as to venture your being buried in the snow for it. Upon the +whole, considering all you are very well off. You do very well, in my +mind, to return to Munich, or at least to keep within the circle of +Munich, Ratisbon, and Manheim, till the weather and the roads are good: +stay at each or any of those places as long as ever you please; for I am +extremely indifferent about your going to Berlin. + +As to our meeting, I will tell you my plan, and you may form your own +accordingly. I propose setting out from hence the last week in April, +then drinking the Aix-la-Chapelle waters for a week, and from thence +being at Spa about the 15th of May, where I shall stay two months at +most, and then return straight to England. As I both hope and believe +that there will be no mortal at Spa during my residence there, the +fashionable season not beginning till the middle of July, I would by no +means have you come there at first, to be locked up with me and some few +Capucins, for two months, in that miserable hole; but I would advise you +to stay where you like best, till about the first week in July, and then +to come and pick me up at Spa, or meet me upon the road at Liege or +Brussels. As for the intermediate time, should you be weary of Manheim +and Munich, you may, if you please, go to Dresden, to Sir Charles +Williams, who will be there before that time; or you may come for a month +or six weeks to The Hague; or, in short, go or stay wherever you like +best. So much for your motions. + +As you have sent for all the letters directed to you at Berlin, you will +receive from thence volumes of mine, among which you will easily perceive +that some were calculated for a supposed perusal previous to your opening +them. I will not repeat anything contained in them, excepting that I +desire you will send me a warm and cordial letter of thanks for Mr. +Eliot; who has, in the most friendly manner imaginable, fixed you at his +own borough of Liskeard, where you will be elected jointly with him, +without the least opposition or difficulty. I will forward that letter to +him into Cornwall, where he now is. + +Now that you are to be soon a man of business, I heartily wish that you +would immediately begin to be a man of method; nothing contributing more +to facilitate and dispatch business, than method and order. Have order +and method in your accounts, in your reading, in the allotment of your +time; in short, in everything. You cannot conceive how much time you will +save by it, nor how much better everything you do will be done. The Duke +of Marlborough did by no means spend, but he slatterned himself into that +immense debt, which is not yet near paid off. The hurry and confusion of +the Duke of Newcastle do not proceed from his business, but from his want +of method in it. Sir Robert Walpole, who had ten times the business to +do, was never seen in a hurry, because he always did it with method. The +head of a man who has business, and no method nor order, is properly that +‘rudis indigestaque moles quam dixere chaos’. As you must be conscious +that you are extremely negligent and slatternly, I hope you will resolve +not to be so for the future. Prevail with yourself, only to observe good +method and order for one fortnight; and I will venture to assure you that +you will never neglect them afterward, you will find such conveniency and +advantage arising from them. Method is the great advantage that lawyers +have over other people, in speaking in parliament; for, as they must +necessarily observe it in their pleadings in the courts of justice, it +becomes habitual to them everywhere else. Without making you a +compliment, I can tell you with pleasure, that order, method, and more +activity of mind, are all that you want, to make, some day or other, a +considerable figure in business. You have more useful knowledge, more +discernment of characters, and much more discretion, than is common at +your age; much more, I am sure, than I had at that age. Experience you +cannot yet have, and therefore trust in the meantime to mine. I am an old +traveler; am well acquainted with all the bye as well as the great roads; +I cannot misguide you from ignorance, and you are very sure I shall not +from design. + +I can assure you, that you will have no opportunity of subscribing +yourself my Excellency’s, etc. Retirement and quiet were my choice some +years ago, while I had all my senses, and health and spirits enough to +carry on business; but now that I have lost my hearing, and that I find +my constitution declining daily, they are become my necessary and only +refuge. I know myself (no common piece of knowledge, let me tell you), I +know what I can, what I cannot, and consequently what I ought to do. I +ought not, and therefore will not, return to business when I am much less +fit for it than I was when I quitted it. Still less will I go to Ireland, +where, from my deafness and infirmities, I must necessarily make a +different figure from that which I once made there. My pride would be too +much mortified by that difference. The two important senses of seeing and +hearing should not only be good, but quick, in business; and the business +of a Lord-lieutenant of Ireland (if he will do it himself) requires both +those senses in the highest perfection. It was the Duke of Dorset’s not +doing the business himself, but giving it up to favorites, that has +occasioned all this confusion in Ireland; and it was my doing the whole +myself, without either Favorite, Minister, or Mistress, that made my +administration so smooth and quiet. I remember, when I named the late Mr. +Liddel for my Secretary, everybody was much surprised at it; and some of +my friends represented to me, that he was no man of business, but only a +very genteel, pretty young fellow; I assured them, and with truth, that +that was the very reason why I chose him; for that I was resolved to do +all the business myself, and without even the suspicion of having a +minister; which the Lord-lieutenant’s Secretary, if he is a man of +business, is always supposed, and commonly with reason, to be. Moreover, +I look upon myself now to be emeritus in business, in which I have been +near forty years together; I give it up to you: apply yourself to it, as +I have done, for forty years, and then I consent to your leaving it for a +philosophical retirement among your friends and your books. Statesmen and +beauties are very rarely sensible of the gradations of their decay; and, +too often sanguinely hoping to shine on in their meridian, often set with +contempt and ridicule. I retired in time, ‘uti conviva satur’; or, as +Pope says still better, ERE TITTERING YOUTH SHALL SHOVE YOU FROM THE +STAGE. My only remaining ambition is to be the counsellor and minister of +your rising ambition. Let me see my own youth revived in you; let me be +your Mentor, and, with your parts and knowledge, I promise you, you shall +go far. You must bring, on your part, activity and attention; and I will +point out to you the proper objects for them. I own I fear but one thing +for you, and that is what one has generally the least reason to fear from +one of your age; I mean your laziness; which, if you indulge, will make +you stagnate in a contemptible obscurity all your life. It will hinder +you from doing anything that will deserve to be written, or from writing +anything that may deserve to be read; and yet one or other of those two +objects should be at least aimed at by every rational being. + +I look upon indolence as a sort of SUICIDE; for the man is effectually +destroyed, though the appetites of the brute may survive. Business by no +means forbids pleasures; on the contrary, they reciprocally season each +other; and I will venture to affirm, that no man enjoys either in +perfection, that does not join both. They whet the desire for each other. +Use yourself, therefore, in time to be alert and diligent in your little +concerns; never procrastinate, never put off till to-morrow what you can +do to-day; and never do two things at a time; pursue your object, be it +what it will, steadily and indefatigably; and let any difficulties (if +surmountable) rather animate than slacken your endeavors. Perseverance +has surprising effects. + +I wish you would use yourself to translate, every day, only three or four +lines, from any book, in any language, into the correctest and most +elegant English that you can think of; you cannot imagine how it will +insensibly form your style, and give you an habitual elegance; it would +not take you up a quarter of an hour in a day. This letter is so long, +that it will hardly leave you that quarter of an hour, the day you +receive it. So good-night. + + + + +LETTER CXCVIII + +LONDON, March 8, 1754 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: A great and unexpected event has lately happened in our +ministerial world. Mr. Pelham died last Monday of a fever and +mortification, occasioned by a general corruption of his whole mass of +blood, which had broke out into sores in his back. I regret him as an old +acquaintance, a pretty near relation, and a private man, with whom I have +lived many years in a social and friendly way. He meant well to the +public; and was incorrupt in a post where corruption is commonly +contagious. If he was no shining, enterprising minister, he was a safe +one, which I like better. Very shining ministers, like the sun, are apt +to scorch when they shine the brightest: in our constitution, I prefer +the milder light of a less glaring minister. His successor is not yet, at +least publicly, ‘designatus’. You will easily suppose that many are very +willing, and very few able, to fill that post. Various persons are talked +of, by different people, for it, according as their interest prompts them +to wish, or their ignorance to conjecture. Mr. Fox is the most talked of; +he is strongly supported by the Duke of Cumberland. Mr. Legge, the +Solicitor-General, and Dr. Lee, are likewise all spoken of, upon the foot +of the Duke of Newcastle’s, and the Chancellor’s interest. Should it be +any one of the last three, I think no great alterations will ensue; but +should Mr. Fox prevail, it would, in my opinion, soon produce changes by +no means favorable to the Duke of Newcastle. In the meantime, the wild +conjectures of volunteer politicians, and the ridiculous importance +which, upon these occasions, blockheads always endeavor to give +themselves, by grave looks, significant shrugs, and insignificant +whispers, are very entertaining to a bystander, as, thank God, I now am. +One KNOWS SOMETHING, but is not yet at liberty to tell it; another has +heard something from a very good hand; a third congratulates himself upon +a certain degree of intimacy, which he has long had with everyone of the +candidates, though perhaps he has never spoken twice to anyone of them. +In short, in these sort of intervals, vanity, interest, and absurdity, +always display themselves in the most ridiculous light. One who has been +so long behind the scenes as I have is much more diverted with the +entertainment, than those can be who only see it from the pit and boxes. +I know the whole machinery of the interior, and can laugh the better at +the silly wonder and wild conjectures of the uninformed spectators. This +accident, I think, cannot in the least affect your election, which is +finally settled with your friend Mr. Eliot. For, let who will prevail, I +presume, he will consider me enough, not to overturn an arrangement of +that sort, in which he cannot possibly be personally interested. So pray +go on with your parliamentary preparations. Have that object always in +your view, and pursue it with attention. + +I take it for granted that your late residence in Germany has made you as +perfect and correct in German, as you were before in French, at least it +is worth your while to be so; because it is worth every man’s while to be +perfectly master of whatever language he may ever have occasion to speak. +A man is not himself, in a language which he does not thoroughly possess; +his thoughts are degraded, when inelegantly or imperfectly expressed; he +is cramped and confined, and consequently can never appear to advantage. +Examine and analyze those thoughts that strike you the most, either in +conversation or in books; and you will find that they owe at least half +their merit to the turn and expression of them. There is nothing truer +than that old saying, ‘Nihil dictum quod non prins dictum’. It is only +the manner of saying or writing it that makes it appear new. Convince +yourself that manner is almost everything, in everything; and study it +accordingly. + +I am this moment informed, and I believe truly, that Mr. Fox--[Henry Fox, +created Lord Holland, Baron of Foxley, in the year 1763]--is to succeed +Mr. Pelham as First Commissioner of the Treasury and Chancellor of the +Exchequer; and your friend, Mr. Yorke, of The Hague, to succeed Mr. Fox +as Secretary at War. I am not sorry for this promotion of Mr. Fox, as I +have always been upon civil terms with him, and found him ready to do me +any little services. He is frank and gentleman-like in his manner: and, +to a certain degree, I really believe will be your friend upon my +account; if you can afterward make him yours, upon your own, ‘tan mieux’. +I have nothing more to say now but Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CXCIX + +LONDON, March 15, 1754 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: We are here in the midst of a second winter; the cold is +more severe, and the snow deeper, than they were in the first. I presume, +your weather in Germany is not much more gentle and, therefore, I hope +that you are quietly and warmly fixed at some good town: and will not +risk a second burial in the snow, after your late fortunate resurrection +out of it. Your letters, I suppose, have not been able to make their way +through the ice; for I have received none from you since that of the 12th +of February, from Ratisbon. I am the more uneasy at this state of +ignorance, because I fear that you may have found some subsequent +inconveniences from your overturn, which you might not be aware of at +first. + +The curtain of the political theatre was partly drawn up the day before +yesterday, and exhibited a scene which the public in general did not +expect; the Duke of Newcastle was declared First Lord Commissioner of the +Treasury, Mr. Fox Secretary of State in his room, and Mr. Henry Legge +Chancellor of the Exchequer: The employments of Treasurer of the Navy, +and Secretary at War, supposed to be vacant by the promotion of Mr. Fox +and Mr. Legge, were to be kept ‘in petto’ till the dissolution of this +parliament, which will probably be next week, to avoid the expense and +trouble of unnecessary re-elections; but it was generally supposed that +Colonel Yorke, of The Hague, was to succeed Mr. Fox; and George +Greenville, Mr. Legge. This scheme, had it taken place, you are, I +believe aware, was more a temporary expedient, for securing the elections +of the new parliament, and forming it, at its first meeting, to the +interests and the inclinations of the Duke of Newcastle and the +Chancellor, than a plan of administration either intended or wished to be +permanent. This scheme was disturbed yesterday: Mr. Fox, who had sullenly +accepted the seals the day before, more sullenly refused them yesterday. +His object was to be First Commissioner of the Treasury, and Chancellor +of the Exchequer, and consequently to have a share in the election of the +new parliament, and a much greater in the management of it when chosen. +This necessary consequence of his view defeated it; and the Duke of +Newcastle and the Chancellor chose to kick him upstairs into the +Secretaryship of State, rather than trust him with either the election or +the management of the new parliament. In this, considering their +respective situations, they certainly acted wisely; but whether Mr. Fox +has done so, or not, in refusing the seals, is a point which I cannot +determine. If he is, as I presume he is, animated with revenge, and I +believe would not be over scrupulous in the means of gratifying it, I +should have thought he could have done it better, as Secretary of State, +with constant admission into the closet, than as a private man at the +head of an opposition. But I see all these things at too great a distance +to be able to judge soundly of them. The true springs and motives of +political measures are confined within a very narrow circle, and known to +a very few; the good reasons alleged are seldom the true ones: The public +commonly judges, or rather guesses, wrong, and I am now one of that +public. I therefore recommend to you a prudent Pyrrhonism in all matters +of state, until you become one of the wheels of them yourself, and +consequently acquainted with the general motion, at least, of the others; +for as to all the minute and secret springs, that contribute more or less +to the whole machine, no man living ever knows them all, not even he who +has the principal direction of it. As in the human body, there are +innumerable little vessels and glands that have a good deal to do, and +yet escape the knowledge of the most skillful anatomist; he will know +more, indeed, than those who only see the exterior of our bodies, but he +will never know all. This bustle, and these changes at court, far from +having disturbed the quiet and security of your election, have, if +possible, rather confirmed them; for the Duke of Newcastle (I must do him +justice) has, in, the kindest manner imaginable to you, wrote a letter to +Mr. Eliot, to recommend to him the utmost care of your election. + +Though the plan of administration is thus unsettled, mine, for my travels +this summer, is finally settled; and I now communicate it to you that you +may form your own upon it. I propose being at Spa on the 10th or 12th of +May, and staying there till the 10th of July. As there will be no mortal +there during my stay, it would be both unpleasant and unprofitable to you +to be shut up tete-a-fete with me the whole time; I should therefore +think it best for you not to come to me there till the last week in June. +In the meantime, I suppose, that by the middle of April, you will think +that you have had enough of Manheim, Munich, or Ratisbon, and that +district. Where would you choose to go then? For I leave you absolutely +your choice. Would you go to Dresden for a month or six weeks? That is a +good deal out of your way, and I am not sure that Sir Charles will be +there by that time. Or would you rather take Bonn in your way, and pass +the time till we meet at The Hague? From Manheim you may have a great +many good letters of recommendation to the court of Bonn; which court, +and it’s Elector, in one light or another, are worth your seeing. + +From thence, your journey to The Hague will be but a short one; and you +would arrive there at that season of the year when The Hague is, in my +mind, the most agreeable, smiling scene in Europe; and from The Hague you +would have but three very easy days journey to me at Spa. Do as you like; +for, as I told you before, ‘Ella e assolutamente padrone’. But lest you +should answer that you desire to be determined by me, I will eventually +tell you my opinion. I am rather inclined to the latter plan; I mean that +of your coming to Bonn, staying there according as you like it, and then +passing the remainder of your time, that is May and June, at The Hague. +Our connection and transactions with the Republic of the United +Provinces are such, that you cannot be too well acquainted with that +constitution, and with those people. You have established good +acquaintances there, and you have been ‘fetoie’ round by the foreign +ministers; so that you will be there ‘en pais connu’. Moreover, you have +not seen the Stadtholder, the ‘Gouvernante’, nor the court there, which +‘a bon compte’ should be seen. Upon the whole, then, you cannot, in my +opinion, pass the months of May and June more agreeably, or more +usefully, than at The Hague. But, however, if you have any other, plan +that you like better, pursue it: Only let me know what you intend to do, +and I shall most cheerfully agree to it. + +The parliament will be dissolved in about ten days, and the writs for the +election of the new one issued out immediately afterward; so that, by the +end of next month, you may depend upon being ‘Membre de la chambre +basse’; a title that sounds high in foreign countries, and perhaps higher +than it deserves. I hope you will add a better title to it in your own, I +mean that of a good speaker in parliament: you have, I am sure, all, the +materials necessary for it, if you will but put them together and adorn +them. I spoke in parliament the first month I was in it, and a month +before I was of age; and from the day I was elected, till the day that I +spoke. I am sure I thought nor dreamed of nothing but speaking. The first +time, to say the truth, I spoke very indifferently as to the matter; but +it passed tolerably, in favor of the spirit with which I uttered it, and +the words in which I had dressed it. I improved by degrees, till at last +it did tolerably well. The House, it must be owned, is always extremely +indulgent to the two or three first attempts of a young speaker; and if +they find any degree of common sense in what he says, they make great +allowances for his inexperience, and for the concern which they suppose +him to be under. I experienced that indulgence; for had I not been a +young member, I should certainly have been, as I own I deserved, +reprimanded by the House for some strong and indiscreet things that I +said. Adieu! It is indeed high time. + + + + +LETTER CC + +LONDON, March 26, 1754 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter of the 15th from +Manheim, where I find you have been received in the usual gracious +manner; which I hope you return in a GRACEFUL one. As this is a season of +great devotion and solemnity in all Catholic countries, pray inform +yourself of, and constantly attend to, all their silly and pompous church +ceremonies; one ought to know them. I am very glad that you wrote the +letter to Lord------, which, in every different case that can possibly be +supposed, was, I am sure, both a decent and a prudent step. You will find +it very difficult, whenever we meet, to convince me that you could have +any good reasons for not doing it; for I will, for argument’s sake, +suppose, what I cannot in reality believe, that he has both said and done +the worst he could, of and by you; What then? How will you help yourself? +Are you in a situation to hurt him? Certainly not; but he certainly is in +a situation to hurt you. Would you show a sullen, pouting, impotent +resentment? I hope not; leave that silly, unavailing sort of resentment +to women, and men like them, who are always guided by humor, never by +reason and prudence. That pettish, pouting conduct is a great deal too +young, and implies too little knowledge of the world, for one who has +seen so much of it as you have. Let this be one invariable rule of your +conduct,--Never to show the least symptom of resentment which you cannot +to a certain degree gratify; but always to smile, where you cannot +strike. There would be no living in courts, nor indeed in the world if +one could not conceal, and even dissemble, the just causes of resentment, +which one meets with every day in active and busy life. Whoever cannot +master his humor enough, ‘pour faire bonne mine a mauvais jeu’, should +leave the world, and retire to some hermitage, in an unfrequented desert. +By showing an unavailing and sullen resentment, you authorize the +resentment of those who can hurt you and whom you cannot hurt; and give +them that very pretense, which perhaps they wished for, of breaking with, +and injuring you; whereas the contrary behavior would lay them under, the +restraints of decency at least; and either shackle or expose their +malice. Besides, captiousness, sullenness, and pouting are most +exceedingly illiberal and vulgar. ‘Un honnete homme ne les connoit +point’. + +I am extremely glad to hear that you are soon to have Voltaire at +Manheim: immediately upon his arrival, pray make him a thousand +compliments from me. I admire him most exceedingly; and, whether as an +epic, dramatic, or lyric poet, or prose-writer, I think I justly apply to +him the ‘Nil molitur inepte’. I long to read his own correct edition of +‘Les Annales de l’Empire’, of which the ‘Abrege Chronologique de +l’Histoire Universelle’, which I have read, is, I suppose, a stolen and +imperfect part; however, imperfect as it is, it has explained to me that +chaos of history, of seven hundred years more clearly than any other book +had done before. You judge very rightly that I love ‘le style le r et +fleuri’. I do, and so does everybody who has any parts and taste. It +should, I confess, be more or less ‘fleuri’, according to the subject; +but at the same time I assert that there is no subject that may not +properly, and which ought not to be adorned, by a certain elegance and +beauty of style. What can be more adorned than Cicero’s Philosophical +Works? What more than Plato’s? It is their eloquence only that has +preserved and transmitted them down to us through so many centuries; for +the philosophy of them is wretched, and the reasoning part miserable. But +eloquence will always please, and has always pleased. Study it therefore; +make it the object of your thoughts and attention. Use yourself to relate +elegantly; that is a good step toward speaking well in parliament. Take +some political subject, turn it in your thoughts, consider what may be +said both for and against it, then put those arguments into writing, in +the most correct and elegant English you can. For instance, a standing +army, a place bill, etc.; as to the former, consider, on one side, the +dangers arising to a free country from a great standing military force; +on the other side, consider the necessity of a force to repel force with. +Examine whether a standing army, though in itself an evil, may not, from +circumstances, become a necessary evil, and preventive of greater +dangers. As to the latter, consider, how far places may bias and warp the +conduct of men, from the service of their country, into an unwarrantable +complaisance to the court; and, on the other hand, consider whether they +can be supposed to have that effect upon the conduct of people of probity +and property, who are more solidly interested in the permanent good of +their country, than they can be in an uncertain and precarious +employment. Seek for, and answer in your own mind, all the arguments that +can be urged on either side, and write them down in an elegant style. +This will prepare you for debating, and give you an habitual eloquence; +for I would not give a farthing for a mere holiday eloquence, displayed +once or twice in a session, in a set declamation, but I want an +every-day, ready, and habitual eloquence, to adorn extempore and debating +speeches; to make business not only clear but agreeable, and to please +even those whom you cannot inform, and who do not desire to be informed. +All this you may acquire, and make habitual to you, with as little +trouble as it cost you to dance a minuet as well as you do. You now dance +it mechanically and well without thinking of it. + +I am surprised that you found but one letter for me at Manheim, for you +ought to have found four or five; there are as many lying for you at your +banker’s at Berlin, which I wish you had, because I always endeavored to +put something into them, which, I hope, may be of use to you. + +When we meet at Spa, next July, we must have a great many serious +conversations; in which I will pour out all my experience of the world, +and which, I hope, you will trust to, more than to your own young notions +of men and things. You will, in time, discover most of them to have been +erroneous; and, if you follow them long, you will perceive your error too +late; but if you will be led by a guide, who, you are sure, does not mean +to mislead you, you will unite two things, seldom united, in the same +person; the vivacity and spirit of youth, with the caution and experience +of age. + +Last Saturday, Sir Thomas Robinson, who had been the King’s Minister at +Vienna, was declared Secretary of State for the southern department, Lord +Holderness having taken the northern. Sir Thomas accepted it unwillingly, +and, as I hear, with a promise that he shall not keep it long. Both his +health and spirits are bad, two very disqualifying circumstances for that +employment; yours, I hope, will enable you, some time or other, to go +through with it. In all events, aim at it, and if you fail or fall, let +it at least be said of you, ‘Magnis tamen excidit ausis’. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCI + +LONDON, April 5, 1754 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 20th March, from +Manheim, with the inclosed for Mr. Eliot; it was a very proper one, and I +have forwarded it to him by Mr. Harte, who sets out for Cornwall tomorrow +morning. + +I am very glad that you use yourself to translations; and I do not care +of what, provided you study the correctness and elegance of your style. +The “Life of Sextus Quintus” is the best book of the innumerable books +written by Gregorio Leti, whom the Italians, very justly, call ‘Leti caca +libro’. But I would rather that you chose some pieces of oratory for your +translations, whether ancient or modern, Latin or French, which would +give you a more oratorical train of thoughts and turn of expression. In +your letter to me you make use of two words, which though true and +correct English, are, however, from long disuse, become inelegant, and +seem now to be stiff, formal, and in some degree scriptural; the first is +the word NAMELY, which you introduce thus, YOU INFORM ME OF A VERY +AGREEABLE PIECE OF NEWS, namely, THAT MY ELECTION IS SECURED. Instead of +NAMELY, I would always use WHICH IS, or THAT IS, that my-election is +secured. The other word is, MINE OWN INCLINATIONS: this is certainly +correct before a subsequent word that begins with a vowel; but it is too +correct, and is now disused as too formal, notwithstanding the hiatus +occasioned by MY OWN. Every language has its peculiarities; they are +established by usage, and whether right or wrong, they must be complied +with. I could instance many very absurd ones in different languages; but +so authorized by the ‘jus et norma loquendi’, that they must be submitted +to. NAMELY, and TO WIT, are very good words in themselves, and contribute +to clearness more than the relatives which we now substitute in their +room; but, however, they cannot be used, except in a sermon or some very +grave and formal compositions. It is with language as with manners they +are both established by the usage of people of fashion; it must be +imitated, it must be complied with. Singularity is only pardonable in old +age and retirement; I may now be as singular as I please, but you may +not. We will, when we meet, discuss these and many other points, provided +you will give me attention and credit; without both which it is to no +purpose to advise either you or anybody else. + +I want to know your determination, where you intend to (if I may use that +expression) WHILE away your time till the last week in June, when we are +to meet at Spa; I continue rather in the opinion which I mentioned to you +formerly, in favor of The Hague; but however, I have not the least +objection to Dresden, or to any other place that you may like better. If +you prefer the Dutch scheme, you take Treves and Coblentz in your way, as +also Dusseldorp: all which places I think you have not yet seen. At +Manheim you may certainly get good letters of recommendation to the +courts of the two Electors of Treves and Cologne, whom you are yet +unacquainted with; and I should wish you to know them all; for, as I have +often told you, ‘olim haec meminisse juvabit’. There is an utility in +having seen what other people have seen, and there is a justifiable pride +in having seen what others have not seen. In the former case, you are +equal to others; in the latter, superior. As your stay abroad will not +now be very long, pray, while it lasts, see everything and everybody you +can, and see them well, with care and attention. It is not to be +conceived of what advantage it is to anybody to have seen more things, +people, and countries, than other people in general have; it gives them a +credit, makes them referred to, and they become the objects of the +attention of the company. They are not out in any part of polite +conversation; they are acquainted with all the places, customs, courts, +and families that are likely to be mentioned; they are, as Monsieur de +Maupertuis justly observes, ‘de tous les pays, comme les savans, sont de +tous les tems’. You have, fortunately, both those advantages: the only +remaining point is ‘de savoir les faire valoir’, for without that one may +as well not have them. Remember that very true maxim of La Bruyere’s, +‘Qu’on ne vaut dans se monde que ce qu’on veut valoir’. The knowledge of +the world will teach you to what degree you ought to show ‘que vous +valez’. One must by no means, on one hand, be indifferent about it; as, +on the other, one must not display it with affectation, and in an +overbearing manner, but, of the two, it is better to show too much than +too little. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCII + +BATH, November 27, 1754 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I heartily congratulate you upon the loss of your +political maidenhead, of which I have received from others a very good +account. I hear that you were stopped for some time in your career; but +recovered breath, and finished it very well. I am not surprised, nor +indeed concerned, at your accident; for I remember the dreadful feeling +of that situation in myself; and as it must require a most uncommon share +of impudence to be unconcerned upon such an occasion, I am not sure that +I am not rather glad you stopped. You must therefore now think of +hardening yourself by degrees, by using yourself insensibly to the sound +of your own voice, and to the act (trifling as it seems) of rising up and +sitting down. Nothing will contribute so much to this as committee work +of elections at night, and of private bills in the morning. There, asking +short questions, moving for witnesses to be called in, and all that kind +of small ware, will soon fit you to set up for yourself. I am told that +you are much mortified at your accident, but without reason; pray, let it +rather be a spur than a curb to you. Persevere, and, depend upon it, it +will do well at last. When I say persevere, I do not mean that you should +speak every day, nor in every debate. Moreover, I would not advise you to +speak again upon public matters for some time, perhaps a month or two; +but I mean, never lose view of that great object; pursue it with +discretion, but pursue it always. ‘Pelotez en attendant partie’. You know +I have always told you that speaking in public was but a knack, which +those who apply to the most will succeed in the best. Two old members, +very good judges, have sent me compliments upon this occasion; and have +assured me that they plainly find it will do; though they perceived, from +that natural confusion you were in, that you neither said all, nor +perhaps what you intended. Upon the whole, you have set out very well, +and have sufficient encouragement to go on. Attend; therefore, +assiduously, and observe carefully all that passes in the House; for it +is only knowledge and experience that can make a debater. But if you +still want comfort, Mrs.-------I hope, will administer it to you; for, in +my opinion she may, if she will, be very comfortable; and with women, as +with speaking in parliament, perseverance will most certainly prevail +sooner or later. + +What little I have played for here, I have won; but that is very far from +the considerable sum which you heard of. I play every evening, from seven +till ten, at a crown whist party, merely to save my eyes from reading or +writing for three hours by candle-light. I propose being in town the week +after next, and hope to carry back with me much more health than I +brought down here. Good-night. + +[Mr. Stanhope being returned to England, and seeing his father almost +every day, is the occasion of an interruption of two years in their +correspondence.] + + + + + LETTERS TO HIS SON + 1756-58 + + By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + + on the Fine Art of becoming a + + MAN OF THE WORLD + + and a + + GENTLEMAN + + + +LETTER CCIII + +BATH, November 15, 1756 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yours yesterday morning together with the +Prussian, papers, which I have read with great attention. If courts could +blush, those of Vienna and Dresden ought, to have their falsehoods so +publicly, and so undeniably exposed. The former will, I presume, next +year, employ an hundred thousand men, to answer the accusation; and if +the Empress of the two Russias is pleased to argue in the same cogent +manner, their logic will be too strong for all the King of Prussia’s +rhetoric. I well remember the treaty so often referred to in those +pieces, between the two Empresses, in 1746. The King was strongly pressed +by the Empress Queen to accede to it. Wassenaer communicated it to me for +that purpose. I asked him if there were no secret articles; suspecting +that there were some, because the ostensible treaty was a mere harmless, +defensive one. He assured me that there were none. Upon which I told him, +that as the King had already defensive alliances with those two +Empresses, I did not see of what use his accession to this treaty, if +merely a defensive one, could be, either to himself or the other +contracting parties; but that, however, if it was only desired as an +indication of the King’s good will, I would give him an act by which his +Majesty should accede to that treaty, as far, but no further, as at +present he stood engaged to the respective Empresses by the defensive +alliances subsisting with each. This offer by no means satisfied him; +which was a plain proof of the secret articles now brought to light, and +into which the court of Vienna hoped to draw us. I told Wassenaer so, and +after that I heard no more of his invitation. + +I am still bewildered in the changes at Court, of which I find that all +the particulars are not yet fixed. Who would have thought, a year ago, +that Mr. Fox, the Chancellor, and the Duke of Newcastle, should all three +have quitted together? Nor can I yet account for it; explain it to me if +you can. I cannot see, neither, what the Duke of Devonshire and Fox, whom +I looked upon as intimately united, can have quarreled about, with +relation to the Treasury; inform me, if you know. I never doubted of the +prudent versatility of your Vicar of Bray: But I am surprised at O’Brien +Windham’s going out of the Treasury, where I should have thought that the +interest of his brother-in-law, George Grenville, would have kept him. + +Having found myself rather worse, these two or three last days, I was +obliged to take some ipecacuanha last night; and, what you will think +odd, for a vomit, I brought it all up again in about an hour, to my great +satisfaction and emolument, which is seldom the case in restitutions. + +You did well to go to the Duke of Newcastle, who, I suppose, will have no +more levees; however, go from time to time, and leave your name at his +door, for you have obligations to him. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCIV + +BATH, December 14, 1756. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: What can I say to you from this place, where EVERY DAY IS +STILL BUT AS THE FIRST, though by no means so agreeably passed, as +Anthony describes his to have been? The same nothings succeed one another +every day with me, as, regularly and uniformly as the hours of the day. +You will think this tiresome, and so it is; but how can I help it? Cut +off from society by my deafness, and dispirited by my ill health, where +could I be better? You will say, perhaps, where could you be worse? Only +in prison, or the galleys, I confess. However, I see a period to my stay +here; and I have fixed, in my own mind, a time for my return to London; +not invited there by either politics or pleasures, to both which I am +equally a stranger, but merely to be at home; which, after all, according +to the vulgar saying, is home, be it ever so homely. + +The political settlement, as it is called, is, I find, by no means +settled; Mr. Fox, who took this place in his way to his brother’s, where +he intended to pass a month, was stopped short by an express, which he +received from his connection, to come to town immediately; and +accordingly he set out from hence very early, two days ago. I had a very +long conversation with him, in which he was, seemingly at least, very +frank and communicative; but still I own myself in the dark. In those +matters, as in most others, half knowledge (and mine is at most that) is +more apt to lead one into error, than to carry one to truth; and our own +vanity contributes to the seduction. Our conjectures pass upon us for +truths; we will know what we do not know, and often, what we cannot know: +so mortifying to our pride is the bare suspicion of ignorance! + +It has been reported here that the Empress of Russia is dying; this would +be a fortunate event indeed for the King of Prussia, and necessarily +produce the neutrality and inaction, at least, of that great power; which +would be a heavy weight taken out of the opposite scale to the King of +Prussia. The ‘Augustissima’ must, in that case, do all herself; for +though France will, no doubt, promise largely, it will, I believe, +perform but scantily; as it desires no better than that the different +powers of Germany should tear one another to pieces. + +I hope you frequent all the courts: a man should make his face familiar +there. Long habit produces favor insensibly; and acquaintance often does +more than friendship, in that climate where ‘les beaux sentimens’ are not +the natural growth. + +Adieu! I am going to the ball, to save my eyes from reading, and my mind +from thinking. + + + + +LETTERS TO HIS SON + +LETTER CCV + +BATH, January 12, 1757 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I waited quietly, to see when either your leisure, or +your inclinations, would al low you to honor me with a letter; and at +last I received one this morning, very near a fortnight after you went +from hence. You will say, that you had no news to write me; and that +probably may be true; but, without news, one has always something to say +to those with whom one desires to have anything to do. + +Your observation is very just with regard to the King of Prussia, whom +the most august House of Austria would most unquestionably have poisoned +a century or two ago. But now that ‘terras Astraea reliquit’, kings and +princes die of natural deaths; even war is pusillanimously carried on in +this degenerate age; quarter is given; towns are taken, and the people +spared: even in a storm, a woman can hardly hope for the benefit of a +rape. Whereas (such was the humanity of former days) prisoners were +killed by thousands in cold blood, and the generous victors spared +neither man, woman, nor child. Heroic actions of this kind were performed +at the taking of Magdebourg. The King of Prussia is certainly now in a +situation that must soon decide his fate, and make him Caesar or nothing. +Notwithstanding the march of the Russians, his great danger, in my mind, +lies westward. I have no great notions of Apraxin’s abilities, and I +believe many a Prussian colonel would out-general him. But Brown, +Piccolomini, Lucchese, and many other veteran officers in the Austrian +troops, are respectable enemies. + +Mr. Pitt seems to me to have almost as many enemies to encounter as his +Prussian Majesty. The late Ministry, and the Duke’s party, will, I +presume, unite against him and his Tory friends; and then quarrel among +themselves again. His best, if not his only chance of supporting himself +would be, if he had credit enough in the city, to hinder the advancing of +the money to any administration but his own; and I have met with some +people here who think that he has. + +I have put off my journey from hence for a week, but no longer. I find I +still gain some strength and some flesh here, and therefore I will not +cut while the run is for me. + +By a letter which I received this morning from Lady Allen, I observe that +you are extremely well with her; and it is well for you to be so, for she +is an excellent and warm puff. + +‘A propos’ (an expression which is commonly used to introduce whatever is +unrelative to it) you should apply to some of Lord Holderness’s people, +for the perusal of Mr. Cope’s letters. It would not be refused you; and +the sooner you have them the better. I do not mean them as models for +your manner of writing, but as outlines of the matter you are to write +upon. + +If you have not read Hume’s “Essays” read them; they are four very small +volumes; I have just finished, and am extremely pleased with them. He +thinks impartially, deep, often new; and, in my mind, commonly just. +Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCVI + +BLACKHEATH, September 17, 1757 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Lord Holderness has been so kind as to communicate to me +all the letters which he has received from you hitherto, dated the 15th, +19th, 23d, and 26th August; and also a draught of that which he wrote to +you the 9th instant. I am very well pleased with all your letters; and, +what is better, I can tell you that the King is so too; and he said, but +three days ago, to Monsieur Munchausen, HE (meaning you) SETS OUT VERY +WELL, AND I LIKE HIS LETTERS; PROVIDED THAT, LIKE MOST OF MY ENGLISH +MINISTERS ABROAD, HE DOES NOT GROW IDLE HEREAFTER. So that here is both +praise to flatter, and a hint to warn you. What Lord Holderness +recommends to you, being by the King’s order, intimates also a degree of +approbation; for the BLACKER INK, AND THE LARGER CHARACTER, show, that +his Majesty, whose eyes are grown weaker, intends to read all your +letters himself. Therefore, pray do not neglect to get the blackest ink +you can; and to make your secretary enlarge his hand, though ‘d’ailleurs’ +it is a very good one. + +Had I been to wish an advantageous situation for you, and a good debut in +it, I could not have wished you either better than both have hitherto +proved. The rest will depend entirely upon yourself; and I own I begin to +have much better hopes than I had; for I know, by my own experience, that +the more one works, the more willing one is to work. We are all, more or +less, ‘des animaux d’habitude’. I remember very well, that when I was in +business, I wrote four or five hours together every day, more willingly +than I should now half an hour; and this is most certain, that when a man +has applied himself to business half the day, the other half, goes off +the more cheerfully and agreeably. This I found so sensibly, when I was +at The Hague, that I never tasted company so well nor was so good company +myself, as at the suppers of my post days. I take Hamburg now to be ‘le +centre du refuge Allemand’. If you have any Hanover ‘refugies’ among +them, pray take care to be particularly attentive to them. How do you +like your house? Is it a convenient one? Have the ‘Casserolles’ been +employed in it yet? You will find ‘les petits soupers fins’ less +expensive, and turn to better account, than large dinners for great +companies. + +I hope you have written to the Duke of Newcastle; I take it for granted +that you have to all your brother ministers of the northern department. +For God’s sake be diligent, alert, active, and indefatigable in your +business. You want nothing but labor and industry to be, one day, +whatever you please, in your own way. + +We think and talk of nothing here but Brest, which is universally +supposed to be the object of our great expedition. A great and important +object it is. I suppose the affair must be brusque, or it will not do. If +we succeed, it will make France put some water to its wine. As for my own +private opinion, I own I rather wish than hope success. However, should +our expedition fail, ‘Magnis tamen excidit ausis’, and that will be +better than our late languid manner of making war. + +To mention a person to you whom I am very indifferent about, I mean +myself, I vegetate still just as I did when we parted; but I think I +begin to be sensible of the autumn of the year; as well as of the autumn +of my own life. I feel an internal awkwardness, which, in about three +weeks, I shall carry with me to the Bath, where I hope to get rid of it, +as I did last year. The best cordial I could take, would be to hear, from +time to time, of your industry and diligence; for in that case I should +consequently hear of your success. Remember your own motto, ‘Nullum numen +abest si sit prudentia’. Nothing is truer. Yours. + + + + +LETTER CCVII + +BLACKHEATH, September 23, 1757 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received but the day before yesterday your letter of +the 3d, from the headquarters at Selsingen; and, by the way, it is but +the second that I have received from you since your arrival at Hamburg. +Whatever was the cause of your going to the army, I approve of the +effect; for I would have you, as much as possible, see everything that is +to be seen. That is the true useful knowledge, which informs and improves +us when we are young, and amuses us and others when we are old; ‘Olim +haec meminisse juvabit’. I could wish that you would (but I know you will +not) enter in a book, a short note only, of whatever you see or hear, +that is very remarkable: I do not mean a German ALBUM stuffed with +people’s names, and Latin sentences; but I mean such a book, as, if you +do not keep now, thirty years hence you would give a great deal of money +to have kept. ‘A propos de bottes’, for I am told he always wears his; +was his Royal Highness very gracious to you, or not? I have my doubts +about it. The neutrality which he has concluded with Marechal de +Richelieu, will prevent that bloody battle which you expected; but what +the King of Prussia will say to it is another point. He was our only +ally; at present, probably we have not one in the world. If the King of +Prussia can get at Monsieur de Soubize’s, and the Imperial army, before +other troops have joined them, I think he will beat them but what then? +He has three hundred thousand men to encounter afterward. He must submit; +but he may say with truth, ‘Si Pergama dextra defendi potuissent’. The +late action between the Prussians and Russians has only thinned the human +species, without giving either party a victory; which is plain by each +party’s claiming it. Upon my word, our species will pay very dear for the +quarrels and ambition of a few, and those by no means the most valuable +part of it. If the many were wiser than they are, the few must be +quieter, and would perhaps be juster and better than they are. + +Hamburg, I find, swarms with Grafs, Graffins, Fursts, and Furstins, +Hocheits, and Durchlaugticheits. I am glad of it, for you must +necessarily be in the midst of them; and I am still more glad, that, +being in the midst of them, you must necessarily be under some constraint +of ceremony; a thing which you do not love, but which is, however, very +useful. + +I desired you in my last, and I repeat it again in this, to give me an +account of your private and domestic life. + +How do you pass your evenings? Have they, at Hamburg, what are called at +Paris ‘des Maisons’, where one goes without ceremony, sups or not, as one +pleases? Are you adopted in any society? Have you any rational brother +ministers, and which? What sort of things are your operas? In the tender, +I doubt they do not excel; for ‘mein lieber schatz’, and the other +tendernesses of the Teutonic language, would, in my mind, sound but +indifferently, set to soft music; for the bravura parts, I have a great +opinion of them; and ‘das, der donner dich erschlage’, must no doubt, +make a tremendously fine piece of ‘recitativo’, when uttered by an angry +hero, to the rumble of a whole orchestra, including drums, trumpets, and +French horns. Tell me your whole allotment of the day, in which I hope +four hours, at least, are sacred to writing; the others cannot be better +employed than in LIBERAL pleasures. In short, give me a full account of +yourself, in your un-ministerial character, your incognito, without your +‘fiocchi’. I love to see those, in whom I interest myself, in their +undress, rather than in gala; I know them better so. I recommend to you, +‘etiam atque etiam’, method and order in everything you undertake. Do you +observe it in your accounts? If you do not, you will be a beggar, though +you were to receive the appointments of a Spanish Ambassador +extraordinary, which are a thousand pistoles a month; and in your +ministerial business, if you have no regular and stated hours for such +and such parts of it, you will be in the hurry and confusion of the Duke +of N-----, doing everything by halves, and nothing well, nor soon. I +suppose you ‘have been feasted through the Corps diplomatique at Hamburg, +excepting Monsieur Champeaux; with whom, however, I hope you live +‘poliment et galamment’, at all third places. + +Lord Loudon is much blamed here for his ‘retraite des dix milles’, for it +is said that he had above that number, and might consequently have acted +offensively, instead of retreating; especially as his retreat was +contrary to the unanimous opinion (as it is now said) of the council of +war. In our Ministry, I suppose, things go pretty quietly, for the D. of +N. has not plagued me these two months. When his Royal Highness comes +over, which I take it for granted he will do very soon, the great push +will, I presume, be made at his Grace and Mr. Pitt; but without effect if +they agree, as it is visibly their interest to do; and, in that case, +their parliamentary strength will support them against all attacks. You +may remember, I said at first, that the popularity would soon be on the +side of those who opposed the popular Militia Bill; and now it appears so +with a vengeance, in almost every county in England, by the tumults and +insurrections of the people, who swear that they will not be enlisted. +That silly scheme must therefore be dropped, as quietly as may be. Now +that I have told you all that I know, and almost all that I think, I wish +you a good supper and a good-night. + + + + +LETTER CCVIII + +BLACKHEATH, September 30, 1757 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have so little to do, that I am surprised how I can +find time to write to you so often. Do not stare at the seeming paradox; +for it is an undoubted truth, that the less one has to do, the less time +one finds to do it in. One yawns, one procrastinates, one can do it when +one will, and therefore one seldom does it at all; whereas those who have +a great deal of business, must (to use a vulgar expression) buckle to it; +and then they always find time enough to do it in. I hope your own +experience has by this time convinced you of this truth. + +I received your last of the 8th. It is now quite over with a very great +man, who will still be a very great man, though a very unfortunate one. +He has qualities of the mind that put him above the reach of these +misfortunes; and if reduced, as perhaps he may, to the ‘marche’ of +Brandenburg, he will always find in himself the comfort, and with all the +world the credit, of a philosopher, a legislator, a patron, and a +professor of arts and sciences. He will only lose the fame of a +conqueror; a cruel fame, that arises from the destruction of the human +species. Could it be any satisfaction to him to know, I could tell him, +that he is at this time the most popular man in this kingdom; the whole +nation being enraged at that neutrality which hastens and completes his +ruin. Between you and me, the King was not less enraged at it himself, +when he saw the terms of it; and it affected his health more than all +that had happened before. Indeed it seems to me a voluntary concession of +the very worst that could have happened in the worst event. We now begin +to think that our great and secret expedition is intended for Martinico +and St. Domingo; if that be true, and we succeed in the attempt, we shall +recover, and the French lose, one of the most valuable branches of +commerce--I mean sugar. The French now supply all the foreign markets in +Europe with that commodity; we only supply ourselves with it. This would +make us some amends for our ill luck, or ill conduct in North America; +where Lord Loudon, with twelve thousand men, thought himself no match for +the French with but seven; and Admiral Holborne, with seventeen ships of +the line, declined attacking the French, because they had eighteen, and a +greater weight of METAL, according to the new sea-phrase, which was +unknown to Blake. I hear that letters have been sent to both with very +severe reprimands. I am told, and I believe it is true, that we are +negotiating with the Corsican, I will not say rebels, but asserters of +their natural rights; to receive them, and whatever form of government +they think fit to establish, under our protection, upon condition of +their delivering up to us Port Ajaccio; which may be made so strong and +so good a one, as to be a full equivalent for the loss of Port Mahon. +This is, in my mind, a very good scheme; for though the Corsicans are a +parcel of cruel and perfidious rascals, they will in this case be tied +down to us by their own interest and their own danger; a solid security +with knaves, though none with fools. His Royal Highness the Duke is +hourly expected here: his arrival will make some bustle; for I believe it +is certain that he is resolved to make a push at the Duke of N., Pitt and +Co.; but it will be ineffectual, if they continue to agree, as, to my +CERTAIN KNOWLEDGE, they do at present. This parliament is theirs, +‘caetera quis nescit’? + +Now that I have told you all that I know or have heard, of public +matters, let us talk of private ones that more nearly and immediately +concern us. Admit me to your fire-side, in your little room; and as you +would converse with me there, write to me for the future from thence. Are +you completely ‘nippe’ yet? Have you formed what the world calls +connections? that is, a certain number of acquaintances whom, from +accident or choice, you frequent more than others: Have you either fine +or well-bred women there? ‘Y a-t-il quelque bon ton’? All fat and fair, I +presume; too proud and too cold to make advances, but, at the same time, +too well-bred and too warm to reject them, when made by ‘un honnete homme +avec des manieres’. + +Mr.------is to be married, in about a month, to Miss------. I am very +glad of it; for, as he will never be a man of the world, but will always +lead a domestic and retired life, she seems to have been made on purpose +for him. Her natural turn is as grave and domestic as his; and she seems +to have been kept by her aunts ‘a la grace’, instead of being raised in a +hot bed, as most young ladies are of late. If, three weeks hence, you +write him a short compliment of congratulation upon the occasion, he, his +mother, and ‘tutti quanti’, would be extremely pleased with it. Those +attentions are always kindly taken, and cost one nothing but pen, ink, +and paper. I consider them as draughts upon good-breeding, where the +exchange is always greatly in favor of the drawer. ‘A propos’ of +exchange; I hope you have, with the help of your secretary, made yourself +correctly master of all that sort of knowledge--Course of Exchange, +‘Agie, Banco, Reiche-Thalers’, down to ‘Marien Groschen’. It is very +little trouble to learn it; it is often of great use to know it. +Good-night, and God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCIX + +BLACKHEATH, October 10, 1757 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: It is not without some difficulty that I snatch this +moment of leisure from my extreme idleness, to inform you of the present +lamentable and astonishing state of affairs here, which you would know +but imperfectly from the public papers, and but partially from your +private correspondents. ‘Or sus’ then--Our in vincible Armada, which cost +at least half a million, sailed, as you know, some weeks ago; the object +kept an inviolable secret: conjectures various, and expectations great. +Brest was perhaps to be taken; but Martinico and St. Domingo, at least. +When lo! the important island of Aix was taken without the least +resistance, seven hundred men made prisoners, and some pieces of cannon +carried off. From thence we sailed toward Rochfort, which it seems was +our main object; and consequently one should have supposed that we had +pilots on board who knew all the soundings and landing places there and +thereabouts: but no; for General M-----t asked the Admiral if he could +land him and the troops near Rochfort? The Admiral said, with great ease. +To which the General replied, but can you take us on board again? To +which the Admiral answered, that, like all naval operations, will depend +upon the wind. If so, said the General, I’ll e’en go home again. A +Council of War was immediately called, where it was unanimously resolved, +that it was ADVISABLE to return; accordingly they are returned. As the +expectations of the whole nation had been raised to the highest pitch, +the universal disappointment and indignation have arisen in proportion; +and I question whether the ferment of men’s minds was ever greater. +Suspicions, you may be sure, are various and endless, but the most +prevailing one is, that the tail of the Hanover neutrality, like that of +a comet, extended itself to Rochfort. What encourages this suspicion is, +that a French man of war went unmolested through our whole fleet, as it +lay near Rochfort. Haddock’s whole story is revived; Michel’s +representations are combined with other circumstances; and the whole +together makes up a mass of discontent, resentment, and even fury, +greater than perhaps was ever known in this country before. These are the +facts, draw your own conclusions from them; for my part, I am lost in +astonishment and conjectures, and do not know where to fix. My experience +has shown me, that many things which seem extremely probable are not +true: and many which seem highly improbable are true; so that I will +conclude this article, as Josephus does almost every article of his +history, with saying, BUT OF THIS EVERY MAN WILL BELIEVE AS HE THINKS +PROPER. What a disgraceful year will this be in the annals of this +country! May its good genius, if ever it appears again, tear out those +sheets, thus stained and blotted by our ignominy! + +Our domestic affairs are, as far as I know anything of them, in the same +situation as when I wrote to you last; but they will begin to be in +motion upon the approach of the session, and upon the return of the Duke, +whose arrival is most impatiently expected by the mob of London; though +not to strew flowers in his way. + +I leave this place next Saturday, and London the Saturday following, to +be the next day at Bath. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCX + +LONDON, October 17, 1757. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last, of the 30th past, was a very good letter; and +I will believe half of what you assure me, that you returned to the +Landgrave’s civilities. I cannot possibly go farther than half, knowing +that you are not lavish of your words, especially in that species of +eloquence called the adulatory. Do not use too much discretion in +profiting of the Landgrave’s naturalization of you; but go pretty often +and feed with him. Choose the company of your superiors, whenever you can +have it; that is the right and true pride. The mistaken and silly pride +is, to PRIMER among inferiors. + +Hear, O Israel! and wonder. On Sunday morning last, the Duke gave up his +commission of Captain General and his regiment of guards. You will ask me +why? I cannot tell you, but I will tell you the causes assigned; which, +perhaps, are none of them the true ones. It is said that the King +reproached him with having exceeded his powers in making the Hanover +Convention, which his R. H. absolutely denied, and threw up thereupon. +This is certain, that he appeared at the drawing-room at Kensington, last +Sunday, after having quitted, and went straight to Windsor; where, his +people say, that he intends to reside quietly, and amuse himself as a +private man. But I conjecture that matters will soon be made up again, +and that he will resume his employments. You will easily imagine the +speculations this event has occasioned in the public; I shall neither +trouble you nor myself with relating them; nor would this sheet of paper, +or even a quire more, contain them. Some refine enough to suspect that it +is a concerted quarrel, to justify SOMEBODY TO SOMEBODY, with regard to +the Convention; but I do not believe it. + +His R. H.’s people load the Hanover Ministers, and more particularly our +friend Munchausen here, with the whole blame; but with what degree of +truth I know not. This only is certain, that the whole negotiation of +that affair was broached and carried on by the Hanover Ministers and +Monsieur Stemberg at Vienna, absolutely unknown to the English Ministers, +till it was executed. This affair combined (for people will combine it) +with the astonishing return of our great armament, not only ‘re infecta’, +but even ‘intentata’, makes such a jumble of reflections, conjectures, +and refinements, that one is weary of hearing them. Our Tacituses and +Machiavels go deep, suspect the worst, and, perhaps, as they often do, +overshoot the mark. For my own part, I fairly confess that I am +bewildered, and have not certain ‘postulata’ enough, not only to found +any opinion, but even to form conjectures upon: and this is the language +which I think you should hold to all who speak to you, as to be sure all +will, upon that subject. Plead, as you truly may, your own ignorance; and +say, that it is impossible to judge of those nice points, at such a +distance, and without knowing all circumstances, which you cannot be +supposed to do. And as to the Duke’s resignation; you should, in my +opinion, say, that perhaps there might be a little too much vivacity in +the case, but that, upon the whole, you make no doubt of the thing’s +being soon set right again; as, in truth, I dare say it will. Upon these +delicate occasions, you must practice the ministerial shrugs and +‘persiflage’; for silent gesticulations, which you would be most inclined +to, would not be sufficient: something must be said, but that something, +when analyzed, must amount to nothing. As for instance, ‘Il est vrai +qu’on s’y perd, mais que voulez-vous que je vous dise?--il y a bien du +pour et du contre; un petit Resident ne voit gueres le fond du sac.--Il +faut attendre.--Those sort of expletives are of infinite use; and nine +people in ten think they mean something. But to the Landgrave of Hesse I +think you would do well to say, in seeming confidence, that you have good +reason to believe that the principal objection of his Majesty to the +convention was that his Highness’s interests, and the affair of his +troops, were not sufficiently considered in it. To the Prussian Minister +assert boldly that you know ‘de science certaine’, that the principal +object of his Majesty’s and his British Ministry’s intention is not only +to perform all their present engagements with his Master, but to take new +and stronger ones for his support; for this is true--AT LEAST AT PRESENT. + +You did very well in inviting Comte Bothmar to dine with you. You see how +minutely I am informed of your proceedings, though not from yourself. +Adieu. + +I go to Bath next Saturday; but direct your letters, as usual, to London. + + + + +LETTER CCXI + +BATH, October 26, 1757. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here safe, but far from sound, last Sunday. I +have consequently drunk these waters but three days, and yet I find +myself something better for them. The night before I left London. I was +for some hours at Newcastle House, where the letters, which came that +morning, lay upon the table: and his Grace singled out yours with great +approbation, and, at the same time, assured me of his Majesty’s +approbation, too. To these two approbations I truly add my own, which, +‘sans vanite’, may perhaps be near as good as the other two. In that +letter you venture ‘vos petits raisonnemens’ very properly, and then as +properly make an excuse for doing so. Go on so, with diligence, and you +will be, what I began to despair of your ever being, SOMEBODY. I am +persuaded, if you would own the truth, that you feel yourself now much +better satisfied with yourself than you were while you did nothing. + +Application to business, attended with approbation and success, flatters +and animates the mind: which, in idleness and inaction, stagnates and +putrefies. I could wish that every rational man would, every night when +he goes to bed, ask himself this question, What have I done to-day? Have +I done anything that can be of use to myself or others? Have I employed +my time, or have I squandered it? Have I lived out the day, or have I +dozed it away in sloth and laziness? A thinking being must be pleased or +confounded, according as he can answer himself these questions. I observe +that you are in the secret of what is intended, and what Munchausen is +gone to Stade to prepare; a bold and dangerous experiment in my mind, and +which may probably end in a second volume to the “History of the +Palatinate,” in the last century. His Serene Highness of Brunswick has, +in my mind, played a prudent and saving game; and I am apt to believe +that the other Serene Highness, at Hamburg, is more likely to follow his +example than to embark in the great scheme. + +I see no signs of the Duke’s resuming his employments; but on the +contrary I am assured that his Majesty is coolly determined to do as well +as he can without him. The Duke of Devonshire and Fox have worked hard to +make up matters in the closet, but to no purpose. People’s self-love is +very apt to make them think themselves more necessary than they are: and +I shrewdly suspect, that his Royal Highness has been the dupe of that +sentiment, and was taken at his word when he least suspected it; like my +predecessor, Lord Harrington, who when he went into the closet to resign +the seals, had them not about him: so sure he thought himself of being +pressed to keep them. + +The whole talk of London, of this place, and of every place in the whole +kingdom, is of our great, expensive, and yet fruitless expedition; I have +seen an officer who was there, a very sensible and observing man: who +told me that had we attempted Rochfort, the day after we took the island +of Aix, our success had been infallible; but that, after we had sauntered +(God knows why) eight or ten days in the island, he thinks the attempt +would have been impracticable, because the French had in that time got +together all the troops in that neighborhood, to a very considerable +number. In short, there must have been some secret in that whole affair +that has not yet transpired; and I cannot help suspecting that it came +from Stade. WE had not been successful there; and perhaps WE were not +desirous that an expedition, in which WE had neither been concerned nor +consulted, should prove so; M----t was OUR creature, and a word to the +wise will sometimes go a great way. M----t is to have a public trial, +from which the public expects great discoveries--Not I. + +Do you visit Soltikow, the Russian Minister, whose house, I am told, is +the great scene of pleasures at Hamburg? His mistress, I take for +granted, is by this time dead, and he wears some other body’s shackles. +Her death comes with regard to the King of Prussia, ‘comme la moutarde +apres diner’. I am curious to see what tyrant will succeed her, not by +divine, but by military right; for, barbarous as they are now, and still +more barbarous as they have been formerly, they have had very little +regard to the more barbarous notion of divine, indefeasible, hereditary +right. + +The Praetorian bands, that is, the guards, I presume, have been engaged +in the interests of the Imperial Prince; but still I think that little +John of Archangel will be heard upon this occasion, unless prevented by a +quieting draught of hemlock or nightshade; for I suppose they are not +arrived to the politer and genteeler poisons of Acqua Tufana,--[Acqua +Tufana, a Neapolitan slow poison, resembling clear water, and invented by +a woman at Naples, of the name of Tufana.]--sugar-plums, etc. + +Lord Halifax has accepted his old employment, with the honorary addition +of the Cabinet Council. And so we heartily wish you a goodnight. + + + + +LETTER CCXII + +BATH, November 4, 1757 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The Sons of Britain, like those of Noah, must cover their +parent’s shame as well as they can; for to retrieve its honor is now too +late. One would really think that our ministers and generals were all as +drunk as the Patriarch was. However, in your situation, you must not be +Cham; but spread your cloak over our disgrace, as far as it will go. +M----t calls aloud for a public trial; and in that, and that only, the +public agree with him. There will certainly be one, but of what kind is +not yet fixed. Some are for a parliamentary inquiry, others for a martial +one; neither will, in my opinion, discover the true secret; for a secret +there most unquestionably is. Why we stayed six whole days in the island +of Aix, mortal cannot imagine; which time the French employed, as it was +obvious they would, in assembling their troops in the neighborhood of +Rochfort, and making our attempt then really impracticable. The day after +we had taken the island of Aix, your friend, Colonel Wolf, publicly +offered to do the business with five hundred men and three ships only. In +all these complicated political machines there are so many wheels, that +it is always difficult, and sometimes im possible, to guess which of them +gives direction to the whole. Mr. Pitt is convinced that the principal +wheels, or, if you will, the spoke in his wheel, came from Stade. This is +certain, at least that M----t was the man of confidence with that person. +Whatever be the truth of the case, there is, to be sure, hitherto an +‘hiatus valde deflendus’. + +The meeting of the parliament will certainly be very numerous, were it +only from curiosity: but the majority on the side of the Court will, I +dare say, be a great one. The people of the late Captain-general, however +inclined to oppose, will be obliged to concur. Their commissions, which +they have no desire to lose, will make them tractable; for those +gentlemen, though all men of honor, are of Sosia’s mind, ‘que le vrai +Amphitrion est celui ou l’on dine’. The Tories and the city have engaged +to support Pitt; the Whigs, the Duke of Newcastle; the independent and +the impartial, as you well know, are not worth mentioning. It is said +that the Duke intends to bring the affair of his Convention into +parliament, for his own justification; I can hardly believe it; as I +cannot conceive that transactions so merely electoral can be proper +objects of inquiry or deliberation for a British parliament; and, +therefore, should such a motion be made, I presume it will be immediately +quashed. By the commission lately given to Sir John Ligonier, of General +and Commander-in-chief of all his Majesty’s forces in Great Britain, the +door seems to be not only shut, but bolted, against his Royal Highness’s +return; and I have good reason to be convinced that that breach is +irreparable. The reports of changes in the Ministry, I am pretty sure, +are idle and groundless. The Duke of Newcastle and Mr. Pitt really agree +very well; not, I presume, from any sentimental tenderness for each +other, but from a sense that it is their mutual interest: and, as the +late Captain-general’s party is now out of the question, I do not see +what should produce the least change. + +The visit made lately to Berlin was, I dare say, neither a friendly nor +an inoffensive one. The Austrians always leave behind them pretty lasting +monuments of their visits, or rather visitations: not so much, I believe, +from their thirst of glory, as from their hunger of prey. + +This winter, I take for granted, must produce a piece of some kind or +another; a bad one for us, no doubt, and yet perhaps better than we +should get the year after. I suppose the King of Prussia is negotiating +with France, and endeavoring by those means to get out of the scrape with +the loss only of Silesia, and perhaps Halberstadt, by way of +indemnification to Saxony; and, considering all circumstances, he would +be well off upon those terms. But then how is Sweden to be satisfied? +Will the Russians restore Memel? Will France have been at all this +expense ‘gratis’? Must there be no acquisition for them in Flanders? I +dare say they have stipulated something of that sort for themselves, by +the additional and secret treaty, which I know they made, last May, with +the Queen of Hungary. Must we give up whatever the French please to +desire in America, besides the cession of Minorca in perpetuity? I fear +we must, or else raise twelve millions more next year, to as little +purpose as we did this, and have consequently a worse peace afterward. I +turn my eyes away, as much as I can, from this miserable prospect; but, +as a citizen and member of society, it recurs to my imagination, +notwithstanding all my endeavors to banish it from my thoughts. I can do +myself nor my country no good; but I feel the wretched situation of both; +the state of the latter makes me better bear that of the former; and, +when I am called away from my station here, I shall think it rather (as +Cicero says of Crassus) ‘mors donata quam vita erepta’. + +I have often desired, but in vain, the favor of being admitted into your +private apartment at, Hamburg, and of being informed of your private life +there. Your mornings, I hope and believe, are employed in business; but +give me an account of the remainder of the day, which I suppose is, and +ought to be, appropriated to amusements and pleasures. In what houses are +you domestic? Who are so in yours? In short, let me in, and do not be +denied to me. + +Here I am, as usual, seeing few people, and hearing fewer; drinking the +waters regularly to a minute, and am something the better for them. I +read a great deal, and vary occasionally my dead company. I converse with +grave folios in the morning, while my head is clearest and my attention +strongest: I take up less severe quartos after dinner; and at night I +choose the mixed company and amusing chit-chat of octavos and duodecimos. +‘Ye tire parti de tout ce gue je puis’; that is my philosophy; and I +mitigate, as much as I can, my physical ills by diverting my attention to +other objects. + +Here is a report that Admiral Holborne’s fleet is destroyed, in a manner, +by a storm: I hope it is not true, in the full extent of the report; but +I believe it has suffered. This would fill up the measure of our +misfortunes. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCXIII + +BATH, November 20, 1757 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I write to you now, because I love to write to you; and +hope that my letters are welcome to you; for otherwise I have very little +to inform you of. The King of Prussia’s late victory you are better +informed, of than we are here. It has given infinite joy to the +unthinking public, who are not aware that it comes too late in the year +and too late in the war, to be attended with any very great consequences. +There are six or seven thousand of the human species less than there were +a month ago, and that seems to me to be all. However, I am glad of it, +upon account of the pleasure and the glory which it gives the King of +Prussia, to whom I wish well as a man, more than as a king. And surely he +is so great a man, that had he lived seventeen or eighteen hundred years +ago, and his life been transmitted to us in a language that we could not +very well understand--I mean either Greek or Latin--we should have talked +of him as we do now of your Alexanders, your Caesars, and others; with +whom, I believe, we have but a very slight acquaintance. ‘Au reste’, I do +not see that his affairs are much mended by this victory. The same +combination of the great Powers of Europe against him still subsists, and +must at last prevail. I believe the French army will melt away, as is +usual, in Germany; but this army is extremely diminished by battles, +fatigues, and desertion: and he will find great difficulties in +recruiting it from his own already exhausted dominions. He must +therefore, and to be sure will, negotiate privately with the French, and +get better terms that way than he could any other. + +The report of the three general officers, the Duke of Marlborough, Lord +George Sackville, and General Waldegrave, was laid before the King last +Saturday, after their having sat four days upon M----t’s affair: nobody +yet knows what it is; but it is generally believed that M----t will be +brought to a court-martial. That you may not mistake this matter, as MOST +people here do, I must explain to you, that this examination before the +three above-mentioned general officers, was by no means a trial; but only +a previous inquiry into his conduct, to see whether there was, or was +not, cause to bring him to a regular trial before a court-martial. The +case is exactly parallel to that of a grand jury; who, upon a previous +and general examination, find, or do not find, a bill to bring the matter +before the petty jury; where the fact is finally tried. For my own part, +my opinion is fixed upon that affair: I am convinced that the expedition +was to be defeated; and nothing that can appear before a court-martial +can make me alter that opinion. I have been too long acquainted with +human nature to have great regard for human testimony; and a very great +degree of probability, supported by various concurrent circumstances, +conspiring in one point, will have much greater weight with me, than +human testimony upon oath, or even upon honor; both which I have +frequently seen considerably warped by private views. + +The parliament, which now stands prorogued to the first of next month, it +is thought will be put off for some time longer, till we know in what +light to lay before it the state of our alliance with Prussia, since the +conclusion of the Hanover neutrality; which, if it did not quite break +it, made at least a great flaw in it. + +The birth-day was neither fine nor crowded; and no wonder, since the King +was that day seventy-five. The old Court and the young one are much +better together since the Duke’s retirement; and the King has presented +the Prince of Wales with a service of plate. + +I am still UNWELL, though I drink these waters very regularly. I will +stay here at least six weeks longer; where I am much quieter than I +should be allowed to be in town. When things are in such a miserable +situation as they are at present, I desire neither to be concerned nor +consulted, still less quoted. Adieu! + + + + +LETTER CCXIV + +BATH, November 26, 1757 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received by the last mail your short account of the +King of Prussia’s victory; which victory, contrary to custom, turns out +more complete than it was at first reported to be. This appears by an +intercepted letter from Monsieur de St. Germain to Monsieur d’Affry, at +The Hague, in which he tells him, ‘Cette arme est entierement fondue’, +and lays the blame, very strongly, upon Monsieur de Soubize. But, be it +greater or be it less, I am glad of it; because the King of Prussia (whom +I honor and almost adore) I am sure is. Though ‘d’ailleurs’, between you +and me, ‘ou est-ce que cela mene’? To nothing, while that formidable +union of three great Powers of Europe subsists against him, could that be +any way broken, something might be done; without which nothing can. I +take it for granted that the King of Prussia will do all he can to detach +France. Why should not we, on our part, try to detach Russia? At least, +in our present distress, ‘omnia tentanda’, and sometimes a lucky and +unexpected hit turns up. This thought came into my head this morning; and +I give it to you, not as a very probable scheme, but as a possible one, +and consequently worth trying. The year of the Russian subsidies +(nominally paid by the Court of Vienna, but really by France) is near +expired. The former probably cannot, and perhaps the latter will not, +renew them. The Court of Petersburg is beggarly, profuse, greedy, and by +no means scrupulous. Why should not we step in there, and out-bid them? +If we could, we buy a great army at once; which would give an entire new +turn to the affairs of that part of the world at least. And if we bid +handsomely, I do not believe the ‘bonne foi’ of that Court would stand in +the way. Both our Court and our parliament would, I am very sure, give a +very great sum, and very cheerfully, for this purpose. In the next place, +Why should not you wriggle yourself, if possible, into so great a scheme? +You are, no doubt, much acquainted with the Russian Resident, Soltikow; +Why should you not sound him, as entirely from yourself, upon this +subject? You may ask him, What, does your Court intend to go on next year +in the pay of France, to destroy the liberties of all Europe, and throw +universal monarchy into the hands of that already great and always +ambitious Power? I know you think, or at least call yourselves, the +allies of the Empress Queen; but is it not plain that she will be, in the +first place, and you in the next, the dupes of France? At this very time +you are doing the work of France and Sweden: and that for some miserable +subsidies, much inferior to those which I am sure you might have, in a +better cause, and more consistent with the true interest of Russia. +Though not empowered, I know the manner of thinking of my own Court so +well upon this subject, that I will venture to promise you much better +terms than those you have now, without the least apprehensions of being +disavowed. Should he listen to this, and what more may occur to you to +say upon this subject, and ask you, ‘En ecrirai je d ma cour? Answer him, +‘Ecrivez, ecrivex, Monsieur hardiment’. Je prendrai tout cela sur moi’. +Should this happen, as perhaps, and as I heartily wish it may, then write +an exact relation of it to your own Court. Tell them that you thought the +measure of such great importance, that you could not help taking this +little step toward bringing it about; but that you mentioned it only as +from yourself, and that you have not in the least committed them by it. +If Soltikow lends himself in any degree to this, insinuate that, in the +present situation of affairs, and particularly of the King’s Electoral +dominions, you are very sure that his Majesty would have ‘une +reconnoissance sans bornes’ for ALL those by whose means so desirable a +revival of an old and long friendship should be brought about. You will +perhaps tell me that, without doubt, Mr. Keith’s instructions are to the +same effect: but I will answer you, that you can, IF YOU PLEASE, do it +better than Mr. Keith; and in the next place that, be all that as it +will, it must be very advantageous to you at home, to show that you have +at least a contriving head, and an alertness in business. + +I had a letter by the last post, from the Duke of Newcastle, in which he +congratulates me, in his own name and in Lord Hardwicke’s, upon the +approbation which your dispatches give, not only to them two, but to +OTHERS. This success, so early, should encourage your diligence and rouse +your ambition if you have any; you may go a great way, if you desire it, +having so much time before you. + +I send you here inclosed the copy of the Report of the three general +officers, appointed to examine previously into the conduct of General +M----t; it is ill written, and ill spelled, but no matter; you will +decipher it. You will observe, by the tenor of it, that it points +strongly to a court-martial; which, no doubt, will soon be held upon him. +I presume there will be no shooting in the final sentence; but I do +suppose there will be breaking, etc. + +I have had some severe returns of my old complaints last week, and am +still unwell; I cannot help it. + +A friend of yours arrived here three days ago; she seems to me to be a +serviceable strong-bodied bay mare, with black mane and tail; you easily +guess who I mean. She is come with mamma, and without ‘caro sposo’. + +Adieu! my head will not let me go on longer. + + + + +LETTER CCXV + +BATH, December 31, 1757 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 18th, with +the inclosed papers. I cannot help observing that, till then, you never +acknowledged the receipt of any one of my letters. + +I can easily conceive that party spirit, among your brother ministers at +Hamburg, runs as high as you represent it, because I can easily believe +the errors of the human mind; but at the same time I must observe, that +such a spirit is the spirit of little minds and subaltern ministers, who +think to atone by zeal for their want of merit and importance. The +political differences of the several courts should never influence the +personal behavior of their several ministers toward one another. There is +a certain ‘procede noble et galant’, which should always be observed +among the ministers of powers even at war with each other, which will +always turn out to the advantage of the ablest, who will in those +conversations find, or make, opportunities of throwing out, or of +receiving useful hints. When I was last at The Hague, we were at war with +both France and Spain; so that I could neither visit, nor be visited by, +the Ministers of those two Crowns; but we met every day, or dined at +third places, where we embraced as personal friends, and trifled, at the +same time, upon our being political enemies; and by this sort of badinage +I discovered some things which I wanted to know. There is not a more +prudent maxim than to live with one’s enemies as if they may one day +become one’s friends; as it commonly happens, sooner or later, in the +vicissitudes of political affairs. + +To your question, which is a rational and prudent one, Whether I was +authorized to give you the hints concerning Russia by any people in power +here, I will tell you that I was not: but, as I had pressed them to try +what might be done with Russia, and got Mr. Keith to be dispatched there +some months sooner than otherwise, I dare say he would, with the proper +instructions for that purpose. I wished that, by the hints I gave you, +you might have got the start of him, and the merit, at least, of having +‘entame’ that matter with Soltikow. What you have to do with him now, +when you meet with him at any third place, or at his own house (where you +are at liberty to go, while Russia has a Minister in London, and we a +Minister at Petersburg), is, in my opinion, to say to him, in an easy +cheerful manner, ‘He bien, Monsieur, je me flatte que nous serons bientot +amis publics, aussi bien qu’amis personels’. To which he will probably +ask, Why, or how? You will reply, Because you know that Mr. Keith is gone +to his Court with instructions, which you think must necessarily be +agreeable there. And throw out to him that nothing but a change of their +present system can save Livonia to Russia; for that he cannot suppose +that, when the Swedes shall have recovered Pomerania they will long leave +Russia in quiet possession of Livonia. + +If he is so much a Frenchman as you say, he will make you some weak +answers to this; but, as you will have the better of the argument on your +side, you may remind him of the old and almost uninterrupted connection +between France and Sweden, the inveterate enemy of Russia. Many other +arguments will naturally occur to you in such a conversation, if you have +it. In this case, there is a piece of ministerial art, which is sometimes +of use; and that is, to sow jealousies among one’s enemies, by a seeming +preference shown to some one of them. Monsieur Hecht’s reveries are +reveries indeed. How should his Master have made the GOLDEN ARRANGEMENTS +which he talks of, and which are to be forged into shackles for General +Fermor? The Prussian finances are not in a condition now to make such +expensive arrangements. But I think you may tell Monsieur Hecht, in +confidence, that you hope the instructions with which you know that Mr. +Keith is gone to Petersburg, may have some effect upon the measures of +that Court. + +I would advise you to live with that same Monsieur Hecht in all the +confidence, familiarity, and connection, which prudence will allow. I +mean it with regard to the King of Prussia himself, by whom I could wish +you to be known and esteemed as much as possible. It may be of use to you +some day or other. If man, courage, conduct, constancy, can get the +better of all the difficulties which the King of Prussia has to struggle +with, he will rise superior to them. But still, while his alliance +subsists against him, I dread ‘les gros escadrons’. His last victory, of +the 5th, was certainly the completest that has been heard of these many +years. I heartily wish the Prince of Brunswick just such a one over +Monsieur de Richelieu’s army; and that he may take my old acquaintance +the Marechal, and send him over here to polish and perfume us. + +I heartily wish you, in the plain, home-spun style, a great number of +happy new years, well employed in forming both your mind and your +manners, to be useful and agreeable to yourself, your country, and your +friends! That these wishes are sincere, your secretary’s brother will, by +the time of your receiving this, have remitted you a proof, from Yours. + + + + +LETTERS TO HIS SON + +LETTER CCXVI + +LONDON, February 8, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received by the same post your two letters of the 13th +and 17th past; and yesterday that of the 27th, with the Russian manifesto +inclosed, in which her Imperial Majesty of all the Russias has been +pleased to give every reason, except the true one, for the march of her +troops against the King of Prussia. The true one, I take it to be, that +she has just received a very great sum of money from France, or the +Empress queen, or both, for that purpose. ‘Point d’argent, point de +Russe’, is now become a maxim. Whatever may be the motive of their march, +the effects must be bad; and, according to my speculations, those troops +will replace the French in Hanover and Lower Saxony; and the French will +go and join the Austrian army. You ask me if I still despond? Not so much +as I did after the battle of Colen: the battles of Rosbach and Lissa were +drams to me, and gave me some momentary spirts: but though I do not +absolutely despair, I own I greatly distrust. I readily allow the King of +Prussia to be ‘nec pluribus impar’; but still, when the ‘plures’ amount +to a certain degree of plurality, courage and abilities must yield at +last. Michel here assures me that he does not mind the Russians; but, as +I have it from the gentleman’s own mouth, I do not believe him. We shall +very soon send a squadron to the Baltic to entertain the Swedes; which I +believe will put an end to their operations in Pomerania; so that I have +no great apprehensions from that quarter; but Russia, I confess, sticks +in my stomach. + +Everything goes smoothly in parliament; the King of Prussia has united +all our parties in his support; and the Tories have declared that they +will give Mr. Pitt unlimited credit for this session; there has not been +one single division yet upon public points, and I believe will not. Our +American expedition is preparing to go soon; the dis position of that +affair seems to me a little extraordinary. Abercrombie is to be the +sedantary, and not the acting commander; Amherst, Lord Howe, and Wolfe, +are to be the acting, and I hope the active officers. I wish they may +agree. Amherst, who is the oldest officer, is under the influence of the +same great person who influenced Mordaunt, so much to honor and advantage +of this country. This is most certain, that we have force enough in +America to eat up the French alive in Canada, Quebec, and Louisburg, if +we have but skill and spirit enough to exert it properly; but of that I +am modest enough to doubt. + +When you come to the egotism, which I have long desired you to come to +with me, you need make no excuses for it. The egotism is as proper and as +satisfactory to one’s friends, as it is impertinent and misplaced with +strangers. I desire to see you in your every-day clothes, by your +fireside, in your pleasures; in short, in your private life; but I have +not yet been able to obtain this. Whenever you condescend to do it, as +you promise, stick to truth; for I am not so uninformed of Hamburg as +perhaps you may think. + +As for myself, I am very UNWELL, and very weary of being so; and with +little hopes, at my age, of ever being otherwise. I often wish for the +end of the wretched remnant of my life; and that wish is a rational one; +but then the innate principle of self-preservation, wisely implanted in +our natures for obvious purposes, opposes that wish, and makes us +endeavor to spin out our thread as long as we can, however decayed and +rotten it may be; and, in defiance of common sense, we seek on for that +chymic gold, which beggars us when old. + +Whatever your amusements, or pleasures, may be at Hamburg, I dare say you +taste them more sensibly than ever you did in your life, now that you +have business enough to whet your appetite to them. Business, one-half of +the day, is the best preparation for the pleasures of the other half. I +hope, and believe, that it will be with you as it was with an apothecary +whom I knew at Twickenham. A considerable estate fell to him by an +unexpected accident; upon which he thought it decent to leave off his +business; accordingly he generously gave up his shop and his stock to his +head man, set up his coach, and resolved to live like a gentleman; but, +in less than a month, the man, used to business, found, that living like +a gentleman was dying of ennui; upon which he bought his shop and stock, +resumed his trade, and lived very happily, after he had something to do. +Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCXVII + +LONDON, February 24, 1758 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 2d instant, with +the inclosed; which I return you, that there may be no chasm in your +papers. I had heard before of Burrish’s death, and had taken some steps +thereupon; but I very soon dropped that affair, for ninety-nine good +reasons; the first of which was, that nonody is to go in his room, and +that, had he lived, he was to have been recalled from Munich. But another +reason, more flattering for you, was, that you could not be spared from +Hamburg. Upon the whole, I am not sorry for it, as the place where you +are now is the great entrepot of business; and, when it ceases to be so, +you will necessarily go to some of the courts in the neighborhood +(Berlin, I hope and believe), which will be a much more desirable +situation than to rush at Munich, where we can never have any business +beyond a subsidy. Do but go on, and exert yourself were you are, and +better things will soon follow. + +Surely the inaction of our army at Hanover continues too long. We +expected wonders from it some time ago, and yet nothing is attempted. The +French will soon receive reinforcements, and then be too strong for us; +whereas they are now most certainly greatly weakened by desertion, +sickness, and deaths. Does the King of Prussia send a body of men to our +army or not? or has the march of the Russians cut him out work for all +his troops? I am afraid it has. If one body of Russians joins the +Austrian army in Moravia, and another body the Swedes in Pomerania, he +will have his hands very full, too full, I fear. The French say they will +have an army of 180,000 men in Germany this year; the Empress Queen will +have 150,000; if the Russians have but 40,000, what can resist such a +force? The King of Prussia may say, indeed, with more justice than ever +any one person could before him, ‘Moi. Medea superest’. + +You promised the some egotism; but I have received none yet. Do you +frequent the Landgrave? ‘Hantex vous les grands de la terre’? What are +the connections of the evening? All this, and a great deal more of this +kind, let me know in your next. + +The House of Commons is still very unanimous. There was a little popular +squib let off this week, in a motion of Sir John Glynne’s, seconded by +Sir John Philips, for annual parliaments. It was a very cold scent, and +put an end to by a division of 190 to 70. + +Good-night. Work hard, that you may divert yourself well. + + + + +LETTER CCXVIII + +LONDON, March 4, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I should have been much more surprised at the contents of +your letter of the 17th past, if I had not happened to have seen Sir C. +W., about three or four hours before I received it. I thought he talked +in an extraordinary manner; he engaged that the King of Prussia should be +master of Vienna in the month of May; and he told me that you were very +much in love with his daughter. Your letter explained all this to me; and +next day, Lord and Lady E-----gave me innumerable instances of his +frenzy, with which I shall not trouble you. What inflamed it the more (if +it did not entirely occasion it) was a great quantity of cantharides, +which, it seems, he had taken at Hamburgh, to recommend himself, I +suppose, to Mademoiselle John. He was let blood four times on board the +ship, and has been let blood four times since his arrival here; but still +the inflammation continues very high. He is now under the care of his +brothers, who do not let him go abroad. They have written to this same +Mademoiselle John, to prevent if they can, her coming to England, and +told her the case; which, when she hears she must be as mad as he is, if +she takes the journey. By the way, she must be ‘une dame aventuriere’, to +receive a note for 10,000 roubles from a man whom she had known but three +days! to take a contract of marriage, knowing he was married already; and +to engage herself to follow him to England. I suppose this is not the +first adventure of the sort which she has had. + +After the news we received yesterday, that the French had evacuated +Hanover, all but Hamel, we daily expect much better. We pursue them, we +cut them off ‘en detail’, and at last we destroy their whole army. I wish +it may happen; and, moreover, I think it not impossible. + +My head is much out of order, and only allows me to wish you good-night. + + + + +LETTER CCXIX + +LONDON, March 22, 1758 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now your letter of the 8th lying before me, with +the favorable account of our progress in Lower Saxony, and reasonable +prospect of more decisive success. I confess I did not expect this, when +my friend Munchausen took his leave of me, to go to Stade, and break the +neutrality; I thought it at least a dangerous, but rather a desperate +undertaking; whereas, hitherto, it has proved a very fortunate one. I +look upon the French army as ‘fondue’; and, what with desertion, deaths, +and epidemical distempers, I dare say not a third of it will ever return +to France. The great object is now, what the Russians can or will do; and +whether the King of Prussia can hinder their junction with the Austrians, +by beating either, before they join. I will trust him for doing all that +can be done. + +Sir C. W. is still in confinement, and, I fear, will always be so, for he +seems ‘cum ratione insanire’; the physicians have collected all he has +said and done that indicated an alienation of mind, and have laid it +before him in writing; he has answered it in writing too, and justifies +himself in the most plausible arguments than can possibly be urged. He +tells his brother, and the few who are allowed to see him, that they are +such narrow and contracted minds themselves, that they take those for mad +who have a great and generous way of thinking; as, for instance, when he +determined to send his daughter over to you in a fortnight, to be +married, without any previous agreement or settlements, it was because he +had long known you, and loved you as a man of sense and honor; and +therefore would not treat with you as with an attorney. That as for +Mademoiselle John, he knew her merit and her circumstances; and asks, +whether it is a sign of madness to have a due regard for the one, and a +just compassion for the other. I will not tire you with enumerating any +more instances of the poor man’s frenzy; but conclude this subject with +pitying him, and poor human nature, which holds its reason by so +precarious a tenure. The lady, who you tell me is set out, ‘en sera pour +la seine et les fraix du voyage’, for her note is worth no more than her +contract. By the way, she must be a kind of ‘aventuriere’, to engage so +easily in such an adventure with a man whom she had not known above a +week, and whose ‘debut’ of 10,000 roubles showed him not to be in his +right senses. + +You will probably have seen General Yorke, by this time, in his way to +Berlin or Breslau, or wherever the King of Prussia may be. As he keeps +his commission to the States General, I presume he is not to stay long +with his Prussian Majesty; but, however, while he is there, take care to +write to him very constantly, and to give all the information you can. +His father, Lord Hardwicke, is your great puff: he commends your office +letters, exceedingly. I would have the Berlin commission your object, in +good time; never lose view of it. Do all you can to recommend yourself to +the King of Prussia on your side of the water, and to smooth your way for +that commission on this; by the turn which things have taken of late, it +must always be the most important of all foreign commissions from hence. + +I have no news to send you, as things here are extremely quiet; so, +good-night. + + + + +LETTER CCXX + +LONDON, April 25, 1758. + +DEAR FRIEND: I am now two letters in your debt, which I think is the +first time that ever I was so, in the long course of our correspondence. +But, besides that my head has been very much out of order of late, +writing is by no means that easy thing that it was to me formerly. I find +by experience, that the mind and the body are more than married, for they +are most intimately united; and when the one suffers, the other +sympathizes. ‘Non sum qualis eram’: neither my memory nor my invention +are now what they formerly were. It is in a great measure my own fault; I +cannot accuse Nature, for I abused her; and it is reasonable I should +suffer for it. + +I do not like the return of the impression upon your lungs; but the rigor +of the cold may probably have brought it upon you, and your lungs not in +fault. Take care to live very cool, and let your diet be rather low. + +We have had a second winter here, more severe than the first, at least it +seemed so, from a premature summer that we had, for a fortnight, in +March; which brought everything forward, only to be destroyed. I have +experienced it at Blackheath, where the promise of fruit was a most +flattering one, and all nipped in the bud by frost and snow, in April. I +shall not have a single peach or apricot. + +I have nothing to tell you from hence concerning public affairs, but what +you read in the newspapers. This only is extraordinary: that last week, +in the House of Commons, above ten millions were granted, and the whole +Hanover army taken into British pay, with but one single negative, which +was Mr. Viner’s. + +Mr. Pitt gains ground in the closet, and yet does not lose it in the +public. That is new. + +Monsieur Kniphausen has dined with me; he is one of the prettiest fellows +I have seen; he has, with a great deal of life and fire, ‘les manieres +d’un honnete homme, et le ton de la Parfaitement bonne compagnie’. You +like him yourself; try to be like him: it is in your power. + +I hear that Mr. Mitchel is to be recalled, notwithstanding the King of +Prussia’s instances to keep him. But why, is a secret that I cannot +penetrate. + +You will not fail to offer the Landgrave, and the Princess of Hesse (who +I find are going home), to be their agent and commissioner at Hamburg. + +I cannot comprehend the present state of Russia, nor the motions of their +armies. They change their generals once a week; sometimes they march with +rapidity, and now they lie quiet behind the Vistula. We have a thousand +stories here of the interior of that government, none of which I believe. +Some say, that the Great Duke will be set aside. + +Woronzoff is said to be entirely a Frenchman, and that Monsieur de +l’Hopital governs both him and the court. Sir C. W. is said, by his +indiscretions, to have caused the disgrace of Bestuchef, which seems not +impossible. In short, everything of every kind is said, because, I +believe, very little is truly known. ‘A propos’ of Sir C. W.; he is out +of confinement, and gone to his house in the country for the whole +summer. They say he is now very cool and well. I have seen his Circe, at +her window in Pall-Mall; she is painted, powdered, curled, and patched, +and looks ‘l’aventure’. She has been offered, by Sir C. W----‘s friends, +L500 in full of all demands, but will not accept of it. ‘La comtesse veut +plaider’, and I fancy ‘faire autre chose si elle peut. Jubeo to bene +valere. + + + + +LETTER CCXXI + +BLACKHEATH, May 18, O. S. 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have your letter of the 9th now before me, and condole +with you upon the present solitude and inaction of Hamburg. You are now +shrunk from the dignity and importance of a consummate minister, to be +but, as it were, a common man. But this has, at one time or another, been +the case of most great men; who have not always had equal opportunities +of exerting their talents. The greatest must submit to the capriciousness +of fortune; though they can, better than others, improve the favorable +moments. For instance, who could have thought, two years ago, that you +would have been the Atlas of the Northern Pole; but the Good Genius of +the North ordered it so; and now that you have set that part of the globe +right, you return to ‘otium cum dignitate’. But to be serious: now that +you cannot have much office business to do, I could tell you what to do, +that would employ you, I should think, both usefully and agreeably. I +mean, that you should write short memoirs of that busy scene, in which +you have been enough concerned, since your arrival at Hamburg, to be able +to put together authentic facts and anecdotes. I do not know whether you +will give yourself the trouble to do it or not; but I do know, that if +you will, ‘olim hcec meminisse juvabit’. I would have them short, but +correct as to facts and dates. + +I have told Alt, in the strongest manner, your lamentations for the loss +of the House of Cassel, ‘et il en fera rapport a son Serenissime Maitre’. +When you are quite idle (as probably you may be, some time this summer), +why should you not ask leave to make a tour to Cassel for a week? which +would certainly be granted you from hence, and which would be looked upon +as a ‘bon procede’ at Cassel. + +The King of Prussia is probably, by this time, at the gates of Vienna, +making the Queen of Hungary really do what Monsieur de Bellisle only +threatened; sign a peace upon the ramparts of her capital. If she is +obstinate, and will not, she must fly either to Presburg or to Inspruck, +and Vienna must fall. But I think he will offer her reasonable conditions +enough for herself; and I suppose, that, in that case, Caunitz will be +reasonable enough to advise her to accept of them. What turn would the +war take then? Would the French and Russians carry it on without her? The +King of Prussia, and the Prince of Brunswick, would soon sweep them out +of Germany. By this time, too, I believe, the French are entertained in +America with the loss of Cape Breton; and, in consequence of that, +Quebec; for we have a force there equal to both those undertakings, and +officers there, now, that will execute what Lord L------never would so +much as attempt. His appointments were too considerable to let him do +anything that might possibly put an end to the war. Lord Howe, upon +seeing plainly that he was resolved to do nothing, had asked leave to +return, as well as Lord Charles Hay. + +We have a great expedition preparing, and which will soon be ready to +sail from the Isle of Wight; fifteen thousand good troops, eighty +battering cannons, besides mortars, and every other thing in abundance, +fit for either battle or siege. Lord Anson desired, and is appointed, to +command the fleet employed upon this expedition; a proof that it is not a +trifling one. Conjectures concerning its destination are infinite; and +the most ignorant are, as usual, the boldest conjecturers. If I form any +conjectures, I keep them to myself, not to be disproved by the event; +but, in truth, I form none: I might have known, but would not. + +Everything seems to tend to a peace next winter: our success in America, +which is hardly doubtful, and the King of Prussia’s in Germany, which is +as little so, will make France (already sick of the expense of the war) +very tractable for a peace. I heartily wish it: for though people’s heads +are half turned with the King of Prussia’s success, and will be quite +turned, if we have any in America, or at sea, a moderate peace will suit +us better than this immoderate war of twelve millions a year. + +Domestic affairs go just as they did; the Duke of Newcastle and Mr. Pitt +jog on like man and wife; that is, seldom agreeing, often quarreling; but +by mutual interest, upon the whole, not parting. The latter, I am told, +gains ground in the closet; though he still keeps his strength in the +House, and his popularity in the public; or, perhaps, because of that. + +Do you hold your resolution of visiting your dominions of Bremen and +Lubeck this summer? If you do, pray take the trouble of informing +yourself correctly of the several constitutions and customs of those +places, and of the present state of the federal union of the Hanseatic +towns: it will do you no harm, nor cost you much trouble; and it is so +much clear gain on the side of useful knowledge. + +I am now settled at Blackheath for the summer; where unseasonable frost +and snow, and hot and parching east winds, have destroyed all my fruit, +and almost my fruit-trees. I vegetate myself little better than they do; +I crawl about on foot and on horseback; read a great deal, and write a +little; and am very much yours. + + + + +LETTER CCXXII + +BLACKHEATH, May 30, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have no letter from you to answer, so this goes to you +unprovoked. But ‘a propos’ of letters; you have had great honor done you, +in a letter from a fair and royal hand, no less than that of her Royal +Highness the Princess of Cassel; she has written your panegyric to her +sister, Princess Amelia, who sent me a compliment upon it. This has +likewise done you no harm with the King, who said gracious things upon +that occasion. I suppose you had for her Royal Highness those attentions +which I wish to God you would have, in due proportions, for everybody. +You see, by this instance, the effects of them; they are always repaid +with interest. I am more confirmed by this in thinking, that, if you can +conveniently, you should ask leave to go for a week to Cassel, to return +your thanks for all favors received. + +I cannot expound to myself the conduct of the Russians. There must be a +trick in their not marching with more expedition. They have either had a +sop from the King of Prussia, or they want an animating dram from France +and Austria. The King of Prussia’s conduct always explains itself by the +events; and, within a very few days, we must certainly hear of some very +great stroke from that quarter. I think I never in my life remember a +period of time so big with great events as the present: within two months +the fate of the House of Austria will probably be decided: within the +same space of time, we shall certainly hear of the taking of Cape Breton, +and of our army’s proceeding to Quebec within a few days we shall know +the good or ill success of our great expedition; for it is sailed; and it +cannot be long before we shall hear something of the Prince of +Brunswick’s operations, from whom I also expect good things. If all these +things turn out, as there is good reason to believe they will, we may +once, in our turn, dictate a reasonable peace to France, who now pays +seventy per cent insurance upon its trade, and seven per cent for all the +money raised for the service of the year. + +Comte Bothmar has got the small-pox, and of a bad kind. Kniphausen +diverts himself much here; he sees all places and all people, and is +ubiquity itself. Mitchel, who was much threatened, stays at last at +Berlin, at the earnest request of the King of Prussia. Lady is safely +delivered of a son, to the great joy of that noble family. The +expression, of a woman’s having brought her husband a son, seems to be a +proper and cautious one; for it is never said from whence. + +I was going to ask you how you passed your time now at Hamburg, since it +is no longer the seat of strangers and of business; but I will not, +because I know it is to no purpose. You have sworn not to tell me. + +Sir William Stanhope told me that you promised to send him some Old Hock +from Hamburg, and so you did not. If you meet with any superlatively +good, and not else, pray send over a ‘foudre’ of it, and write to him. I +shall have a share in it. But unless you find some, either at Hamburg or +at Bremen, uncommonly and almost miracuously good, do not send any. Dixi. +Yours. + + + + +LETTER CCXXIII + +BLACKHEATH, June 13, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The secret is out: St. Malo is the devoted place. Our +troops began to land at the Bay of Cancale the 5th, without any +opposition. We have no further accounts yet, but expect some every +moment. By the plan of it, which I have seen, it is by no means a weak +place; and I fear there will be many hats to be disposed of, before it is +taken. There are in the port above thirty privateers; about sixteen of +their own, and about as many taken from us. 237 + +Now for Africa, where we have had great success. The French have been +driven out of all their forts and settlements upon the Gum coast, and +upon the river Senegal. They had been many years in possession of them, +and by them annoyed our African trade exceedingly; which, by the way, +‘toute proportion gardee’, is the most lucrative trade we have. The +present booty is likewise very considerable, in gold dust, and gum +Seneca; which is very valuable, by being a very necessary commodity, for +all our stained and printed linens. + +Now for America. The least sanguine people here expect, the latter end of +this month or the beginning of the next, to have the account of the +taking of Cape Breton, and of all the forts with hard names in North +America. + +Captain Clive has long since settled Asia to our satisfaction; so that +three parts of the world look very favorable for us. Europe, I submit to +the care of the King of Prussia and Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick; and I +think they will give a good account of it. France is out of luck, and out +of courage; and will, I hope, be enough out of spirits to submit to a +reasonable peace. By reasonable, I mean what all people call reasonable +in their own case; an advantageous one for us. + +I have set all right with Munchausen; who would not own that he was at +all offended, and said, as you do, that his daughter did not stay long +enough, nor appear enough at Hamburg, for you possibly to know that she +was there. But people are always ashamed to own the little weaknesses of +self-love, which, however, all people feel more or less. The excuse, I +saw, pleased. + +I will send you your quadrille tables by the first opportunity, consigned +to the care of Mr. Mathias here. ‘Felices faustaeque sint! May you win +upon them, when you play with men; and when you play with women, either +win or know why you lose. + +Miss------marries Mr.-------next week. WHO PROFFERS LOVE, PROFFERS DEATH, +says Weller to a dwarf: in my opinion, the conclusion must instantly +choak the little lady. Admiral marries Lady; there the danger, if danger +is, will be on the other side. The lady has wanted a man so long, that +she now compounds for half a one. Half a loaf-- + +I have been worse since my last letter; but am now, I think, recovering; +‘tant va la cruche a l’eau’;--and I have been there very often. + +Good-night. I am faithfully and truly yours. + + + + +LETTER CCXXIV + +BLACKHEATH, June 27, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: You either have received already, or will very soon +receive, a little case from Amsterdam, directed to you at Hamburg. It is +for Princess Ameba, the King of Prussia’s sister, and contains some books +which she desired Sir Charles Hotham to procure her from England, so long +ago as when he was at Berlin: he sent for them immediately; but, by I do +not know what puzzle, they were recommended to the care of Mr. Selwyn, at +Paris, who took such care of them, that he kept them near three years in +his warehouse, and has at last sent them to Amsterdam, from whence they +are sent to you. If the books are good for anything, they must be +considerably improved, by having seen so much of the world; but, as I +believe they are English books, perhaps they may, like English travelers, +have seen nobody, but the several bankers to whom they were consigned: be +that as it will, I think you had best deliver them to Monsieur Hecht, the +Prussian Minister at Hamburg, to forward to her Royal Highness, with a +respectful compliment from you, which you will, no doubt, turn in the +best manner, and ‘selon le bon ton de la parfaitement bonne compagnie’. + +You have already seen, in the papers, all the particulars of our St. +Malo’s expedition, so I say no more of that; only that Mr. Pitt’s friends +exult in the destruction of three French ships of war, and one hundred +and thirty privateers and trading ships; and affirm that it stopped the +march of threescore thousand men, who were going to join the Comte de +Clermont’s army. On the other hand, Mr. Fox and company call it breaking +windows with guineas; and apply the fable of the Mountain and the Mouse. +The next object of our fleet was to be the bombarding of Granville, which +is the great ‘entrepot’ of their Newfoundland fishery, and will be a +considerable loss to them in that branch of their trade. These, you will +perhaps say, are no great matters, and I say so too; but, at least, they +are signs of life, which we had not given them for many years before; and +will show the French, by our invading them, that we do not fear their +invading us. Were those invasions, in fishing-boats from Dunkirk, so +terrible as they were artfully represented to be, the French would have +had an opportunity of executing them, while our fleet, and such a +considerable part of our army, were employed upon their coast. BUT MY +LORD LIGONIER DOES NOT WANT AN ARMY AT HOME. + +The parliament is prorogued by a most gracious speech neither by nor from +his Majesty, who was TOO ILL to go to the House; the Lords and Gentlemen +are, consequently, most of them, gone to their several counties, to do +(to be sure) all the good that is recommended to them in the speech. +London, I am told, is now very empty, for I cannot say so from knowledge. +I vegetate wholly here. I walk and read a great deal, ride and scribble a +little, according as my lead allows, or my spirits prompt; to write +anything tolerable, the mind must be in a natural, proper disposition; +provocatives, in that case, as well as in another, will only produce +miserable, abortive performances. + +Now that you have (as I suppose) full leisure enough, I wish you would +give yourself the trouble, or rather pleasure, to do what I hinted to you +some time ago; that is, to write short memoirs of those affairs which +have either gone through your hands, or that have come to your certain +knowledge, from the inglorious battle of Hastenbeck, to the still more +scandalous Treaty of Neutrality. Connect, at least, if it be by ever so +short notes, the pieces and letters which you must necessarily have in +your hands, and throw in the authentic anecdotes that you have probably +heard. You will be glad when you have done it: and the reviving past +ideas, in some order and method, will be an infinite comfort to you +hereafter. I have a thousand times regretted not having done so; it is at +present too late for me to begin; this is the right time for you, and +your life is likely to be a busy one. Would young men avail themselves of +the advice and experience of their old friends, they would find the +utility in their youth, and the comfort of it in their more advanced age; +but they seldom consider that, and you, less than anybody I ever knew. +May you soon grow wiser! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCXXV + +BLACKHEATH, June 30, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter follows my last very close; but I received +yours of the 15th in the short interval. You did very well not to buy any +Rhenish, at the exorbitant price you mention, without further directions; +for both my brother and I think the money better than the wine, be the +wine ever so good. We will content our selves with our stock in hand of +humble Rhenish, of about three shillings a-bottle. However, ‘pour la +rarity du fait, I will lay out twelve ducats’, for twelve bottles of the +wine of 1665, by way of an eventual cordial, if you can obtain a ‘senatus +consultum’ for it. I am in no hurry for it, so send it me only when you +can conveniently; well packed up ‘s’entend’. + +You will, I dare say, have leave to go to Cassel; and if you do go, you +will perhaps think it reasonable, that I, who was the adviser of the +journey, should pay the expense of it. I think so too; and therefore, if +you go, I will remit the L100 which you have calculated it at. You will +find the House of Cassel the house of gladness; for Hanau is already, or +must be soon, delivered of its French guests. + +The Prince of Brunswick’s victory is, by all the skillful, thought a +‘chef d’oeuvre’, worthy of Turenne, Conde, or the most illustrious human +butchers. The French behaved better than at Rosbach, especially the +Carabiniers Royaux, who could not be ‘entames’. I wish the siege of +Olmutz well over, and a victory after it; and that, with good news from +America, which I think there is no reason to doubt of, must procure us a +good peace at the end of the year. The Prince of Prussia’s death is no +public misfortune: there was a jealousy and alienation between the King +and him, which could never have been made up between the possessor of the +crown and the next heir to it. He will make something of his nephew, +‘s’il est du bois don’t on en fait’. He is young enough to forgive, and +to be forgiven, the possession and the expectative, at least for some +years. + +Adieu! I am UNWELL, but affectionately yours. + + + + +LETTER CCXXVI + +BLACKHEATH, July 18, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter of the 4th; and my last +will have informed you that I had received your former, concerning the +Rhenish, about which I gave you instructions. If ‘vinum Mosellanum est +omni tempore sanum’, as the Chapter of Treves asserts, what must this +‘vinum Rhenanum’ be, from its superior strength and age? It must be the +universal panacea. + +Captain Howe is to sail forthwith somewhere or another, with about 8,000 +land forces on board him; and what is much more, Edward the White Prince. +It is yet a secret where they are going; but I think it is no secret, +that what 16,000 men and a great fleet could not do, will not be done by +8,000 men and a much smaller fleet. About 8,500 horse, foot, and +dragoons, are embarking, as fast as they can, for Embden, to reinforce +Prince Ferdinand’s army; late and few, to be sure, but still better than +never, and none. The operations in Moravia go on slowly, and Olmutz seems +to be a tough piece of work; I own I begin to be in pain for the King of +Prussia; for the Russians now march in earnest, and Marechal Dann’s army +is certainly superior in number to his. God send him a good delivery! + +You have a Danish army now in your neighborhood, and they say a very fine +one; I presume you will go to see it, and, if you do, I would advise you +to go when the Danish Monarch comes to review it himself; ‘pour prendre +langue de ce Seigneur’. The rulers of the earth are all worth knowing; +they suggest moral reflections: and the respect that one naturally has +for God’s vicegerents here on earth, is greatly increased by acquaintance +with them. + +Your card-tables are gone, and they inclose some suits of clothes, and +some of these clothes inclose a letter. + +Your friend Lady------is gone into the country with her Lord, to +negotiate, coolly and at leisure, their intended separation. My Lady +insists upon my Lord’s dismissing the------, as ruinous to his fortune; +my Lord insists, in his turn, upon my Lady’s dismissing Lord----------; +my Lady replies, that that is unreasonable, since Lord creates no expense +to the family, but rather the contrary. My Lord confesses that there is +some weight in this argument: but then pleads sentiment: my Lady says, a +fiddlestick for sentiment, after having been married so long. How this +matter will end, is in the womb of time, ‘nam fuit ante Helenam’. + +You did very well to write a congratulatory letter to Prince Ferdinand; +such attentions are always right, and always repaid in some way or other. + +I am glad you have connected your negotiations and anecdotes; and, I +hope, not with your usual laconism. Adieu! Yours. + + + + +LETTER CCXXVII + +BLACKHEATH, August 1, 1758 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I think the Court of Cassel is more likely to make you a +second visit at Hamburg, than you are to return theirs at Cassel; and +therefore, till that matter is clearer, I shall not mention it to Lord +Holderness. + +By the King of Prussia’s disappointment in Moravia, by the approach of +the Russians, and the intended march of Monsieur de Soubize to Hanover, +the waters seem to me to be as much troubled as ever. ‘Je vois tres noir +actuellement’; I see swarms of Austrians, French, Imperialists, Swedes, +and Russians, in all near four hundred thousand men, surrounding the King +of Prussia and Prince Ferdinand, who have about a third of that number. +Hitherto they have only buzzed, but now I fear they will sting. + +The immediate danger of this country is being drowned; for it has not +ceased raining these three months, and withal is extremely cold. This +neither agrees with me in itself, nor in its consequences; for it hinders +me from taking my necessary exercise, and makes me very unwell. As my +head is always the part offending, and is so at present, I will not do, +like many writers, write without a head; so adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCXXVIII + +BLACKHEATH, August 29, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Your secretary’s last letter brought me the good news +that the fever had left you, and I will believe that it has: but a +postscript to it, of only two lines, under your own hand, would have +convinced me more effectually of your recovery. An intermitting fever, in +the intervals of the paroxysms, would surely have allowed you to have +written a few lines with your own hand, to tell me how you were; and till +I receive a letter (as short as you please) from you yourself, I shall +doubt of the exact truth of any other accounts. + +I send you no news, because I have none; Cape Breton, Cherbourg, etc., +are now old stories; we expect a new one soon from Commodore Howe, but +from whence we know not. From Germany we hope for good news: I confess I +do not, I only wish it. The King of Prussia is marched to fight the +Russians, and I believe will beat them, if they stand; but what then? +What shall he do next, with the three hundred and fourscore thousand men +now actually at work upon him? He will do all that man can do, but at +last ‘il faut succomber’. + +Remember to think yourself less well than you are, in order to be quite +so; be very regular, rather longer than you need; and then there will be +no danger of a relapse. God bless you. + + + + +LETTER CCXXIX + +BLACKHEATH, September 5, 1758 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, with great pleasure, your letter of the 22d +August; for, by not having a line from you in your secretary’s two +letters, I suspect that you were worse than he cared to tell me; and so +far I was in the right, that your fever was more malignant than +intermitting ones generally are, which seldom confines people to their +bed, or at most, only the days of the paroxysms. Now that, thank God, you +are well again, though weak, do not be in too much haste to be better and +stronger: leave that to nature, which, at your age, will restore both +your health and strength as soon as she should. Live cool for a time, and +rather low, instead of taking what they call heartening things: Your +manner of making presents is noble, ‘et sent la grandeur d’ame d’un preux +Chevalier’. You depreciate their value to prevent any returns; for it is +impossible that a wine which has counted so many Syndicks, that can only +be delivered by a ‘senatus consultum’, and is the PANACEA Of the North, +should be sold for a ducat a bottle. The ‘sylphium’ of the Romans, which +was stored up in the public magazines, and only distributed by order of +the magistrate, I dare say, cost more; so that I am convinced, your +present is much more valuable than you would make it. + +Here I am interrupted, by receiving your letter of the 25th past. I am +glad that you are able to undertake your journey to Bremen: the motion, +the air, the new scene, the everything, will do you good, provided you +manage yourself discreetly. + +Your bill for fifty pounds shall certainly be accepted and paid; but, as +in conscience I think fifty pounds is too little, for seeing a live +Landgrave, and especially at Bremen, which this whole nation knows to be +a very dear place, I shall, with your leave, add fifty more to it. By the +way, when you see the Princess Royal of Cassel, be sure to tell her how +sensible you are of the favorable and too partial testimony, which you +know she wrote of you to Princess Amelia. + +The King of Prussia has had the victory, which you in some measure +foretold; and as he has taken ‘la caisse militaire’, I presume ‘Messieurs +les Russes sont hors de combat pour cette campagne’; for ‘point d’argent, +point de Suisse’, is not truer of the laudable Helvetic body, than ‘point +d’argent, point de Russe’, is of the savages of the Two Russias, not even +excepting the Autocratrice of them both. Serbelloni, I believe, stands +next in his Prussian Majesty’s list to be beaten; that is, if he will +stand; as the Prince de Soubize does in Prince Ferdinand’s, upon the same +condition. If both these things happen, which is by no means improbable, +we may hope for a tolerable peace this winter; for, ‘au bout du compte’, +the King of Prussia cannot hold out another year; and therefore he should +make the best of these favorable events, by way negotiation. + +I think I have written a great deal, with an actual giddiness of head +upon me. So adieu. + +I am glad you have received my letter of the Ides of July. + + + + +LETTER CCXXX + +BLACKHEATH, September 8, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter shall be short, being only an explanatory +note upon my last; for I am not learned enough, nor yet dull enough, to +make my comment much longer than my text. I told you then, in my former +letter, that, with your leave (which I will suppose granted), I would add +fifty pounds to your draught for that sum; now, lest you should +misunderstand this, and wait for the remittance of that additional fifty +from hence, know then my meaning was, that you should likewise draw upon +me for it when you please; which I presume, will be more convenient to +you. + +Let the pedants, whose business it is to believe lies, or the poets, +whose trade it is to invent them, match the King of Prussia With a hero +in ancient or modern story, if they can. He disgraces history, and makes +one give some credit to romances. Calprenede’s Juba does not now seem so +absurd as formerly. + +I have been extremely ill this whole summer; but am now something better. +However, I perceive, ‘que l’esprit et le corps baissent’; the former is +the last thing that anybody will tell me; or own when I tell it them; but +I know it is true. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCXXXI + +BLACKHEATH, September 22, 1758 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received no letter from you since you left +Hamburg; I presume that you are perfectly recovered, but it might not +have been improper to have told me so. I am very far from being +recovered; on the contrary, I am worse and worse, weaker and weaker every +day; for which reason I shall leave this place next Monday, and set out +for Bath a few days afterward. I should not take all this trouble merely +to prolong the fag end of a life, from which I can expect no pleasure, +and others no utility; but the cure, or at least the mitigation, of those +physical ills which make that life a load while it does last, is worth +any trouble and attention. + +We are come off but scurvily from our second attempt upon St. Malo; it is +our last for this season; and, in my mind, should be our last forever, +unless we were to send so great a sea and land force as to give us a +moral certainty of taking some place of great importance, such as Brest, +Rochefort, or Toulon. + +Monsieur Munchausen embarked yesterday, as he said, for Prince +Ferdinand’s army; but as it is not generally thought that his military +skill can be of any great use to that prince, people conjecture that his +business must be of a very different nature, and suspect separate +negotiations, neutralities, and what not. Kniphausen does not relish it +in the least, and is by no means satisfied with the reasons that have +been given him for it. Before he can arrive there, I reckon that +something decisive will have passed in Saxony; if to the disadvantage of +the King of Prussia, he is crushed; but if, on the contrary, he should +get a complete victory (and he does not get half victories) over the +Austrians, the winter may probably produce him and us a reasonable peace. +I look upon Russia as ‘hors de combat’ for some time; France is certainly +sick of the war; under an unambitious King, and an incapable Ministry, if +there is one at all: and, unassisted by those two powers, the Empress +Queen had better be quiet. Were any other man in the situation of the +King of Prussia, I should not hesitate to pronounce him ruined; but he is +such a prodigy of a man, that I will only say, I fear he will be ruined. +It is by this time decided. + +Your Cassel court at Bremen is, I doubt, not very splendid; money must be +wanting: but, however, I dare say their table is always good, for the +Landgrave is a gourmand; and as you are domestic there, you may be so +too, and recruit your loss of flesh from your fever: but do not recruit +too fast. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCXXXII + +LONDON, September 26, 1758 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I am sorry to find that you had a return of your fever; +but to say the truth, you in some measure deserved it, for not carrying +Dr. Middleton’s bark and prescription with you. I foresaw that you would +think yourself cured too soon, and gave you warning of it; but BYGONES +are BYGONES, as Chartres, when he was dying, said of his sins; let us +look forward. You did very prudently to return to Hamburg, to good bark, +and, I hope, a good physician. Make all sure there before you stir from +thence, notwithstanding the requests or commands of all the princesses in +Europe: I mean a month at least, taking the bark even to supererogation, +that is, some time longer than Dr. Middleton requires; for, I presume, +you are got over your childishness about tastes, and are sensible that +your health deserves more attention than your palate. When you shall be +thus re-established, I approve of your returning to Bremen; and indeed +you cannot well avoid it, both with regard to your promise, and to the +distinction with which you have been received by the Cassel family. + +Now to the other part of your letter. Lord Holdernesse has been extremely +civil to you, in sending you, all under his own hand, such obliging +offers of his service. The hint is plain, that he will (in case you +desire it) procure you leave to come home for some time; so that the +single question is, whether you should desire it or not, NOW. It will be +two months before you can possibly undertake the journey, whether by sea +or by land, and either way it would be a troublesome and dangerous one +for a convalescent in the rigor of the month of November; you could drink +no mineral waters here in that season, nor are any mineral waters proper +in your case, being all of them heating, except Seltzer’s; then, what +would do you more harm than all medicines could do you good, would be the +pestilential vapors of the House of Commons, in long and crowded days, of +which there will probably be many this session; where your attendance, if +here, will necessarily be required. I compare St. Stephen’s Chapel, upon +those days, to ‘la Grotta del Cane’. + +Whatever may be the fate of the war now, negotiations will certainly be +stirring all the winter, and of those, the northern ones, you are +sensible, are not the least important; in these, if at Hamburg, you will +probably have your share, and perhaps a meritorious one. Upon the whole, +therefore, I would advise you to write a very civil letter to Lord +Holdernesse; and to tell him that though you cannot hope to be of any use +to his Majesty’s affairs anywhere, yet, in the present unsettled state of +the North, it is possible that unforeseen accidents may throw in your way +to be of some little service, and that you would not willingly be out of +the way of those accidents; but that you shall be most extremely obliged +to his Lordship, if he will procure you his Majesty’s gracious permission +to return for a few months in the spring, when probably affairs will be +more settled one way or another. When things tend nearer to a settlement, +and that Germany, from the want of money or men, or both, breathes peace +more than war, I shall solicit Burrish’s commission for you, which is one +of the most agreeable ones in his Majesty’s gift; and I shall by no means +despair of success. Now I have given you my opinion upon this affair, +which does not make a difference of above three months, or four at most, +I would not be understood to mean to force your own, if it should happen +to be different from mine; but mine, I think, is more both for your +health and your interest. However, do as you please: may you in this, and +everything else, do for the best! So God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCXXXIII + +BATH, October 18, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received by the same post your two letters of the 29th +past, and of the 3d instant. + +The last tells me that you are perfectly recovered; and your resolution +of going to Bremen in three or four days proves it; for surely you would +not undertake that journey a second time, and at this season of the year, +without feeling your health solidly restored; however, in all events, I +hope you have taken a provision of good bark with you. I think your +attention to her Royal Highness may be of use to you here; and indeed all +attentions, to all sorts, of people, are always repaid in some way or +other; though real obligations are not. For instance, Lord Titchfield, +who has been with you at Hamburg, has written an account to the Duke and +Duchess of Portland, who are here, of the civilities you showed him, with +which he is much pleased, and they delighted. At this rate, if you do not +take care, you will get the unmanly reputation of a well-bred man; and +your countryman, John Trott, will disown you. + +I have received, and tasted of your present; which is a ‘tres grand vin’, +but more cordial to the stomach than pleasant to the palate. I keep it as +a physic, only to take occasionally, in little disorders of my stomach; +and in those cases, I believe it is wholsomer than stronger cordials. + +I have been now here a fortnight; and though I am rather better than when +I came, I am still far from well. + +My head is giddier than becomes a head of my age; and my stomach has not +recovered its retentive faculty. Leaning forward, particularly to write, +does not at present agree with, Yours. + + + + +LETTER CCXXXIV + +BATH, October 28, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Your letter has quieted my alarms; for I find by it, that +you are as well recovered as you could be in so short a time. It is your +business now to keep yourself well by scrupulously following Dr. +Middleton’s directions. He seems to be a rational and knowing man. Soap +and steel are, unquestionably, the proper medicines for your case; but as +they are alteratives, you must take them for a very long time, six months +at least; and then drink chalybeate waters. I am fully persuaded, that +this was your original complaint in Carniola, which those ignorant +physicians called, in their jargon, ‘Arthritis vaga’, and treated as +such. But now that the true cause of your illness is discovered, I +flatter myself that, with time and patience on your part, you will be +radically cured; but, I repeat it again, it must be by a long and +uninterrupted course of those alterative medicines above mentioned. They +have no taste; but if they had a bad one, I will not now suppose you such +a child, as to let the frowardness of your palate interfere in the least +with the recovery or enjoyment of health. The latter deserves the utmost +attention of the most rational man; the former is the only proper object +of the care of a dainty, frivolous woman. + +The run of luck, which some time ago we were in, seems now to be turned +against us. Oberg is completely routed; his Prussian Majesty was +surprised (which I am surprised at), and had rather the worst of it. I am +in some pain for Prince Ferdinand, as I take it for granted that the +detachment from Marechal de Contade’s army, which enabled Prince Soubize +to beat Oberg, will immediately return to the grand army, and then it +will be infinitely superior. + +Nor do I see where Prince Ferdinand can take his winter quarters, unless +he retires to Hanover; and that I do not take to be at present the land +of Canaan. Our second expedition to St. Malo I cannot call so much an +unlucky, as an ill-conducted one; as was also Abercrombie’s affair in +America. ‘Mais il n’y a pas de petite perte qui revient souvent’: and all +these accidents put together make a considerable sum total. + +I have found so little good by these waters, that I do not intend to stay +here above a week longer; and then remove my crazy body to London, which +is the most convenient place either to live or die in. + +I cannot expect active health anywhere; you may, with common care and +prudence, effect it everywhere; and God grant that you may have it! +Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCXXXV + +LONDON, November 21, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: You did well to think of Prince Ferdinand’s ribband, +which I confess I did not; and I am glad to find you thinking so far +beforehand. It would be a pretty commission, and I will ‘accingere me’ to +procure it to you. The only competition I fear, is that of General Yorke, +in case Prince Ferdinand should pass any time with his brother at The +Hague, which is not unlikely, since he cannot go to Brunswick to his +eldest brother, upon account of their simulated quarrel. + +I fear the piece is at an end with the King of Prussia, and he may say +‘ilicet’; I am sure he may personally say ‘plaudite’. Warm work is +expected this session of parliament, about continent and no continent; +some think Mr. Pitt too continent, others too little so; but a little +time, as the newspapers most prudently and truly observe, will clear up +these matters. + +The King has been ill; but his illness is terminated in a good fit of the +gout, with which he is still confined. It was generally thought that he +would have died, and for a very good reason; for the oldest lion in the +Tower, much about the King’s age, died a fortnight ago. This +extravagancy, I can assure you, was believed by many above peuple. So +wild and capricious is the human mind! + +Take care of your health as much as you can; for, To BE, or NOT To BE, is +a question of much less importance, in my mind, than to be or not to be +well. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCXXXVI + +LONDON, December 15, 1758. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: It is a great while since I heard from you, but I hope +that good, not ill health, has been the occasion of this silence: I will +suppose you have been, or are still at Bremen, and engrossed by your +Hessian friends. + +Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick is most certainly to have the Garter, and I +think I have secured you the honor of putting it on. When I say SECURED, +I mean it in the sense in which that word should always be understood at +courts, and that is, INSECURELY; I have a promise, but that is not +‘caution bourgeoise’. In all events, do not mention it to any mortal, +because there is always a degree of ridicule that attends a +disappointment, though often very unjustly, if the expectation was +reasonably grounded; however, it is certainly most prudent not to +communicate, prematurely, one’s hopes or one’s fears. I cannot tell you +when Prince Ferdinand will have it; though there are so many candidates +for the other two vacant Garters, that I believe he will have his soon, +and by himself; the others must wait till a third, or rather a fourth +vacancy. Lord Rockingham and Lord Holdernesse are secure. Lord Temple +pushes strongly, but, I believe, is not secure. This commission for +dubbing a knight, and so distinguished a one, will be a very agreeable +and creditable one for you, ‘et il faut vous en acquitter galamment’. In +the days of ancient chivalry, people were very nice who they would be +knighted by and, if I do not mistake, Francis the First would only be +knighted by the Chevalier Bayard, ‘qui etoit preux Chevalier et sans +reproche’; and no doubt but it will be recorded, ‘dans les archives de la +Maison de Brunswick’, that Prince Ferdinand received the honor of +knighthood from your hands. + +The estimates for the expenses of the year 1759 are made up; I have seen +them; and what do you think they amount to? No less than twelve millions +three hundred thousand pounds: a most incredible sum, and yet already +subscribed, and even more offered! The unanimity in the House of Commons, +in voting such a sum, and such forces, both by sea and land, is not the +less astonishing. This is Mr. Pitt’s doing, AND IT IS MARVELOUS IN OUR +EYES. + +The King of Prussia has nothing more to do this year; and, the next, he +must begin where he has left off. I wish he would employ this winter in +concluding a separate peace with the Elector of Saxony; which would give +him more elbowroom to act against France and the Queen of Hungary, and +put an end at once to the proceedings of the Diet, and the army of the +empire; for then no estate of the empire would be invaded by a co-estate, +and France, the faithful and disinterested guarantee of the Treaty of +Westphalia, would have no pretense to continue its armies there. I should +think that his Polish Majesty, and his Governor, Comte Bruhl, must be +pretty weary of being fugitives in Poland, where they are hated, and of +being ravaged in Saxony. This reverie of mine, I hope will be tried, and +I wish it may succeed. Good-night, and God bless you! + + + + + LETTERS TO HIS SON + 1759-65 + + By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + + on the Fine Art of becoming a + + MAN OF THE WORLD + + and a + + GENTLEMAN + + + +LETTER CCXXXVII + +LONDON, New-year’s Day, 1759 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: ‘Molti e felici’, and I have done upon that subject, one +truth being fair, upon the most lying day in the whole year. + +I have now before me your last letter of the 21st December, which I am +glad to find is a bill of health: but, however, do not presume too much +upon it, but obey and honor your physician, “that thy days may be long in +the land.” + +Since my last, I have heard nothing more concerning the ribband; but I +take it for granted it will be disposed of soon. By the way, upon +reflection, I am not sure that anybody but a knight can, according to +form, be employed to make a knight. I remember that Sir Clement Cotterel +was sent to Holland, to dub the late Prince of Orange, only because he +was a knight himself; and I know that the proxies of knights, who cannot +attend their own installations, must always be knights. This did not +occur to me before, and perhaps will not to the person who was to +recommend you: I am sure I will not stir it; and I only mention it now, +that you may be in all events prepared for the disappointment, if it +should happen. + +G-----is exceedingly flattered with your account, that three thousand of +his countrymen; all as little as himself, should be thought a sufficient +guard upon three-and-twenty thousand of all the nations in Europe; not +that he thinks himself, by any means, a little man, for when he would +describe a tall handsome man, he raises himself up at least half an inch +to represent him. + +The private news from Hamburg is, that his Majesty’s Resident there is +woundily in love with Madame-------; if this be true, God send him, +rather than her, a good DELIVERY! She must be ‘etrennee’ at this season, +and therefore I think you should be so too: so draw upon me as soon as +you please, for one hundred pounds. + +Here is nothing new, except the unanimity with which the parliament gives +away a dozen of millions sterling; and the unanimity of the public is as +great in approving of it, which has stifled the usual political and +polemical argumentations. + +Cardinal Bernis’s disgrace is as sudden, and hitherto as little +understood, as his elevation was. I have seen his poems, printed at +Paris, not by a friend, I dare say; and to judge by them, I humbly +conceive his Eminency is a p-----y. I will say nothing of that excellent +headpiece that made him and unmade him in the same month, except O KING, +LIVE FOREVER. + +Good-night to you, whoever you pass it with. + + + + +LETTER CCXXXVIII + +LONDON, February 2, 1759 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I am now (what I have very seldom been) two letters in +your debt: the reason was, that my head, like many other heads, has +frequently taken a wrong turn; in which case, writing is painful to me, +and therefore cannot be very pleasant to my readers. + +I wish you would (while you have so good an opportunity as you have at +Hamburg) make yourself perfectly master of that dull but very useful +knowledge, the course of exchange, and the causes of its almost perpetual +variations; the value and relation of different coins, the specie, the +banco, usances, agio, and a thousand other particulars. You may with ease +learn, and you will be very glad when you have learned them; for, in your +business, that sort of knowledge will often prove necessary. + +I hear nothing more of Prince Ferdinand’s garter: that he will have one +is very certain; but when, I believe, is very uncertain; all the other +postulants wanting to be dubbed at the same time, which cannot be, as +there is not ribband enough for them. + +If the Russians move in time, and in earnest, there will be an end of our +hopes and of our armies in Germany: three such mill-stones as Russia, +France, and Austria, must, sooner or later, in the course of the year, +grind his Prussian Majesty down to a mere MARGRAVE of Brandenburg. But I +have always some hopes of a change under a ‘Gunarchy’--[Derived from the +Greek word ‘Iuvn’ a woman, and means female government]--where whim and +humor commonly prevail, reason very seldom, and then only by a lucky +mistake. + +I expect the incomparable fair one of Hamburg, that prodigy of beauty, +and paragon of good sense, who has enslaved your mind, and inflamed your +heart. If she is as well ‘etrennee’ as you say she shall, you will be +soon out of her chains; for I have, by long experience, found women to be +like Telephus’s spear, if one end kills, the other cures. + +There never was so quiet, nor so silent a session of parliament as the +present; Mr. Pitt declares only what he would have them do, and they do +it ‘nemine contradicente’, Mr. Viner only expected. + +Duchess Hamilton is to be married, to-morrow, to Colonel Campbell, the +son of General Campbell, who will some day or other be Duke of Argyle, +and have the estate. She refused the Duke of B-----r for him. + +Here is a report, but I believe a very groundless one, that your old +acquaintance, the fair Madame C------e, is run away from her husband, +with a jeweler, that ‘etrennes’ her, and is come over here; but I dare +say it is some mistake, or perhaps a lie. Adieu! God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCXXXIX + +LONDON, February 27, 1759 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: In your last letter, of the 7th, you accuse me, most +unjustly, of being in arrears in my correspondence; whereas, if our +epistolary accounts were fairly liquidated, I believe you would be +brought in considerably debtor. I do not see how any of my letters to you +can miscarry, unless your office-packet miscarries too, for I always send +them to the office. Moreover, I might have a justifiable excuse for +writing to you seldomer than usual, for to be sure there never was a +period of time, in the middle of a winter, and the parliament sitting, +that supplied so little matter for a letter. Near twelve millions have +been granted this year, not only ‘nemine contradicente’, but, ‘nemine +quicquid dicente’. The proper officers bring in the estimates; it is +taken for granted that they are necessary and frugal; the members go to +dinner; and leave Mr. West and Mr. Martin to do the rest. + +I presume you have seen the little poem of the “Country Lass,” by Soame +Jenyns, for it was in the “Chronicle”; as was also an answer to it, from +the “Monitor.” They are neither of them bad performances; the first is +the neatest, and the plan of the second has the most invention. I send +you none of those ‘pieces volantes’ in my letters, because they are all +printed in one or other of the newspapers, particularly in the +“Chronicles”; and I suppose that you and others have all those papers +among you at Hamburg; in which case it would be only putting you to the +unnecessary expense of double postage. + +I find you are sanguine about the King of Prussia this year; I allow his +army will be what you say; but what will that be ‘vis-a-vis’ French, +Austrians, Imperialists, Swedes, and Russians, who must amount to more +than double that number? Were the inequality less, I would allow for the +King of Prussia’s being so much ‘ipse agmen’ as pretty nearly to balance +the account. In war, numbers are generally my omens; and, I confess, that +in Germany they seem not happy ones this year. In America. I think, we +are sure of success, and great success; but how we shall be able to +strike a balance, as they call it, between good success there, and ill +success upon the continent, so as to come at a peace; is more than I can +discover. + +Lady Chesterfield makes you her compliments, and thanks you for your +offer; but declines troubling you, being discouraged by the ill success +of Madame Munchausen’s and Miss Chetwynd’s commissions, the former for +beef, and the latter for gloves; neither of which have yet been executed, +to the dissatisfaction of both. Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCXL + +LONDON, March 16, 1759 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now your letter of the 20th past lying before me, +by which you despond, in my opinion too soon, of dubbing your Prince; for +he most certainly will have the Garter; and he will as probably have it +before the campaign opens, as after. His campaign must, I doubt, at best +be a defensive one; and he will show great skill in making it such; for +according to my calculation, his enemies will be at least double his +number. Their troops, indeed, may perhaps be worse than his; but then +their number will make up that defect, as it will enable them to +undertake different operations at the same time. I cannot think that the +King of Denmark will take a part in the present war; which he cannot do +without great possible danger; and he is well paid by France for his +neutrality; is safe, let what will turn out; and, in the meantime, +carries on his commerce with great advantage and security; so that that +consideration will not retard your visit to your own country, whenever +you have leave to return, and that your own ARRANGEMENTS will allow you. +A short absence animates a tender passion, ‘et l’on ne recule que pour +mieux sauter’, especially in the summer months; so that I would advise +you to begin your journey in May, and continue your absence from the dear +object of your vows till after the dog-days, when love is said to be +unwholesome. We have been disappointed at Martinico; I wish we may not be +so at Guadaloupe, though we are landed there; for many difficulties must +be got over before we can be in possession of the whole island. A pro pos +de bottes; you make use of two Spanish words, very properly, in your +letter; were I you, I would learn the Spanish language, if there were a +Spaniard at Hamburg who could teach me; and then you would be master of +all the European languages that are useful; and, in my mind, it is very +convenient, if not necessary, for a public man to understand them all, +and not to be obliged to have recourse to an interpreter for those papers +that chance or business may throw in his way. I learned Spanish when I +was older than you; convinced by experience that, in everything possible, +it was better to trust to one’s self than to any other body whatsoever. +Interpreters, as well as relaters, are often unfaithful, and still +oftener incorrect, puzzling, and blundering. In short, let it be your +maxim through life to know all you can know, yourself; and never to trust +implicitly to the informations of others. This rule has been of infinite +service to me in the course of my life. + +I am rather better than I was; which I owe not to my physicians, but to +an ass and a cow, who nourish me, between them, very plentifully and +wholesomely; in the morning the ass is my nurse, at night the cow; and I +have just now, bought a milch-goat, which is to graze, and nurse me at +Blackheath. I do not know what may come of this latter, and I am not +without apprehensions that it may make a satyr of me; but, should I find +that obscene disposition growing upon me, I will check it in time, for +fear of endangering my life and character by rapes. And so we heartily +bid you farewell. + + + + +LETTER CCXLI + +LONDON, March 30, 1759 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I do not like these frequent, however short, returns of +your illness; for I doubt they imply either want of skill in your +physician, or want of care in his patient. Rhubarb, soap, and chalybeate +medicines and waters, are almost always specifics for obstructions of the +liver; but then a very exact regimen is necessary, and that for a long +continuance. Acids are good for you, but you do not love them; and sweet +things are bad for you, and you do love them. There is another thing very +bad for you, and I fear you love it too much. When I was in Holland, I +had a slow fever that hung upon me a great while; I consulted Boerhaave, +who prescribed me what I suppose was proper, for it cured me; but he +added, by way of postscript to his prescription, ‘Venus rarius colatur’; +which I observed, and perhaps that made the medicines more effectual. + +I doubt we shall be mutually disappointed in our hopes of seeing one +another this spring, as I believe you will find, by a letter which you +will receive at the same time with this, from Lord Holderness; but as +Lord Holderness will not tell you all, I will, between you and me, supply +that defect. I must do him the justice to say that he has acted in the +most kind and friendly manner possible to us both. When the King read +your letter, in which you desired leave to return, for the sake of +drinking the Tunbridge waters, he said, “If he wants steel waters, those +of Pyrmont are better than Tunbridge, and he can have them very fresh at +Hamburg. I would rather he had asked me to come last autumn, and had +passed the winter here; for if he returns now, I shall have nobody in +those quarters to inform me of what passes; and yet it will be a very +busy and important scene.” Lord Holderness, who found that it would not +be liked, resolved to push it no further; and replied, he was very sure +that when you knew his Majesty had the least objection to your return at +this time, you would think of it no longer; and he owned that he (Lord +Holderness) had given you encouragement for this application last year, +then thinking and hoping that there would be little occasion for your +presence at Hamburg this year. Lord Holderness will only tell you, in his +letter, that, as he had some reason to believe his moving this matter +would be disagreeable to the King, he resolved, for your sake, not to +mention it. You must answer his letter upon that footing simply, and +thank him for this mark of his friendship, for he has really acted as +your friend. I make no doubt of your having willing leave to return in +autumn, for the whole winter. In the meantime, make the best of your +‘sejour’ where you are; drink the Pyrmont waters, and no wine but +Rhenish, which, in your case is the only proper one for you. + +Next week Mr. Harte will send you his “Gustavus Adolphus,” in two +quartos; it will contain many new particulars of the life of that real +hero, as he has had abundant and authentic materials, which have never +yet appeared. It will, upon the whole, be a very curious and valuable +history; though, between you and me, I could have wished that he had been +more correct and elegant in his style. You will find it dedicated to one +of your acquaintance, who was forced to prune the luxuriant praises +bestowed upon him, and yet has left enough of all conscience to satisfy a +reasonable man. Harte has been very much out of order these last three or +four months, but is not the less intent upon sowing his lucerne, of which +he had six crops last year, to his infinite joy, and, as he says, profit. +As a gardener, I shall probably have as much joy, though not quite so +much profit, by thirty or forty shillings; for there is the greatest +promise of fruit this year at ‘Blackheath, that ever I saw in my life. +Vertumnus and Pomona have been very propitious to me: as for Priapus, +that tremendous garden god, as I no longer invoke him, I cannot expect +his protection from the birds and the thieves. + +Adieu! I will conclude like a pedant, ‘Levius fit patientia quicquid +corrigere est nefas.’ + + + + +LETTER CCXLII + +LONDON, April 16, 1759 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: With humble submission to you, I still say that if Prince +Ferdinand can make a defensive campaign this year, he will have done a +great deal, considering the great inequality of numbers. The little +advantages of taking a regiment or two prisoners, or cutting another to +pieces, are but trifling articles in the great account; they are only the +pence, the pounds are yet to come; and I take it for granted, that +neither the French, nor the Court of Vienna, will have ‘le dementi’ of +their main object, which is unquestionably Hanover; for that is the +‘summa summarum’; and they will certainly take care to draw a force +together for this purpose, too great for any that Prince Ferdinand has, +or can have, to oppose them. In short, mark the end on’t, ‘j’en augure +mal’. If France, Austria, the Empire, Russia, and Sweden, are not, at +long run, too hard for the two Electors of Hanover and Brandenburg, there +must be some invisible power, some tutelar deities, that miraculously +interpose in favor of the latter. + +You encourage me to accept all the powers that goats, asses, and bulls, +can give me, by engaging for my not making an ill use of them; but I own, +I cannot help distrusting myself a little, or rather human nature; for it +is an old and very true observation, that there are misers of money, but +none of power; and the non-use of the one, and the abuse of the other, +increase in proportion to their quantity. + +I am very sorry to tell you that Harte’s “Gustavus Adolphus” does not +take at all, and consequently sells very little: it is certainly +informing, and full of good matter; but it is as certain too, that the +style is execrable: where the devil he picked it up, I cannot conceive, +for it is a bad style, of a new and singular kind; it is full of +Latinisms, Gallicisms, Germanisms, and all isms but Anglicisms; in some +places pompous, in others vulgar and low. Surely, before the end of the +world, people, and you in particular, will discover that the MANNER, in +everything, is at least as important as the matter; and that the latter +never can please, without a good degree of elegance in the former. This +holds true in everything in life: in writing, conversing, business, the +help of the Graces is absolutely necessary; and whoever vainly thinks +himself above them, will find he is mistaken when it will be too late to +court them, for they will not come to strangers of an advanced age. There +is an history lately come out, of the “Reign of Mary Queen of Scots” and +her son (no matter by whom) King James, written by one Robertson, a +Scotchman, which for clearness, purity, and dignity of style, I will not +scruple to compare with the best historians extant, not excepting Davila, +Guicciardini, and perhaps Livy. Its success has consequently been great, +and a second edition is already published and bought up. I take it for +granted, that it is to be had, or at least borrowed, at Hamburg, or I +would send it to you. + +I hope you drink the Pyrmont waters every morning. The health of the mind +depends so much upon the health of the body, that the latter deserves the +utmost attention, independently of the senses. God send you a very great +share of both! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCXLIII + +LONDON, April 27, 1759 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received your two letters of the 10th and 13th, by +the last mail; and I will begin my answer to them, by observing to you +that a wise man, without being a Stoic, considers, in all misfortunes +that befall him, their best as well as their worst side; and everything +has a better and a worse side. I have strictly observed that rule for +many years, and have found by experience that some comfort is to be +extracted, under most moral ills, by considering them in every light, +instead of dwelling, as people are too apt to do, upon the gloomy side of +the object. Thank God, the disappointment that you so pathetically groan +under, is not a calamity which admits of no consolation. Let us simplify +it, and see what it amounts to. You are pleased with the expectation of +coming here next month, to see those who would have been pleased with +seeing you. That, from very natural causes, cannot be, and you must pass +this summer at Hamburg, and next winter in England, instead of passing +this summer in England, and next winter at Hamburg. Now, estimating +things fairly, is not the change rather to your advantage? Is not the +summer more eligible, both for health and pleasure, than the winter, in +that northern frozen zone? And will not the winter in England supply you +with more pleasures than the summer, in an empty capital, could have +done? So far then it appears, that you are rather a gainer by your +misfortune. + +The TOUR too, which you propose making to Lubeck, Altena, etc., will both +amuse and inform you; for, at your age, one cannot see too many different +places and people; since at the age you are now of, I take it for granted +that you will not see them superficially, as you did when you first went +abroad. + +This whole matter then, summed up, amounts to no more than this--that you +will be here next winter, instead of this summer. Do not think that all I +have said is the consolation only of an old philosophical fellow, almost +insensible of pleasure or pain, offered to a young fellow who has quick +sensations of both. No, it is the rational philosophy taught me by +experience and knowledge of the world, and which I have practiced above +thirty years. + +I always made the best of the best, and never made bad worse by fretting; +this enabled me to go through the various scenes of life in which I have +been an actor, with more pleasure and less pain than most people. You +will say, perhaps, one cannot change one’s nature; and that if a person +is born of a very sensible, gloomy temper, and apt to see things in the +worst light, they cannot help it, nor new-make themselves. I will admit +it, to a certain degree; and but to a certain degree; for though we +cannot totally change our nature, we may in a great measure correct it, +by reflection and philosophy; and some philosophy is a very necessary +companion in this world, where, even to the most fortunate, the chances +are greatly against happiness. + +I am not old enough, nor tenacious enough, to pretend not to understand +the main purport of your last letter; and to show you that I do, you may +draw upon me for two hundred pounds, which, I hope, will more than clear +you. + +Good-night: ‘aquam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem’: Be neither +transported nor depressed by the accidents of life. + + + + +LETTER CCXLIV + +BLACKHEATH, May 16, 1759 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Your secretary’s last letter of the 4th, which I received +yesterday, has quieted my fears a good deal, but has not entirely +dissipated them. YOUR FEVER STILL CONTINUES, he says, THOUGH IN A LESS +DEGREE. Is it a continued fever, or an intermitting one? If the former, +no wonder that you are weak, and that your head aches. If the latter, why +has not the bark, in substance and large doses, been administered? for if +it had, it must have stopped it by this time. Next post, I hope, will set +me quite at ease. Surely you have not been so regular as you ought, +either in your medicines or in your general regimen, otherwise this fever +would not have returned; for the Doctor calls it, YOUR FEVER RETURNED, as +if you had an exclusive patent for it. You have now had illnesses enough, +to know the value of health, and to make you implicitly follow the +prescriptions of your physician in medicines, and the rules of your own +common sense in diet; in which, I can assure you, from my own experience, +that quantity is often worse than quality; and I would rather eat half a +pound of bacon at a meal, than two pounds of any the most wholesome food. + +I have been settled here near a week, to my great satisfaction; ‘c’est ma +place’, and I know it, which is not given to everybody. Cut off from +social life by my deafness, as well as other physical ills, and being at +best but the ghost of my former self, I walk here in silence and solitude +as becomes a ghost: with this only difference, that I walk by day, +whereas, you know, to be sure, that other ghosts only appear by night. My +health, however, is better than it was last year, thanks to my almost +total milk diet. This enables me to vary my solitary amusements, and +alternately to scribble as well as read, which I could not do last year. +Thus I saunter away the remainder, be it more or less, of an agitated and +active life, now reduced (and I am not sure that I am a loser by the +change) to so quiet and serene a one, that it may properly be called +still life. + +The French whisper in confidence, in order that it may be the more known +and the more credited, that they intend to invade us this year, in no +less than three places; that is England, Scotland, and Ireland. Some of +our great men, like the devils, believe and tremble; others, and one +little one whom I know, laugh at it; and, in general, it seems to be but +a poor, instead of a formidable scarecrow. While somebody was at the head +of a moderate army, and wanted (I know why) to be at the head of a great +one, intended invasions were made an article of political faith; and the +belief of them was required, as in the Church the belief of some +absurdities, and even impossibilities, is required upon pain of heresy, +excommunication, and consequently damnation, if they tend to the power +and interest of the heads of the Church. But now that there is a general +toleration, and that the best subjects, as well as the best Christians, +may believe what their reasons find their consciences suggest, it is +generally and rationally supposed the French will threaten and not +strike, since we are so well prepared, both by armies and fleets, to +receive and, I may add, to destroy them. Adieu! God bless you. + + + + +LETTER CCXLV + +BLACKHEATH, June 15, 1759 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Your letter of the 5th, which I received yesterday, gave +me great satisfaction, being all in your own hand; though it contains +great, and I fear just complaints of your ill state of health. You do +very well to change the air; and I hope that change will do well by you. +I would therefore have you write after the 20th of August, to Lord +Holderness, to beg of him to obtain his Majesty’s leave for you to return +to England for two or three months, upon account of your health. Two or +three months is an indefinite time, which may afterward insensibly +stretched to what length one pleases; leave that to me. In the meantime, +you may be taking your measures with the best economy. + +The day before yesterday, an express arrived from Guadaloupe which +brought an account of our being in possession of the whole island. And I +make no manner of doubt but that, in about two months, we shall have as +good news from Crown-point, Quebec, etc. Our affairs in Germany, I fear, +will not be equally prosperous; for I have very little hopes for the King +of Prussia or Prince Ferdinand. God bless you. + + + + +LETTER CCXLVI + +BLACKHEATH, June 25, 1759 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The two last mails have brought me no letter from you or +your secretary. I will take this as a sign that you are better; but, +however, if you thought that I cared to know, you should have cared to +have written. Here the weather has been very fine for a fortnight +together, a longer term than in this climate we are used to hold fine +weather by. I hope it is so, too, at Hamburg, or at least at the villa to +which you are gone; but pray do not let it be your ‘villa viciosa’, as +those retirements are often called, and too often prove; though, by the +way, the original name was ‘villa vezzosa’; and by wags miscalled +‘viciosa’. + +I have a most gloomy prospect of affairs in Germany; the French are +already in possession of Cassel, and of the learned part of Hanover, that +is Gottingen; where I presume they will not stop ‘pour l’amour des belles +lettres’, but rather go on to the capital, and study them upon the coin. +My old acquaintance, Monsieur Richelieu, made a great progress there in +metallic learning and inscriptions. If Prince Ferdinand ventures a battle +to prevent it, I dread the consequences; the odds are too great against +him. The King of Prussia is still in a worse situation; for he has the +Hydra to encounter; and though he may cut off a head or two, there will +still be enough left to devour him at last. I have, as you know, long +foretold the now approaching catastrophe; but I was Cassandra. Our +affairs in the new world have a much more pleasing aspect; Guadaloupe is +a great acquisition, and Quebec, which I make no doubt of, will still be +greater. But must all these advantages, purchased at the price of so much +English blood and treasure, be at last sacrificed as a peace-offering? +God knows what consequences such a measure may produce; the germ of +discontent is already great, upon the bare supposition of the case; but +should it be realized, it will grow to a harvest of disaffection. + +You are now, to be sure, taking the previous necessary measures for your +return here in the autumn and I think you may disband your whole family, +excepting your secretary, your butler, who takes care of your plate, +wine, etc., one or at most two, maid servants, and your valet de chambre +and one footman, whom you will bring over with you. But give no mortal, +either there or here, reason to think that you are not to return to +Hamburg again. If you are asked about it, say, like Lockhart, that you +are ‘le serviteur des Evenemens’; for your present appointments will do +you no hurt here, till you have some better destination. At that season +of the year, I believe it will be better for you to come by sea than by +land, but that you will be best able to judge of from the then +circumstances of your part in the world. + +Your old friend Stevens is dead of the consumption that has long been +undermining him. God bless you, and send you health. + + + + +[Another two year lapse in the letters. D.W.] + + + + +LETTER CCXLVII + +BATH, February 26, 1761. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I am very glad to hear that your election is finally +settled, and to say the truth, not sorry that Mr.----has been compelled +to do, ‘de mauvaise grace’, that which he might have done at first in a +friendly and handsome manner. However, take no notice of what is passed, +and live with him as you used to do before; for, in the intercourse of +the world, it is often necessary to seem ignorant of what one knows, and +to have forgotten what one remembers. + +I have just now finished Coleman’s play, and like it very well; it is +well conducted, and the characters are well preserved. I own, I expected +from the author more dialogue wit; but, as I know that he is a most +scrupulous classic, I believe he did not dare to put in half so much wit +as he could have done, because Terence had not a single grain; and it +would have been ‘crimen laesae antiquitatis’. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCXLVIII + +BATH, November 21, 1761. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 19th. If I +find any alterations by drinking these waters, now six days, it is rather +for the better; but, in six days more, I think I shall find with more +certainty what humor they are in with me; if kind, I will profit of, but +not abuse their kindness; all things have their bounds, ‘quos ultra +citrave nequit consistere rectum’; and I will endeavor to nick that +point. + +The Queen’s jointure is larger than, from SOME REASONS, I expected it +would be, though not greater than the very last precedent authorized. The +case of the late Lord Wilmington was, I fancy, remembered. + +I have now good reason to believe that Spain will declare war to us, that +is, that it will very soon, if it has not already, avowedly assist +France, in case the war continues. This will be a great triumph to Mr. +Pitt, and fully justify his plan of beginning with Spain first, and +having the first blow, which is often half the battle. + +Here is a great deal of company, and what is commonly called good +company, that is, great quality. I trouble them very little, except at +the pump, where my business calls me; for what is company to a deaf man, +or a deaf man to company? + +Lady Brown, whom I have seen, and who, by the way, has got the gout in +her eye, inquired very tenderly after you. And so I elegantly rest, +Yours, till death. + + + + +LETTER CCXLIX + +BATH, December 6, 1761. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have been in your debt some time, which, you know, I am +not very apt to be: but it was really for want of specie to pay. The +present state of my invention does not enable me to coin; and you would +have had as little pleasure in reading, as I should have in writing ‘le +coglionerie’ of this place; besides, that I am very little mingled in +them. I do not know whether I shall be able to follow, your advice, and +cut a winner; for, at present, I have neither won nor lost a single +shilling. I will play on this week only; and if I have a good run, I will +carry it off with me; if a bad one, the loss can hardly amount to +anything considerable in seven days, for I hope to see you in town +to-morrow sevennight. + +I had a dismal letter from Harte, last week; he tells me that he is at +nurse with a sister in Berkshire; that he has got a confirmed jaundice, +besides twenty other distempers. The true cause of these complaints I +take to be the same that so greatly disordered, and had nearly destroyed +the most august House of Austria, about one hundred and thirty years ago; +I mean Gustavus Adolphus; who neither answered his expectations in point +of profit nor reputation, and that merely by his own fault, in not +writing it in the vulgar tongue; for as to facts I will maintain that it +is one of the best histories extant. + +‘Au revoir’, as Sir Fopling says, and God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCL + +BATH, November 2, 1762. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here, as I proposed, last Sunday; but as ill as +I feared I should be when I saw you. Head, stomach, and limbs, all out of +order. + +I have yet seen nobody but Villettes, who is settled here for good, as it +is called. What consequences has the Duke of Devonshire’s resignation +had? He has considerable connections and relations; but whether any of +them are resigned enough to resign with him, is another matter. There +will be, to be sure, as many, and as absurd reports, as there are in the +law books; I do not desire to know either; but inform me of what facts +come to your knowledge, and of such reports only as you believe are +grounded. And so God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLI + +BATH, November 13, 1762. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received your letter, and believe that your +preliminaries are very near the mark; and, upon that supposition, I think +we have made a tolerable good bargain with Spain; at least full as good +as I expected, and almost as good as I wished, though I do not believe +that we have got ALL Florida; but if we have St. Augustin, I suppose +that, by the figure of ‘pars pro toto’, will be called all Florida. We +have by no means made so good a bargain with France; for, in truth, what +do we get by it, except Canada, with a very proper boundary of the river +Mississippi! and that is all. As for the restrictions upon the French +fishery in Newfoundland, they are very well ‘per la predica’, and for the +Commissary whom we shall employ: for he will have a good salary from +hence, to see that those restrictions are complied with; and the French +will double that salary, that he may allow them all to be broken through. +It is plain to me, that the French fishery will be exactly what it was +before the war. + +The three Leeward islands, which the French yield to us, are not, all +together, worth half so much as that of St. Lucia, which we give up to +them. Senegal is not worth one quarter of Goree. The restrictions of the +French in the East Indies are as absurd and impracticable as those of +Newfoundland; and you will live to see the French trade to the East +Indies, just as they did before the war. But after all I have said, the +articles are as good as I expected with France, when I considered that no +one single person who carried on this negotiation on our parts was ever +concerned or consulted in any negotiation before. Upon the whole, then, +the acquisition of Canada has cost us fourscore millions sterling. I am +convinced we might have kept Guadaloupe, if our negotiators had known how +to have gone about it. + +His most faithful Majesty of Portugal is the best off of anybody in this, +transaction, for he saves his kingdom by it, and has not laid out one +moidore in defense of it. Spain, thank God, in some measure, ‘paye les +pots cassis’; for, besides St. Augustin, logwood, etc., it has lost at +least four millions sterling, in money, ships, etc. + +Harte is here, who tells me he has been at this place these three years, +excepting some few excursions to his sister; he looks ill, and laments +that he has frequent fits of the yellow jaundice. He complains of his not +having heard from you these four years; you should write to him. These +waters have done me a great deal of good, though I drink but two-thirds +of a pint in the whole day, which is less than the soberest of my +countrymen drink of claret at every meal. + +I should naturally think, as you do, that this session will be a stormy +one, that is, if Mr. Pitt takes an active part; but if he is pleased, as +the Ministers say, there is no other AEolus to blow a storm. The Dukes of +Cumberland, Newcastle, and Devonshire, have no better troops to attack +with than the militia; but Pitt alone is ipse agmen. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLII + +BATH, November 27, 1762. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter this morning, and return you the +ball ‘a la volee’. The King’s speech is a very prudent one; and as I +suppose that the addresses in answer to it were, as usual, in almost the +same words, my Lord Mayor might very well call them innocent. As his +Majesty expatiates so much upon the great ACHIEVEMENTS of the war, I +cannot help hoping that, when the preliminaries shall be laid before +Parliament IN DUE TIME, which, I suppose, means after the respective +ratifications of all the contracting parties, that some untalked of and +unexpected advantage will break out in our treaty with France; St. Lucia, +at least. I see in the newspapers an article which I by no means like, in +our treaty with Spain; which is, that we shall be at liberty to cut +logwood in the Bay of Campeachy, BUT BY PAYING FOR IT. Who does not see +that this condition may, and probably will, amount to a prohibition, by +the price which the Spaniards may set it at? It was our undoubted right, +and confirmed to us by former treaties, before the war, to cut logwood +gratis; but this new stipulation (if true) gives us a privilege something +like a reprieve to a criminal, with a ‘non obstante’ to be hanged. + +I now drink so little water, that it can neither do me good nor hurt; but +as I bathe but twice a-week, that operation, which does my rheumatic +carcass good, will keep me here some time longer than you had allowed. + +Harte is going to publish a new edition of his “Gustavus,” in octavo; +which, he tells me, he has altered, and which, I could tell him, he +should translate into English, or it will not sell better than the +former; for, while the world endures, style and manner will be regarded, +at least as much as matter. And so, ‘Diem vous aye dans sa sainte garde’! + + + + +LETTER CCLIII + +BATH, December 13, 1762. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter this morning, with the inclosed +preliminaries, which we have had here these three days; and I return +them, since you intend to keep them, which is more than I believe the +French will. I am very glad to find that the French are to restore all +the conquests they made upon us in the East Indies during this war; and I +cannot doubt but they will likewise restore to us all the cod that they +shall take within less than three leagues of our coasts in North America +(a distance easily measured, especially at sea), according to the spirit, +though not the letter of the treaty. I am informed that the strong +opposition to the peace will be in the House of Lords, though I cannot +well conceive it; nor can I make out above six or seven, who will be +against it upon a division, unless (which I cannot suppose) some of the +Bishops should vote on the side of their maker. God bless you. + + + + +LETTER CCLIV + +BATH, December 13, 1762. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter, which gave me a very +clear account of the debate in your House. It is impossible for a human +creature to speak well for three hours and a half; I question even if +Belial, who, according to Milton, was the orator of the fallen angels, +ever spoke so long at a time. + +There must have been, a trick in Charles Townshend’s speaking for the +Preliminaries; for he is infinitely above having an opinion. Lord +Egremont must be ill, or have thoughts of going into some other place; +perhaps into Lord Granville’s, who they say is dying: when he dies, the +ablest head in England dies too, take it for all in all. + +I shall be in town, barring accidents, this day sevennight, by +dinnertime; when I have ordered a haricot, to which you will be very +welcome, about four o’clock. ‘En attendant Dieu vous aye dans sa sainte +garde’! + + + + +LETTER CCLV + +BLACKHEATH, June 14, 1763 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, by the last mail, your letter of the 4th, +from The Hague; so far so good. + +You arrived ‘sonica’ at The Hague, for our Ambassador’s entertainment; I +find he has been very civil to you. You are in the right to stop for two +or three days at Hanau, and make your court to the lady of that place. +--[Her Royal Highness Princess Mary of England, Landgravine of Hesse.] +--Your Excellency makes a figure already in the newspapers; and let them, +and others, excellency you as much as they please, but pray suffer not +your own servants to do it. + +Nothing new of any kind has happened here since you went; so I will wish +you a good-night, and hope God will bless you. + + + + +LETTER CCLVI + +BLACKHEATH, July 14, 1763 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter from Ratisbon, where I +am glad that you are arrived safe. You are, I find, over head and ears +engaged in ceremony and etiquette. You must not yield in anything +essential, where your public character may suffer; but I advise you, at +the same time, to distinguish carefully what may, and what may not affect +it, and to despise some German ‘minutiae’; such as one step lower or +higher upon the stairs, a bow more or less, and such sort of trifles. + +By what I see in Cressener’s letter to you, the cheapness of wine +compensates the quantity, as the cheapness of servants compensates the +number that you must make use of. + +Write to your mother often, if it be but three words, to prove your +existence; for, when she does not hear from you, she knows to a +demonstration that you are dead, if not buried. + +The inclosed is a letter of the utmost consequence, which I was desired +to forward, with care and speed, to the most Serene LOUIS. + +My head is not well to-day. So God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLVII + +BLACKHEATH, August 1, 1763. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I hope that by this time you are pretty well settled at +Ratisbon, at least as to the important points of the ceremonial; so that +you may know, to precision, to whom you must give, and from whom you must +require the ‘seine Excellentz’. Those formalities are, no doubt, +ridiculous enough in themselves; but yet they are necessary for manners, +and sometimes for business; and both would suffer by laying them quite +aside. + +I have lately had an attack of a new complaint, which I have long +suspected that I had in my body, ‘in actu primo’, as the pedants call it, +but which I never felt in ‘actu secundo’ till last week, and that is a +fit of the stone or gravel. It was, thank God, but a slight one; but it +was ‘dans toutes les formes’; for it was preceded by a pain in my loins, +which I at first took for some remains of my rheumatism; but was soon +convinced of my mistake, by making water much blacker than coffee, with a +prodigious sediment of gravel. I am now perfectly easy again, and have no +more indications of this complaint. + +God keep you from that and deafness! Other complaints are the common, and +almost the inevitable lot of human nature, but admit of some mitigation. +God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLVIII + +BLACKHEATH, August 22, 1763 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: You will, by this post, hear from others that Lord +Egremont died two days ago of an apoplexy; which, from his figure, and +the constant plethora he lived in, was reasonably to be expected. You +will ask me, who is to be Secretary in his room: To which I answer, that +I do not know. I should guess Lord Sandwich, to be succeeded in the +Admiralty by Charles Townshend; unless the Duke of Bedford, who seems to +have taken to himself the department of Europe, should have a mind to it. +This event may perhaps produce others; but, till this happened, +everything was in a state of inaction, and absolutely nothing was done. +Before the next session, this chaos must necessarily take some form, +either by a new jumble of its own atoms, or by mixing them with the more +efficient ones of the opposition. + +I see by the newspapers, as well as by your letter, that the difficulties +still exist about your ceremonial at Ratisbon; should they, from pride +and folly, prove insuperable, and obstruct your real business, there is +one expedient which may perhaps remove difficulties, and which I have +often known practiced; but which I believe our people know here nothing +of; it is, to have the character of MINISTER only in your ostensible +title, and that of envoy extraordinary in your pocket, to produce +occasionally, especially if you should be sent to any of the Electors in +your neighborhood; or else, in any transactions that you may have, in +which your title of envoy extraordinary may create great difficulties, to +have a reversal given you, declaring that the temporary suspension of +that character, ‘ne donnera pas la moindre atteinte ni a vos droits, ni a +vos pretensions’. As for the rest, divert yourself as well as you can, +and eat and drink as little as you can. And so God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLIX + +BLACKHEATH, September 1, 1763 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Great news! The King sent for Mr. Pitt last Saturday, and +the conference lasted a full hour; on the Monday following another +conference, which lasted much longer; and yesterday a third, longer than +either. You take for granted, that the treaty was concluded and ratified; +no such matter, for this last conference broke it entirely off; and Mr. +Pitt and Lord Temple went yesterday evening to their respective country +houses. Would you know what it broke off upon, you must ask the +newsmongers, and the coffee-houses; who, I dare say, know it all very +minutely; but I, who am not apt to know anything that I do not know, +honestly and humbly confess, that I cannot tell you; probably one party +asked too much, and the other would grant too little. However, the King’s +dignity was not, in my mind, much consulted by their making him sole +plenipotentiary of a treaty, which they were not in all events determined +to conclude. It ought surely to have been begun by some inferior agent, +and his Majesty should only have appeared in rejecting or ratifying it. +Louis XIV. never sat down before a town in person, that was not sure to +be taken. + +However, ‘ce qui est differe n’est pas perdu’; for this matter must be +taken up again, and concluded before the meeting of the parliament, and +probably upon more disadvantageous terms to the present Ministers, who +have tacitly admitted, by this negotiation, what their enemies have +loudly proclaimed, that they are not able to carry on affairs. So much +‘de re politica’. + +I have at last done the best office that can be done to most married +people; that is, I have fixed the separation between my brother and his +wife; and the definitive treaty of peace will be proclaimed in about a +fortnight; for the only solid and lasting peace, between a man and his +wife, is, doubtless, a separation. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLX + +BLACKHEATH, September 30, 1763 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: You will have known, long before this, from the office, +that the departments are not cast as you wished; for Lord Halifax, as +senior, had of course his choice, and chose the southern, upon account of +the colonies. The Ministry, such as it is, is now settled ‘en attendant +mieux’; but, in, my opinion cannot, as they are, meet the parliament. + +The only, and all the efficient people they have, are in the House of +Lords: for since Mr. Pitt has firmly engaged Charles Townshend to him, +there is not a man of the court side, in the House of Commons, who has +either abilities or words enough to call a coach. Lord B----is certainly +playing ‘un dessous de cartes’, and I suspect that it is with Mr. Pitt; +but what that ‘dessous’ is, I do not know, though all the coffeehouses do +most exactly. + +The present inaction, I believe, gives you leisure enough for ‘ennui’, +but it gives you time enough too for better things; I mean reading useful +books; and, what is still more useful, conversing with yourself some part +of every day. Lord Shaftesbury recommends self-conversation to all +authors; and I would recommend it to all men; they would be the better +for it. Some people have not time, and fewer have inclination, to enter +into that conversation; nay, very many dread it, and fly to the most +trifling dissipations, in order to avoid it; but, if a man would allot +half an hour every night for this self-conversation, and recapitulate +with himself whatever he has done, right or wrong, in the course of the +day, he would be both the better and the wiser for it. My deafness gives +me more than a sufficient time for self-conversation; and I have found +great advantages from it. My brother and Lady Stanhope are at last +finally parted. I was the negotiator between them; and had so much +trouble in it, that I would much rather negotiate the most difficult +point of the ‘jus publicum Sacri Romani Imperii’ with the whole Diet of +Ratisbon, than negotiate any point with any woman. If my brother had had +some of those self-conversations, which I recommend, he would not, I +believe, at past sixty, with a crazy, battered constitution, and deaf +into the bargain, have married a young girl, just turned of twenty, full +of health, and consequently of desires. But who takes warning by the fate +of others? This, perhaps, proceeds from a negligence of selfconversation. +God bless you. + + + + +LETTER CCLXI + +BLACKHEATH, October 17, 1763 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter of the 2d instant, +as the former had brought me that of the 25th past. I did suppose that +you would be sent over, for the first day of the session; as I never knew +a stricter muster, and no furloughs allowed. I am very sorry for it, for +the reasons you hint at; but, however, you did very prudently, in doing, +‘de bonne grace’, what you could not help doing; and let that be your +rule in every thing for the rest of your life. Avoid disagreeable things +as much as by dexterity you can; but when they are unavoidable, do them +with seeming willingness and alacrity. Though this journey is ill-timed +for you in many respects, yet, in point of FINANCES, you will be a gainer +by it upon the whole; for, depend upon it, they will keep you here till +the very last day of the session: and I suppose you have sold your +horses, and dismissed some of your servants. Though they seem to +apprehend the first day of the session so much, in my opinion their +danger will be much greater in the course of it. + +When you are at Paris, you will of course wait upon Lord Hertford, and +desire him to present you to the King; at the same time make my +compliments to him, and thank him for the very obliging message he left +at my house in town; and tell him, that, had I received it in time from +thence, I would have come to town on purpose to have returned it in +person. If there are any new little books at Paris, pray bring them me. I +have already Voltaire’s ‘Zelis dans le Bain’, his ‘Droit du Seigneur’, +and ‘Olympie’. Do not forget to call once at Madame Monconseil’s, and as +often as you please at Madame du Pin’s. Au revoir. + + + + +LETTER CCLXII + +BATH, November 24, 1763 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here, as you suppose in your letter, last +Sunday; but after the worst day’s journey I ever had in my life: it +snowed and froze that whole morning, and in the evening it rained and +thawed, which made the roads so slippery, that I was six hours coming +post from the Devizes, which is but eighteen miles from hence; so that, +but for the name of coming post, I might as well have walked on foot. I +have not yet quite got over my last violent attack, and am weak and +flimsy. + +I have now drank the waters but three days; so that, without a miracle, I +cannot yet expect much alteration, and I do not in the least expect a +miracle. If they proved ‘les eaux de Jouvence’ to me, that would be a +miracle indeed; but, as the late Pope Lambertini said, ‘Fra noi, gli +miracoli sono passati girt un pezzo’. + +I have seen Harte, who inquired much after you: he is dejected and +dispirited, and thinks himself much worse than he is, though he has +really a tendency to the jaundice. I have yet seen nobody else, nor do I +know who here is to be seen; for I have not yet exhibited myself to +public view, except at the pump, which, at the time I go to it, is the +most private place in Bath. + +After all the fears and hopes, occasioned severally by the meeting of the +parliament, in my opinion, it will prove a very easy session. Mr. Wilkes +is universally given up; and if the ministers themselves do not wantonly +raise difficulties, I think they will meet with none. A majority of two +hundred is a great anodyne. Adieu! God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXIII + +BATH, December 3, 1763. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Last post brought me your letter of the 29th past. I +suppose C-----T-----let off his speech upon the Princess’s portion, +chiefly to show that he was of the opposition; for otherwise, the point +was not debatable, unless as to the quantum, against which something +might be said; for the late Princess of Orange (who was the eldest +daughter of a king) had no more, and her two sisters but half, if I am +not mistaken. + +It is a great mercy that Mr. Wilkes, the intrepid defender of our rights +and liberties, is out of danger, and may live to fight and write again in +support of them; and it is no less a mercy, that God hath raised up the +Earl of S------to vindicate and promote true religion and morality. These +two blessings will justly make an epoch in the annals of this country. + +I have delivered your message to Harte, who waits with impatience for +your letter. He is very happy now in having free access to all Lord +Craven’s papers, which, he says, give him great lights into the ‘bellum +tricenale’; the old Lord Craven having been the professed and valorous +knight-errant, and perhaps something more, to the Queen of Bohemia; at +least, like Sir Peter Pride, he had the honor of spending great part of +his estate in her royal cause: + +I am by no means right yet; I am very weak and flimsy still; but the +doctor assures me that strength and spirits will return; if they do, +‘lucro apponam’, I will make the best of them; if they do not, I will not +make their want still worse by grieving and regretting them. I have lived +long enough, and observed enough, to estimate most things at their +intrinsic, and not their imaginary value; and, at seventy, I find nothing +much worth either desiring or fearing. But these reflections, which suit +with seventy, would be greatly premature at two-and-thirty. So make the +best of your time; enjoy the present hour, but ‘memor ultimae’. God bless +you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXIV + +BATH, December 18, 1763 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter this morning, in which you +reproach me with not having written to you this week. The reason was, +that I did not know what to write. There is that sameness in my life +here, that EVERY DAY IS STILL BUT AS THE FIRST. I see very few people; +and, in the literal sense of the word, I hear nothing. + +Mr. L------and Mr. C-----I hold to be two very ingenious men; and your +image of the two men ruined, one by losing his law-suit, and the other by +carrying it, is a very just one. To be sure, they felt in themselves +uncommon talents for business and speaking, which were to reimburse them. + +Harte has a great poetical work to publish, before it be long; he has +shown me some parts of it. He had entitled it “Emblems,” but I persuaded +him to alter that name for two reasons; the first was, because they were +not emblems, but fables; the second was, that if they had been emblems, +Quarles had degraded and vilified that name to such a degree, that it is +impossible to make use of it after him; so they are to be called fables, +though moral tales would, in my mind, be the properest name. If you ask +me what I think of those I have seen, I must say, that ‘sunt plura bona, +quaedam mediocria, et quaedam----’ + +Your report of future changes, I cannot think is wholly groundless; for +it still runs strongly in my head, that the mine we talked of will be +sprung, at or before the end of the session. + +I have got a little more strength, but not quite the strength of +Hercules; so that I will not undertake, like him, fifty deflorations in +one night; for I really believe that I could not compass them. So +good-night, and God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXV + +BATH, December 24, 1763. + +DEAR FRIEND: I confess I was a good deal surprised at your pressing me so +strongly to influence Parson Rosenhagen, when you well know the +resolution I had made several years ago, and which I have scrupulously +observed ever since, not to concern myself, directly or indirectly, in +any party political contest whatsoever. Let parties go to loggerheads as +much and as long as they please; I will neither endeavor to part them, +nor take the part of either; for I know them all too well. But you say, +that Lord Sandwich has been remarkably civil, and kind to you. I am very +glad of it, and he can by no means impute to you my obstinacy, folly, or +philosophy, call it what you please: you may with great truth assure him, +that you did all you could to obey his commands. + +I am sorry to find that you are out of order, but I hope it is only a +cold; should it be anything more, pray consult Dr. Maty, who did you so +much good in your last illness, when the great medicinal Mattadores did +you rather harm. I have found a Monsieur Diafoirus here, Dr. Moisy, who +has really done me a great deal of good; and I am sure I wanted it a +great deal when I came here first. I have recovered some strength, and a +little more will give me as much as I can make use of. + +Lady Brown, whom I saw yesterday, makes you many compliments; and I wish +you a merry Christmas, and a good-night. Adieu! + + + + +LETTER CCLXVI + +BATH, December 31, 1763 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Gravenkop wrote me word, by the last post, that you were +laid up with the gout: but I much question it, that is, whether it is the +gout or not. Your last illness, before you went abroad, was pronounced +the gout, by the skillful, and proved at last a mere rheumatism. Take +care that the same mistake is not made this year; and that by giving you +strong and hot medicines to throw out the gout, they do not inflame the +rheumatism, if it be one. + +Mr. Wilkes has imitated some of the great men of antiquity, by going into +voluntary exile: it was his only way of defeating both his creditors and +his prosecutors. Whatever his friends, if he has any, give out of his +returning soon, I will answer for it, that it will be a long time before +that soon comes. + +I have been much out of order these four days of a violent cold which I +do not know how I got, and which obliged me to suspend drinking the +waters: but it is now so much better, that I propose resuming them for +this week, and paying my court to you in town on Monday or Tuesday +seven-night: but this is ‘sub spe rati’ only. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXVII + +BLACKHEATH, July 20, 1764. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 3d from +Prague, but I never received that which you mention from Ratisbon; this +made me think you in such rapid motion, that I did not know where to take +aim. I now suppose that you are arrived, though not yet settled, at +Dresden; your audiences and formalities are, to be sure, over, and that +is great ease of mind to you. + +I have no political events to acquaint you with; the summer is not the +season for them, they ripen only in winter; great ones are expected +immediately before the meeting of parliament, but that, you know, is +always the language of fears and hopes. However, I rather believe that +there will be something patched up between the INS and the OUTS. + +The whole subject of conversation, at present, is the death and will of +Lord Bath: he has left above twelve hundred thousand pounds in land and +money; four hundred thousand pounds in cash, stocks, and mortgages; his +own estate, in land, was improved to fifteen thousand pounds a-year, and +the Bradford estate, which he-----is as much; both which, at only +five-and twenty years’ purchase, amount to eight hundred thousand pounds; +and all this he has left to his brother, General Pulteney, and in his own +disposal, though he never loved him. The legacies he has left are +trifling; for, in truth, he cared for nobody: the words GIVE and BEQUEATH +were too shocking for him to repeat, and so he left all in one word to +his brother. The public, which was long the dupe of his simulation and +dissimulation, begins to explain upon him; and draws such a picture of +him as I gave you long ago. + +Your late secretary has been with me three or four times; he wants +something or another, and it seems all one to him what, whether civil or +military; in plain English, he wants bread. He has knocked at the doors +of some of the ministers, but to no purpose. I wish with all my heart +that I could help him: I told him fairly that I could not, but advised +him to find some channel to Lord B-----, which, though a Scotchman, he +told me he could not. He brought a packet of letters from the office to +you, which I made him seal up; and keep it for you, as I suppose it makes +up the series of your Ratisbon letters. + +As for me, I am just what I was when you left me, that is, nobody. Old +age steals upon me insensibly. I grow weak and decrepit, but do not +suffer, and so I am content. + +Forbes brought me four books of yours, two of which were Bielefeldt’s +“Letters,” in which, to my knowledge, there are many notorious lies. + +Make my compliments to Comte Einsiedel, whom I love and honor much; and +so good-night to ‘seine Excellentz’. + +Now our correspondence may be more regular, and I expect a letter from +you every fortnight. I will be regular on my part: but write oftener to +your mother, if it be but three lines. + + + + +LETTER CCLXVIII + +BLACKHEATH, July 27,1764 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, two days ago, your letter of the 11th from +Dresden, where I am very glad that, you are safely arrived at last. The +prices of the necessaries of life are monstrous there; and I do not +conceive how the poor natives subsist at all, after having been so long +and so often plundered by their own as well as by other sovereigns. + +As for procuring you either the title or the appointments of +Plenipotentiary, I could as soon procure them from the Turkish as from +the English Ministry; and, in truth, I believe they have it not to give. + +Now to come to your civil list, if one may compare small things with +great: I think I have found out a better refreshment for it than you +propose; for to-morrow I shall send to your cashier, Mr. Larpent, five +hundred pounds at once, for your use, which, I presume, is better than by +quarterly payments; and I am very apt to think that next midsummer day, +he will have the same sum, and for the same use, consigned to him. + +It is reported here, and I believe not without some foundation, that the +queen of Hungary has acceded to the Family Compact between France and +Spain: if so, I am sure it behooves us to form in time a counter +alliance, of at least equal strength; which I could easily point out, but +which, I fear, is not thought of here. + +The rage of marrying is very prevalent; so that there will be probably a +great crop of cuckolds next winter, who are at present only ‘cocus en +herbs’. It will contribute to population, and so far must be allowed to +be a public benefit. Lord G------, Mr. B-------, and Mr. D-------, are, +in this respect, very meritorious; for they have all married handsome +women, without one shilling fortune. Lord must indeed take some pains to +arrive at that dignity: but I dare say he will bring it about, by the +help of some young Scotch or Irish officer. Good-night, and God bless +you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXIX + +BLACKHEATH, September 3, 1764. + +DEAR FRIEND: I have received your letter of the 13th past. I see that +your complete arrangement approaches, and you need not be in a hurry to +give entertainments, since so few others do. + +Comte Flemming is the man in the world the best calculated to retrieve +the Saxon finances, which have been all this century squandered and +lavished with the most absurd profusion: he has certainly abilities, and +I believe integrity; I dare answer for him, that the gentleness and +flexibility of his temper will not prevail with him to yield to the +importunities of craving and petulant applications. I see in him another +Sully; and therefore I wish he were at the head of our finances. + +France and Spain both insult us, and we take it too tamely; for this is, +in my opinion, the time for us to talk high to them. France, I am +persuaded, will not quarrel with us till it has got a navy at least equal +to ours, which cannot be these three or four years at soonest; and then, +indeed, I believe we shall hear of something or other; therefore, this is +the moment for us to speak loud; and we shall be feared, if we do not +show that we fear. + +Here is no domestic news of changes and chances in the political world; +which, like oysters, are only in season in the R months, when the +parliament sits. I think there will be some then, but of what kind, God +knows. + +I have received a book for you, and one for myself, from Harte. It is +upon agriculture, and will surprise you, as I confess it did me. This +work is not only in English, but good and elegant English; he has even +scattered graces upon his subject; and in prose, has come very near +Virgil’s “Georgics” in verse. I have written to him, to congratulate his +happy transformation. As soon as I can find an opportunity, I will send +you your copy. You (though no Agricola) will read it with pleasure. + +I know Mackenzie, whom you mention. ‘C’est une delie; sed cave’. + +Make mine and Lady Chesterfield’s compliments to Comte et Comtesse +Flemming; and so, ‘Dieu vous aye en sa sainte garde’! + + + + +LETTER CCLXX + +BLACKHEATH, September 14, 1764 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter of the 30th past, by +which I find that you had not then got mine, which I sent you the day +after I had received your former; you have had no great loss of it; for, +as I told you in my last, this inactive season of the year supplies no +materials for a letter; the winter may, and probably will, produce an +abundant crop, but of what grain I neither know, guess, nor care. I take +it for granted, that Lord B------‘surnagera encore’, but by the +assistance of what bladders or cork-waistcoats God only knows. The death +of poor Mr. Legge, the epileptic fits of the Duke of Devonshire, for +which he is gone to Aix-la-Chapelle, and the advanced age of the Duke of +Newcastle, seem to facilitate an accommodation, if Mr. Pitt and Lord Bute +are inclined to it. + +You ask me what I think of the death of poor Iwan, and of the person who +ordered it. You may remember that I often said, she would murder or marry +him, or probably both; she has chosen the safest alternative; and has now +completed her character of femme forte, above scruples and hesitation. If +Machiavel were alive, she would probably be his heroine, as Caesar Borgia +was his hero. Women are all so far Machiavelians, that they are never +either good or bad by halves; their passions are too strong, and their +reason too weak, to do anything with moderation. She will, perhaps, meet, +before it is long, with some Scythian as free from prejudices as herself. +If there is one Oliver Cromwell in the three regiments of guards, he will +probably, for the sake of his dear country, depose and murder her; for +that is one and the same thing in Russia. + +You seem now to have settled, and ‘bien nippe’ at Dresden. Four sedentary +footmen, and one running one, ‘font equipage leste’. The German ones will +give you, ‘seine Excellentz’; and the French ones, if you have any, +Monseigneur. + +My own health varies, as usual, but never deviates into good. God bless +you, and send you better! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXI + +BLACKHEATH, October 4, 1764. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now your last letter, of the 16th past, lying +before me, and I gave your inclosed to Grevenkop, which has put him into +a violent bustle to execute your commissions, as well and as cheap as +possible. I refer him to his own letter. He tells you true as to Comtesse +Cosel’s diamonds, which certainly nobody will buy here, unsight unseen, +as they call it; so many minutiae concurring to increase or lessen the +value of a diamond. Your Cheshire cheese, your Burton ale and beer, I +charge myself with, and they shall be sent you as soon as possible. Upon +this occasion I will give you a piece of advice, which by experience I +know to be useful. In all commissions, whether from men or women, ‘point +de galanterie’, bring them in your account, and be paid to the uttermost +farthing; but if you would show them ‘une galanterie’, let your present +be of something that is not in your commission, otherwise you will be the +‘Commissionaire banal’ of all the women of Saxony. ‘A propos’, Who is +your Comtesse de Cosel? Is she daughter, or grand-daughter, of the famous +Madame de Cosel, in King Augustus’s time? Is she young or old, ugly or +handsome? + +I do not wonder that people are wonderfully surprised at our tameness and +forbearance, with regard to France and Spain. Spain, indeed, has lately +agreed to our cutting log wood, according to the treaty, and sent strict +orders to their governor to allow it; but you will observe too, that +there is not one word of reparation for the losses we lately sustained +there. But France is not even so tractable; it will pay but half the +money due, upon a liquidated account, for the maintenance of their +prisoners. Our request, to have the Comte d’Estaing recalled and +censured, they have absolutely rejected, though, by the laws of war, he +might be hanged for having twice broke his parole. This does not do +France honor: however, I think we shall be quiet, and that at the only +time, perhaps this century, when we might, with safety, be otherwise: but +this is nothing new, nor the first time, by many, when national honor and +interest have been sacrificed to private. It has always been so: and one +may say, upon this occasion, what Horace says upon another, ‘Nam fuit +ante Helenam’. + +I have seen ‘les Contes de Guillaume Vade’, and like most of them so +little, that I can hardly think them Voltaire’s, but rather the scraps +that have fallen from his table, and been worked up by inferior workmen, +under his name. I have not seen the other book you mention, the +‘Dictionnaire Portatif’. It is not yet come over. + +I shall next week go to take my winter quarters in London, the weather +here being very cold and damp, and not proper for an old, shattered, and +cold carcass, like mine. In November I will go to the Bath, to careen +myself for the winter, and to shift the scene. Good-night. + + + + +LETTER CCLXXII + +LONDON, October 19, 1764. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday morning Mr.-----came to me, from Lord Halifax, +to ask me whether I thought you would approve of vacating your seat in +parliament, during the remainder of it, upon a valuable consideration, +meaning MONEY. My answer was, that I really did not know your disposition +upon that subject: but that I knew you would be very willing, in general, +to accommodate them, so far as lay in your power: that your election, to +my knowledge, had cost you two thousand pounds; that this parliament had +not sat above half its time; and that, for my part, I approved of the +measure well enough, provided you had an equitable equivalent. I take it +for granted that you will have a letter from------, by this post, to that +effect, so that you must consider what you will do. What I advise is +this: Give them a good deal of ‘Galbanum’ in the first part of your +letter. ‘Le Galbanum ne coute rien’; and then say that you are willing to +do as they please; but that you hope an equitable consideration will be +had to the two thousand pounds, which your seat cost you in the present +parliament, of which not above half the term is expired. Moreover, that +you take the liberty to remind them, that your being sent from Ratisbon, +last session, when you were just settled there, put you to the expense of +three or four hundred pounds, for which you were allowed nothing; and +that, therefore, you hope they will not think one thousand pounds too +much, considering all these circumstances: but that, in all events, you +will do whatever they desire. Upon the whole, I think this proposal +advantageous to you, as you probably will not make use of your seat this +parliament; and, further, as it will secure you from another unpaid +journey from Dresden, in case they meet, or fear to meet, with +difficulties in any ensuing session of the present parliament. Whatever +one must do, one should do ‘de bonne grace’. ‘Dixi’. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXIII + +BATH, November 10, 1764. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I am much concerned at the account you gave me of +yourself, in your last letter. There is, to be sure, at such a town as +Dresden, at least some one very skillful physician, whom I hope you have +consulted; and I would have you acquaint him with all your several +attacks of this nature, from your great one at Laubach, to your late one +at Dresden: tell him, too, that in your last illness in England, the +physicians mistook your case, and treated it as the gout, till Maty came, +who treated it as a rheumatism, and cured you. In my own opinion, you +have never had the gout, but always the rheumatism; which, to my +knowledge, is as painful as the gout can possibly be, and should be +treated in a quite different way; that is, by cooling medicines and +regimen, instead of those inflammatory cordials which they always +administer where they suppose the gout, to keep it, as they say, out of +the stomach. + +I have been here now just a week; but have hitherto drank so little of +the water, that I can neither speak well nor ill of it. The number of +people in this place is infinite; but very few whom I know. Harte seems +settled here for life. He is not well, that is certain; but not so ill +neither as he thinks himself, or at least would be thought. + +I long for your answer to my last letter, containing a certain proposal, +which, by this time, I suppose has been made you, and which, in the main, +I approve of your accepting. + +God bless you, my dear friend! and send you better health! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCLXXIV + +LONDON, February 26, 1765 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last letter, of the 5th, gave me as much pleasure as +your former had given me uneasiness; and Larpent’s acknowledgment of his +negligence frees you from those suspicions, which I own I did entertain, +and which I believe every one would, in the same concurrence of +circumstances, have entertained. So much for that. + +You may depend upon what I promised you, before midsummer next, at +farthest, and AT LEAST. + +All I can say of the affair between you, of the Corps Diplomatique, and +the Saxon Ministers, is, ‘que voila bien du bruit pour une omelette au +lard’. It will most certainly be soon made up; and in that negotiation +show yourself as moderate and healing as your instructions from hence +will allow, especially to Comte de Flemming. The King of Prussia, I +believe, has a mind to insult him personally, as an old enemy, or else to +quarrel with Saxony, that dares not quarrel with him; but some of the +Corps Diplomatique here assure me it is only a pretense to recall his +envoy, and to send, when matters shall be made up, a little secretary +there, ‘a moins de fraix’, as he does now to Paris and London. + +Comte Bruhl is much in fashion here; I like him mightily; he has very +much ‘le ton de la bonne campagnie’. Poor Schrader died last Saturday, +without the least pain or sickness. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXV + +LONDON, April 22, 1765 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The day before yesterday I received your letter of the 3d +instant. I find that your important affair of the ceremonial is adjusted +at last, as I foresaw it would be. Such minutiae are often laid hold on +as a pretense, for powers who have a mind to quarrel; but are never +tenaciously insisted upon where there is neither interest nor inclination +to break. Comte Flemming, though a hot, is a wise man; and I was sure +would not break, both with England and Hanover, upon so trifling a point, +especially during a minority. ‘A propos’ of a minority; the King is to +come to the House to-morrow, to recommend a bill to settle a Regency, in +case of his demise while his successor is a minor. Upon the King’s late +illness, which was no trifling one, the whole nation cried out aloud for +such a bill, for reasons which will readily occur to you, who know +situations, persons, and characters here. I do not know the particulars +of this intended bill; but I wish it may be copied exactly from that +which was passed in the late King’s time, when the present King was a +minor. I am sure there cannot be a better. + +You inquire about Monsieur de Guerchy’s affair; and I will give you as +succinct an account as I can of so extraordinary and perplexed a +transaction: but without giving you my own opinion of it by the common +post. You know what passed at first between Mr. de Guerchy and Monsieur +d’Eon, in which both our Ministers and Monsieur de Guerchy, from utter +inexperience in business, puzzled themselves into disagreeable +difficulties. About three or four months ago, Monsieur du Vergy published +in a brochure, a parcel of letters, from himself to the Duc de Choiseul; +in which he positively asserts that Monsieur de Guerchy prevailed with +him (Vergy) to come over into England to assassinate d’Eon; the words +are, as well as I remember, ‘que ce n’etoit pas pour se servir de sa +plume, mais de son epee, qu’on le demandoit en Angleterre’. This +accusation of assassination, you may imagine, shocked Monsieur de +Guerchy, who complained bitterly to our Ministers; and they both puzzled +on for some time, without doing anything, because they did not know what +to do. At last du Vergy, about two months ago, applied himself to the +Grand Jury of Middlesex, and made oath that Mr. de Guerchy had hired him +(du Vergy) to assassinate d’Eon. Upon this deposition, the Grand jury +found a bill of intended murder against Monsieur de Guerchy; which bill, +however, never came to the Petty Jury. The King granted a ‘noli prosequi’ +in favor of Monsieur de Guerchy; and the Attorney-General is actually +prosecuting du Vergy. Whether the King can grant a ‘noli prosequi’ in a +criminal case, and whether ‘le droit des gens’ extends to criminal cases, +are two points which employ our domestic politicians, and the whole Corps +Diplomatique. ‘Enfin’, to use a very coarse and vulgar saying, ‘il y a de +la merde au bout du baton, quelque part’. + +I see and hear these storms from shore, ‘suave mari magno’, etc. I enjoy +my own security and tranquillity, together with better health than I had +reason to expect at my age, and with my constitution: however, I feel a +gradual decay, though a gentle one; and I think that I shall not tumble, +but slide gently to the bottom of the hill of life. When that will be, I +neither know nor care, for I am very weary. God bless you! + +Mallet died two days ago, of a diarrhoea, which he had carried with him +to France, and brought back again hither. + + + + +LETTER CCLXXVI + +BLACKHEATH, July 2, 1765 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 22d past; +and I delayed answering your former in daily, or rather hourly +expectation of informing you of the birth of a new Ministry; but in vain; +for, after a thousand conferences, all things remain still in the state +which I described to you in my last. Lord S. has, I believe, given you a +pretty true account of the present state of things; but my Lord is much +mistaken, I am persuaded, when he says that THE KING HAS THOUGHT PROPER +TO RE-ESTABLISH HIS OLD SERVANTS IN THE MANAGEMENT OF HIS AFFAIRS; for he +shows them all the public dislike possible; and, at his levee, hardly +speaks to any of them; but speaks by the hour to anybody else. +Conferences, in the meantime, go on, of which it is easy to guess the +main subject, but impossible, for me at least, to know the particulars; +but this I will venture to prophesy, that the whole will soon centre in +Mr. Pitt. + +You seem not to know the character of the Queen: here it is. She is a +good woman, a good wife, a tender mother; and an unmeddling Queen. The +King loves her as a woman; but, I verily believe, has never yet spoke one +word to her about business. I have now told you all that I know of these +affairs; which, I believe, is as much as anybody else knows, who is not +in the secret. In the meantime, you easily guess that surmises, +conjectures, and reports are infinite; and if, as they say, truth is but +one, one million at least of these reports must be false; for they differ +exceedingly. + +You have lost an honest servant by the death of poor Louis; I would +advise you to take a clever young Saxon in his room, of whose character +you may get authentic testimonies, instead of sending for one to France, +whose character you can only know from far. + +When I hear more, I will write more; till when, God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXVII + +BLACKHEATH, July 15, 1765 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I told you in my last, that you should hear from me +again, as soon as I had anything more to write; and now I have too much +to write, therefore will refer you to the “Gazette,” and the office +letters, for all that has been done; and advise you to suspend your +opinion, as I do, about all that is to be done. Many more changes are +talked of, but so idly, and variously, that I give credit to none of +them. There has been pretty clean sweeping already; and I do not +remember, in my time, to have seen so much at once, as an entire new +Board of Treasury, and two new Secretaries of State, ‘cum multis aliis’, +etc. + +Here is a new political arch almost built, but of materials of so +different a nature, and without a key-stone, that it does not, in my +opinion, indicate either strength or duration. It will certainly require +repairs, and a key-stone next winter; and that key-stone will, and must +necessarily be, Mr. Pitt. It is true he might have been that keystone +now; and would have accepted it, but not without Lord Temple’s consent, +and Lord Temple positively refused. There was evidently some trick in +this, but what is past my conjecturing. ‘Davus sum, non OEdipus’. + +There is a manifest interregnum in the Treasury; for I do suppose that +Lord Rockingham and Mr. Dowdeswell will not think proper to be very +active. General Conway, who is your Secretary, has certainly parts at +least equal to his business, to which, I dare say, he will apply. The +same may be said, I believe, of the Duke of Grafton; and indeed there is +no magic requisite for the executive part of those employments. The +ministerial part is another thing; they must scramble with their +fellow-servants, for power and favor, as well as they can. Foreign +affairs are not so much as mentioned, and, I verily believe, not thought +of. But surely some counterbalance would be necessary to the Family +compact; and, if not soon contracted, will be too late. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXVIII + +BLACKHEATH, August 17, 1765 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: You are now two letters in my debt; and I fear the gout +has been the cause of your contracting that debt. When you are not able +to write yourself, let your Secretary send me two or three lines to +acquaint me how you are. + +You have now seen by the London “Gazette,” what changes have really been +made at court; but, at the same time, I believe you have seen that there +must be more, before a Ministry can be settled; what those will be, God +knows. Were I to conjecture, I should say that the whole will centre, +before it is long, in Mr. Pitt and Co., the present being an +heterogeneous jumble of youth and caducity, which cannot be efficient. + +Charles Townshend calls the present a Lutestring Ministry; fit only for +the summer. The next session will be not only a warm, but a violent one, +as you will easily judge; if you look over the names of the INS and of +the OUTS. + +I feel this beginning of the autumn, which is already very cold: the +leaves are withered, fall apace, and seem to intimate that I must follow +them; which I shall do without reluctance, being extremely weary of this +silly world. God bless you, both in it and after it! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXIX + +BLACKHEATH, August 25, 1765 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received but four days ago your letter of the 2d +instant. I find by it that you are well, for you are in good spirits. +Your notion of the new birth or regeneration of the Ministry is a very +just one; and that they have not yet the true seal of the covenant is, I +dare say, very true; at least it is not in the possession of either of +the Secretaries of State, who have only the King’s seal; nor do I believe +(whatever his Grace may imagine) that it is even in the possession of the +Lord Privy Seal. I own I am lost, in considering the present situation of +affairs; different conjectures present themselves to my mind, but none +that it can rest upon. The next session must necessarily clear up matters +a good deal; for I believe it will be the warmest and most acrimonious +one that has been known, since that of the Excise. The late Ministry, THE +PRESENT OPPOSITION, are determined to attack Lord B-----publicly in +parliament, and reduce the late Opposition, THE PRESENT MINISTRY, to +protect him publicly, in consequence of their supposed treaty with him. +‘En attendant mieux’, the paper war is carried on with much fury and +scurrility on all sides, to the great entertainment of such lazy and +impartial people as myself: I do not know whether you have the “Daily +Advertiser,” and the “Public Advertiser,” in which all political letters +are inserted, and some very well-written ones on both sides; but I know +that they amuse me, ‘tant bien que mal’, for an hour or two every +morning. Lord T------is the supposed author of the pamphlet you mention; +but I think it is above him. Perhaps his brother C----T------, who is by +no means satisfied with the present arrangement, may have assisted him +privately. As to this latter, there was a good ridiculous paragraph in +the newspapers two or three days ago. WE HEAR THAT THE RIGHT HONORABLE +MR. C-----T------IS INDISPOSED AT HIS HOUSE IN OXFORDSHIRE, OF A PAIN IN +HIS SIDE; BUT IT IS NOT SAID IN WHICH SIDE. + +I do not find that the Duke of York has yet visited you; if he should, it +may be expensive, ‘mais on trouvera moyen’. As for the lady, if you +should be very sharp set for some English flesh, she has it amply in her +power to supply you if she pleases. Pray tell me in your next, what you +think of, and how you like, Prince Henry of Prussia. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXX + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Your great character of Prince Henry, which I take to be +a very just one, lowers the King of Prussia’s a great deal; and probably +that is the cause of their being so ill together. But the King of +Prussia, with his good parts, should reflect upon that trite and true +maxim, ‘Qui invidet minor’, or Mr. de la Rouchefoucault’s, ‘Que l’envie +est la plus basse de toutes les passions, puisqu’on avoue bien des +crimes, mais que personae n’avoue l’envie’. I thank God, I never was +sensible of that dark and vile passion, except that formerly I have +sometimes envied a successful rival with a fine woman. But now that cause +is ceased, and consequently the effects. + +What shall I, or rather what can I tell you of the political world here? +The late Ministers accuse the present with having done nothing, the +present accuse the late ones with having done much worse than nothing. +Their writers abuse one another most scurrilously, but sometimes with +wit. I look upon this to be ‘peloter en attendant partie’, till battle +begins in St., Stephen’s Chapel. How that will end, I protest I cannot +conjecture; any farther than this, that if Mr. Pitt does not come into +the assistance of the present ministers, they will have much to do to +stand their ground. C-----T------will play booty; and who else have they? +Nobody but C-----, who has only good sense, but not the necessary talents +nor experience, ‘AEre ciere viros martemque accendere cantu’. I never +remember, in all my time, to have seen so problematical a state of +affairs, and a man would be much puzzled which side to bet on. + +Your guest, Miss C-----, is another problem which I cannot solve. She no +more wanted the waters of Carlsbadt than you did. Is it to show the Duke +of Kingston that he cannot live without her? a dangerous experiment! +which may possibly convince him that he can. There is a trick no doubt in +it; but what, I neither know nor care; you did very well to show her +civilities, ‘cela ne gute jamais rien’. I will go to my waters, that is, +the Bath waters, in three weeks or a month, more for the sake of bathing +than of drinking. The hot bath always promotes my perspiration, which is +sluggish, and supples my stiff rheumatic limbs. ‘D’ailleurs’, I am at +present as well, and better than I could reasonably expect to be, ‘annu +septuagesimo primo’. May you be so as long, ‘y mas’! God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXXI + +LONDON, October 25, 1765 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter of the 10th ‘sonica’; for I set +out for Bath to-morrow morning. + +If the use of those waters does me no good, the shifting the scene for +some time will at least amuse me a little; and at my age, and with my +infirmities, ‘il faut faire de tout bois feche’. Some variety is as +necessary for the mind as some medicines are for the body. + +Here is a total stagnation of politics, which, I suppose, will continue +till the parliament sits to do business, and that will not be till about +the middle of January; for the meeting on the 17th December is only for +the sake of some new writs. The late ministers threaten the present ones; +but the latter do not seem in the least afraid of the former, and for a +very good reason, which is, that they have the distribution of the loaves +and fishes. I believe it is very certain that Mr. Pitt will never come +into this, or any other administration: he is absolutely a cripple all +the year, and in violent pain at least half of it. Such physical ills are +great checks to two of the strongest passions to which human nature is +liable, love and ambition. Though I cannot persuade myself that the +present ministry can be long lived, I can as little imagine who or what +can succeed them, ‘telle est la-disette de sujets papables’. The Duke of +swears that he will have Lord personally attacked in both Houses; but I +do not see how, without endangering himself at the same time. + +Miss C------is safely arrived here, and her Duke is fonder of her than +ever. It was a dangerous experiment that she tried, in leaving him so +long; but it seems she knew her man. + +I pity you for the inundation of your good countrymen, which overwhelms +you; ‘je sais ce qu’en vaut l’aune. It is, besides, expensive, but, as I +look upon the expense to be the least evil of the two, I will see if a +New-Year’s gift will not make it up. + +As I am now upon the wing, I will only add, God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXXII + +BATH, November 28, 1765 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 10th. I +have now been here a month, bathing and drinking the waters, for +complaints much of the same kind as yours, I mean pains in my legs, hips, +and arms: whether gouty or rheumatic, God knows; but, I believe, both, +that fight without a decision in favor of either, and have absolutely +reduced me to the miserable situation of the Sphinx’s riddle, to walk +upon three legs; that is, with the assistance of my stick, to walk, or +rather hobble, very indifferently. I wish it were a declared gout, which +is the distemper of a gentleman; whereas the rheumatism is the distemper +of a hackney-coachman or chairman, who is obliged to be out in all +weathers and at all hours. + +I think you will do very right to ask leave, and I dare say you will +easily get it, to go to the baths in Suabia; that is, supposing that you +have consulted some skillful physician, if such a one there be, either at +Dresden or at Leipsic, about the nature of your distemper, and the nature +of those baths; but, ‘suos quisque patimur manes’. We have but a bad +bargain, God knows, of this life, and patience is the only way not to +make bad worse. Mr. Pitt keeps his bed here, with a very real gout, and +not a political one, as is often suspected. + +Here has been a congress of most of the ‘ex Ministres’. If they have +raised a battery, as I suppose they have, it is a masked one, for nothing +has transpired; only they confess that they intend a most vigorous +attack. ‘D’ailleurs’, there seems to be a total suspension of all +business, till the meeting of the parliament, and then ‘Signa canant’. I +am very glad that at this time you are out of it: and for reasons that I +need not mention: you would certainly have been sent for over, and, as +before, not paid for your journey. + +Poor Harte is very ill, and condemned to the Hot well at Bristol. He is a +better poet than philosopher: for all this illness and melancholy +proceeds originally from the ill success of his “Gustavus Adolphus.” He +is grown extremely devout, which I am very glad of, because that is +always a comfort to the afflicted. + +I cannot present Mr. Larpent with my New-Year’s gift, till I come to +town, which will be before Christmas at farthest; till when, God bless +you! Adieu. + + + + +LETTER CCLXXXIII + +LONDON, December 27, 1765. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here from Bath last Monday, rather, but not +much better, than when I went over there. My rheumatic pains, in my legs +and hips, plague me still, and I must never expect to be quite free from +them. + +You have, to be sure, had from the office an account of what the +parliament did, or rather did not do, the day of their meeting; and the +same point will be the great object at their next meeting; I mean the +affair of our American Colonies, relatively to the late imposed +Stamp-duty, which our Colonists absolutely refuse to pay. The +Administration are for some indulgence and forbearance to those froward +children of their mother country; the Opposition are for taking vigorous, +as they call them, but I call them violent measures; not less than ‘les +dragonnades’; and to have the tax collected by the troops we have there. +For my part, I never saw a froward child mended by whipping; and I would +not have the mother country become a stepmother. Our trade to America +brings in, ‘communibus annis’, two millions a year; and the Stamp-duty is +estimated at but one hundred thousand pounds a year; which I would by no +means bring into the stock of the Exchequer, at the loss or even the risk +of a million a year to the national stock. + +I do not tell you of the Garter given away yesterday, because the +newspapers will; but, I must observe, that the Prince of Brunswick’s +riband is a mark of great distinction to that family; which I believe, is +the first (except our own Royal Family) that has ever had two blue +ribands at a time; but it must be owned they deserve them. + +One hears of nothing now in town, but the separation of men and their +wives. Will Finch, the Ex-vice Chamberlain, Lord Warwick, and your friend +Lord Bolingbroke. I wonder at none of them for parting; but I wonder at +many for still living together; for in this country it is certain that +marriage is not well understood. + +I have this day sent Mr. Larpent two hundred pounds for your +Christmas-box, of which I suppose he will inform you by this post. Make +this Christmas as merry a one as you can; for ‘pour le peu du bon tems +qui nous reste, rien nest si funeste, qu’un noir chagrin’. For the new +years--God send you many, and happy ones! Adieu. + + + + + LETTERS TO HIS SON + 1766-71 + + By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD + + on the Fine Art of becoming a + + MAN OF THE WORLD + + and a + + GENTLEMAN + + + + +LETTER CCLXXXIV + +LONDON, February 11, 1766 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received two days ago your letter of the 25th past; and +your former, which you mention in it, but ten days ago; this may easily +be accounted for from the badness of the weather, and consequently of the +roads. I hardly remember so severe a win ter; it has occasioned many +illnesses here. I am sure it pinched my crazy carcass so much that, about +three weeks ago, I was obliged to be let blood twice in four days, which +I found afterward was very necessary, by the relief it gave to my head +and to the rheumatic pains in my limbs; and from the execrable kind of +blood which I lost. + +Perhaps you expect from me a particular account of the present state of +affairs here; but if you do you will be disappointed; for no man living +(and I still less than anyone) knows what it is; it varies, not only +daily, but hourly. + +Most people think, and I among the rest, that the date of the present +Ministers is pretty near out; but how soon we are to have a new style, +God knows. This, however, is certain, that the Ministers had a contested +election in the House of Commons, and got it but by eleven votes; too +small a majority to carry anything; the next day they lost a question in +the House of Lords, by three. The question in the House of Lords was, to +enforce the execution of the Stamp-act in the colonies ‘vi et armis’. +What conclusions you will draw from these premises, I do not know; but I +protest I draw none; but only stare at the present undecipherable state +of affairs, which, in fifty years’ experience, I have never seen anything +like. The Stamp-act has proved a most pernicious measure; for, whether it +is repealed or not, which is still very doubtful, it has given such +terror to the Americans, that our trade with them will not be, for some +years, what it used to be; and great numbers of our manufacturers at home +will be turned a starving for want of that employment which our very +profitable trade to America found them: and hunger is always the cause of +tumults and sedition. + +As you have escaped a fit of the gout in this severe cold weather, it is +to be hoped you may be entirely free from it, till next winter at least. + +P. S. Lord having parted with his wife, now, keeps another w---e, at a +great expense. I fear he is totally undone. + + + + +LETTER CCLXXXV + +LONDON, March 17, 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: You wrong me in thinking me in your debt; for I never +receive a letter of yours, but I answer it by the next post, or the next +but one, at furthest: but I can easily conceive that my two last letters +to you may have been drowned or frozen in their way; for portents and +prodigies of frost, snow, and inundations, have been so frequent this +winter, that they have almost lost their names. + +You tell me that you are going to the baths of BADEN; but that puzzles me +a little, so I recommend this letter to the care of Mr. Larpent, to +forward to you; for Baden I take to be the general German word for baths, +and the particular ones are distinguished by some epithet, as Weissbaden, +Carlsbaden, etc. I hope they are not cold baths, which I have a very ill +opinion of, in all arthritic or rheumatic cases; and your case I take to +be a compound of both, but rather more of the latter. + +You will probably wonder that I tell you nothing of public matters; upon +which I shall be as secret as Hotspur’s gentle Kate, who would not tell +what she did not know; but what is singular, nobody seems to know any +more of them than I do. People gape, stare, conjecture, and refine. +Changes of the Ministry, or in the Ministry at least, are daily reported +and foretold, but of what kind, God only knows. It is also very doubtful +whether Mr. Pitt will come into the Administration or not; the two +present Secretaries are extremely desirous that he should; but the others +think of the horse that called the man to its assistance. I will say +nothing to you about American affairs, because I have not pens, ink, or +paper enough to give you an intelligible account of them. They have been +the subjects of warm and acrimonious debates, both in the Lords and +Commons, and in all companies. + +The repeal of the Stamp-act is at last carried through. I am glad of it, +and gave my proxy for it, because I saw many more inconveniences from the +enforcing than from the repealing it. + +Colonel Browne was with me the other day, and assured me that he left you +very well. He said he saw you at Spa, but I did not remember him; though +I remember his two brothers, the Colonel and the ravisher, very well. +Your Saxon colonel has the brogue exceedingly. Present my respects to +Count Flemming; I am very sorry for the Countess’s illness; she was a +most well-bred woman. + +You would hardly think that I gave a dinner to the Prince of Brunswick, +your old acquaintance. I glad it is over; but I could not avoid it. ‘Il +m’avait tabli de politesses’. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXXVI + +BLACKHEATH, June 13, 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 30th past. I +waited with impatience for it, not having received one from you in six +weeks; nor your mother neither, who began to be very sure that you were +dead, if not buried. You should write to her once a week, or at least +once a-fortnight; for women make no allowance either for business or +laziness; whereas I can, by experience, make allowances for both: +however, I wish you would generally write to me once a fortnight. + +Last week I paid my midsummer offering, of five hundred pounds, to Mr. +Larpent, for your use, as I suppose he has informed you. I am punctual, +you must allow. + +What account shall I give you of ministerial affairs here? I protest I do +not know: your own description of them is as exact a one as any I, who am +upon the place, can give you. It is a total dislocation and +‘derangement’; consequently a total inefficiency. When the Duke of +Grafton quitted the seals, he gave that very reason for it, in a speech +in the House of Lords: he declared, “that he had no objection to the +persons or the measures of the present Ministers; but that he thought +they wanted strength and efficiency to carry on proper measures with +success; and that he knew but one man MEANING, AS YOU WILL EASILY +SUPPOSE, MR. PITT who could give them strength and solidity; that, under +this person, he should be willing to serve in any capacity, not only as a +General Officer, but as a pioneer; and would take up a spade and a +mattock.” When he quitted the seals, they were offered first to Lord +Egmont, then to Lord Hardwicke; who both declined them, probably for the +same reasons that made the Duke of Grafton resign them; but after their +going a-begging for some time, the Duke of-------begged them, and has +them ‘faute de mieux’. Lord Mountstuart was never thought of for Vienna, +where Lord Stormont returns in three months; the former is going to be +married to one of the Miss Windsors, a great fortune. To tell you the +speculations, the reasonings, and the conjectures, either of the +uninformed, or even of the best-informed public, upon the present +wonderful situation of affairs, would take up much more time and paper +than either you or I can afford, though we have neither of us a great +deal of business at present. + +I am in as good health as I could reasonably expect, at my age, and with +my shattered carcass; that is, from the waist upward; but downward it is +not the same: for my limbs retain that stiffness and debility of my long +rheumatism; I cannot walk half an hour at a time. As the autumn, and +still more as the winter approaches, take care to keep yourself very +warm, especially your legs and feet. + +Lady Chesterfield sends you her compliments, and triumphs in the success +of her plaster. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXXVII + +BLACKHEATH, July 11, 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: You are a happy mortal, to have your time thus employed +between the great and the fair; I hope you do the honors of your country +to the latter. The Emperor, by your account, seems to be very well for an +emperor; who, by being above the other monarchs in Europe, may justly be +supposed to have had a proportionably worse education. I find, by your +account of him, that he has been trained up to homicide, the only science +in which princes are ever instructed; and with good reason, as their +greatness and glory singly depend upon the numbers of their +fellow-creatures which their ambition exterminates. If a sovereign +should, by great accident, deviate into moderation, justice, and +clemency, what a contemptible figure would he make in the catalogue of +princes! I have always owned a great regard for King Log. From the +interview at Torgaw, between the two monarchs, they will be either a +great deal better or worse together; but I think rather the latter; for +our namesake, Philip de Co mines, observes, that he never knew any good +come from l’abouchement des Rois. The King of Prussia will exert all his +perspicacity to analyze his Imperial Majesty; and I would bet upon the +one head of his black eagle, against the two heads of the Austrian eagle; +though two heads are said, proverbially, to be better than one. I wish I +had the direction of both the monarchs, and they should, together with +some of their allies, take Lorraine and Alsace from France. You will call +me ‘l’Abbe de St. Pierre’; but I only say what I wish; whereas he thought +everything that he wished practicable. + +Now to come home. Here are great bustles at Court, and a great change of +persons is certainly very near. You will ask me, perhaps, who is to be +out, and who is to be in? To which I answer, I do not know. My conjecture +is that, be the new settlement what it will, Mr. Pitt will be at the head +of it. If he is, I presume, ‘qu’il aura mis de l’eau dans son vin par +rapport a Mylord B-----; when that shall come to be known, as known it +certainly will soon be, he may bid adieu to his popularity. A minister, +as minister, is very apt to be the object of public dislike; and a +favorite, as favorite, still more so. If any event of this kind happens, +which (if it happens at all) I conjecture will be some time next week, +you shall hear further from me. + +I will follow your advice, and be as well as I can next winter, though I +know I shall never be free from my flying rheumatic pains, as long as I +live; but whether that will be more or less, is extremely indifferent to +me; in either case, God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXXVIII + +BLACKHEATH, August 1, 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The curtain was at last drawn up, the day before +yesterday, and discovered the new actors, together with some of the old +ones. I do not name them to you, because to-morrow’s Gazette will do it +full as well as I could. Mr. Pitt, who had carte blanche given him, named +everyone of them: but what would you think he named himself for? Lord +Privy Seal; and (what will astonish you, as it does every mortal here) +Earl of Chatham. The joke here is, that he has had A FALL UP STAIRS, and +has done himself so much hurt, that he will never be able to stand upon +his leg’s again. Everybody is puzzled how to account for this step; +though it would not be the first time that great abilities have been +duped by low cunning. But be it what it will, he is now certainly only +Earl of Chatham; and no longer Mr. Pitt, in any respect whatever. Such an +event, I believe, was never read nor heard of. To withdraw, in the +fullness of his power and in the utmost gratification of his ambition, +from the House of Commons (which procured him his power, and which could +alone insure it to him), and to go into that hospital of incurables, the +House of Lords, is a measure so unaccountable, that nothing but proof +positive could have made me believe it: but true it is. Hans Stanley is +to go Ambassador to Russia; and my nephew, Ellis, to Spain, decorated +with the red riband. Lord Shelburne is your Secretary of State, which I +suppose he has notified to you this post, by a circular letter. Charles +Townshend has now the sole management of the House of Commons; but how +long he will be content to be only Lord Chatham’s vicegerent there, is a +question which I will not pretend to decide. There is one very bad sign +for Lord Chatham, in his new dignity; which is, that all his enemies, +without exception, rejoice at it; and all his friends are stupefied and +dumbfounded. If I mistake not much, he will, in the course of a year, +enjoy perfect ‘otium cum dignitate’. Enough of politics. + +Is the fair, or at least the fat, Miss C----with you still? It must be +confessed that she knows the arts of courts, to be so received at +Dresden, and so connived at in Leicester-fields. + +There never was so wet a summer as this has been, in the memory of man; +we have not had one single day, since March, without some rain; but most +days a great deal. I hope that does not affect your health, as great cold +does; for, with all these inundations, it has not been cold. God bless +you! + + + + +LETTER CCLXXXIX + +BLACKHEATH, August 14, 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 30th past, and I +find by it that it crossed mine upon the road, where they had no time to +take notice of one another. + +The newspapers have informed you, before now, of the changes actually +made; more will probably follow, but what, I am sure, I cannot tell you; +and I believe nobody can, not even those who are to make them: they will, +I suppose, be occasional, as people behave themselves. The causes and +consequences of Mr. Pitt’s quarrel now appear in print, in a pamphlet +published by Lord T------; and in a refutation of it, not by Mr. Pitt +himself, I believe, but by some friend of his, and under his sanction. +The former is very scurrilous and scandalous, and betrays private +conversation. My Lord says, that in his last conference, he thought he +had as good a right to nominate the new Ministry as Mr. Pitt, and +consequently named Lord G-----, Lord L------, etc., for Cabinet Council +employments; which Mr. Pitt not consenting to, Lord T-----broke up the +conference, and in his wrath went to Stowe; where I presume he may remain +undisturbed a great while, since Mr. Pitt will neither be willing nor +able to send for him again. The pamphlet, on the part of Mr. Pitt, gives +an account of his whole political life; and, in that respect, is tedious +to those who were acquainted with it before; but, at the latter end, +there is an article that expresses such supreme contempt of Lord T-----, +and in so pretty a manner, that I suspect it to be Mr. Pitt’s own: you +shall judge yourself, for I here transcribe the article: “But this I will +be bold to say, that had he (Lord T-----) not fastened himself into Mr. +Pitt’s train, and acquired thereby such an interest in that great man, he +might have crept out of life with as little notice as he crept in; and +gone off with no other degree of credit, than that of adding a single +unit to the bills of mortality” I wish I could send you all the pamphlets +and half-sheets that swarm here upon this occasion; but that is +impossible; for every week would make a ship’s cargo. It is certain, that +Mr. Pitt has, by his dignity of Earl, lost the greatest part of his +popularity, especially in the city; and I believe the Opposition will be +very strong, and perhaps prevail, next session, in the House of Commons; +there being now nobody there who can have the authority and ascendant +over them that Pitt had. + +People tell me here, as young Harvey told you at Dresden, that I look +very well; but those are words of course, which everyone says to +everybody. So far is true, that I am better than at my age, and with my +broken constitution, I could have expected to be. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCXC + +BLACKHEATH, September 12, 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 27th past. +I was in hopes that your course of waters this year at Baden would have +given you a longer reprieve from your painful complaint. If I do not +mistake, you carried over with you some of Dr. Monsey’s powders. Have you +taken any of them, and have they done you any good? I know they did me a +great deal. I, who pretend to some skill in physic, advise a cool +regimen, and cooling medicines. + +I do not wonder, that you do wonder, at Lord C-----‘s conduct. If he was +not outwitted into his peerage by Lord B----, his accepting it is utterly +inexplicable. The instruments he has chosen for the great office, I +believe, will never fit the same case. It was cruel to put such a boy as +Lord G---over the head of old Ligonier; and if I had been the former, I +would have refused that commission, during the life of that honest and +brave old general. All this to quiet the Duke of R----to a resignation, +and to make Lord B----Lieutenant of Ireland, where, I will venture to +prophesy, that he will not do. Ligonier was much pressed to give up his +regiment of guards, but would by no means do it; and declared that the +King might break him if he pleased, but that he would certainly not break +himself. + +I have no political events to inform you of; they will not be ripe till +the meeting of the parliament. Immediately upon the receipt of this +letter, write me one, to acquaint me how you are. + +God bless you; and, particularly, may He send you health, for that is the +greatest blessing! + + + + +LETTER CCXCI + +BLACKHEATH, September 30, 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, yesterday, with great pleasure, your letter +of the 18th, by which I consider this last ugly bout as over; and, to +prevent its return, I greatly approve of your plan for the south of +France, where I recommend for your principal residence, Pezenas Toulouse, +or Bordeaux; but do not be persuaded to go to Aix en Provence, which, by +experience, I know to be at once the hottest and the coldest place in the +world, from the ardor of the Provencal sun, and the sharpness of the +Alpine winds. I also earnestly recommend to you, for your complaint upon +your breast, to take, twice a-day, asses’ or (what is better mares’ +milk), and that for these six months at least. Mingle turnips, as much as +you can, with your diet. + +I have written, as you desired, to Mr. Secretary Conway; but I will +answer for it that there will be no difficulty to obtain the leave you +ask. + +There is no new event in the political world since my last; so God bless +you! + + + + +LETTER CCXCII + +LONDON, October 29, 7766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter of the 17th. I am +glad to hear that your breast is so much better. You will find both +asses’ and mares’ milk enough in the south of France, where it was much +drank when I was there. Guy Patin recommends to a patient to have no +doctor but a horse, and no apothecary but an ass. As for your pains and +weakness in your limbs, ‘je vous en offre autant’; I have never been free +from them since my last rheumatism. I use my legs as much as I can, and +you should do so too, for disuse makes them worse. I cannot now use them +long at a time, because of the weakness of old age; but I contrive to +get, by different snatches, at least two hours’ walking every day, either +in my garden or within doors, as the weather permits. I set out to-morrow +for Bath, in hopes of half repairs, for Medea’s kettle could not give me +whole ones; the timbers of my wretched vessel are too much decayed to be +fitted out again for use. I shall see poor Harte there, who, I am told, +is in a miserable way, between some real and some imaginary distempers. + +I send you no political news, for one reason, among others, which is that +I know none. Great expectations are raised of this session, which meets +the 11th of next month; but of what kind nobody knows, and consequently +everybody conjectures variously. Lord Chatham comes to town to-morrow +from Bath, where he has been to refit himself for the winter campaign; he +has hitherto but an indifferent set of aides-decamp; and where he will +find better, I do not know. Charles Townshend and he are already upon ill +terms. ‘Enfin je n’y vois goutte’; and so God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCXCIII + +BATH, November 15, 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 5th +instant from Basle. I am very glad to find that your breast is relieved, +though perhaps at the expense of your legs: for, if the humor be either +gouty or rheumatic, it had better be in your legs than anywhere else. I +have consulted Moisy, the great physician of this place, upon it; who +says, that at this distance he dares not prescribe anything, as there may +be such different causes for your complaint, which must be well weighed +by a physician upon the spot; that is, in short, that he knows nothing of +the matter. I will therefore tell you my own case, in 1732, which may be +something parallel to yours. I had that year been dangerously ill of a +fever in Holland; and when I was recovered of it, the febrific humor fell +into my legs, and swelled them to that degree, and chiefly in the +evening, that it was as painful to me as it was shocking to others. I +came to England with them in this condition; and consulted Mead, +Broxholme, and Arbuthnot, who none of them did me the least good; but, on +the contrary, increased the swelling, by applying poultices and +emollients. In this condition I remained near six months, till finding +that the doctors could do me no good, I resolved to consult Palmer, the +most eminent surgeon of St. Thomas’s Hospital. He immediately told me +that the physicians had pursued a very wrong method, as the swelling of +my legs proceeded only from a relaxation and weakness of the cutaneous +vessels; and he must apply strengtheners instead of emollients. +Accordingly, he ordered me to put my legs up to the knees every morning +in brine from the salters, as hot as I could bear it; the brine must have +had meat salted in it. I did so; and after having thus pickled my legs +for about three weeks, the complaint absolutely ceased, and I have never +had the least swelling in them since. After what I have said, I must +caution you not to use the same remedy rashly, and without the most +skillful advice you can find, where you are; for if your swelling +proceeds from a gouty, or rheumatic humor, there may be great danger in +applying so powerful an astringent, and perhaps REPELLANT as brine. So go +piano, and not without the best advice, upon a view of the parts. + +I shall direct all my letters to you ‘Chez Monsieur Sarraxin’, who by his +trade is, I suppose, ‘sedentaire’ at Basle, while it is not sure that you +will be at any one place in the south of France. Do you know that he is a +descendant of the French poet Sarrazin? + +Poor Harte, whom I frequently go to see here, out of compassion, is in a +most miserable way; he has had a stroke of the palsy, which has deprived +him of the use of his right leg, affected his speech a good deal, and +perhaps his head a little. Such are the intermediate tributes that we are +forced to pay, in some shape or other, to our wretched nature, till we +pay the last great one of all. May you pay this very late, and as few +intermediate tributes as possible; and so ‘jubeo te bene valere’. God +bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCXCIV + +BATH, December 9, 1766. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, two days ago, your letter of the 26th past. I +am very glad that you begin to feel the good effects of the climate where +you are; I know it saved my life, in 1741, when both the skillful and the +unskillful gave me over. In that ramble I stayed three or four days at +Nimes, where there are more remains of antiquity, I believe, than in any +town in Europe, Italy excepted. What is falsely called ‘la maison +quarree’, is, in my mind, the finest piece of architecture that I ever +saw; and the amphitheater the clumsiest and the ugliest: if it were in +England, everybody would swear it had been built by Sir John Vanbrugh. + +This place is now, just what you have seen it formerly; here is a great +crowd of trifling and unknown people, whom I seldom frequent, in the +public rooms; so that I may pass my time ‘tres uniment’, in taking the +air in my post-chaise every morning, and in reading of evenings. And ‘a +propos’ of the latter, I shall point out a book, which I believe will +give you some pleasure; at least it gave me a great deal. I never read it +before. It is ‘Reflexions sur la Poesie et la Peinture, par l’Abbee de +Bos’, in two octavo volumes; and is, I suppose, to be had at every great +town in France. The criticisms and the reflections are just and lively. + +It may be you expect some political news from me: but I can tell you that +you will have none, for no mortal can comprehend the present state of +affairs. Eight or nine people of some consequence have resigned their +employments; upon which Lord C-----made overtures to the Duke of +B-----and his people; but they could by no means agree, and his Grace +went, the next day, full of wrath, to Woburn, so that negotiation is +entirely at an end. People wait to see who Lord C-----will take in, for +some he must have; even HE cannot be alone, ‘contra mundum’. Such a state +of affairs, to be sure, was never seen before, in this or in any other +country. When this Ministry shall be settled, it will be the sixth +Ministry in six years’ time. + +Poor Harte is here, and in a most miserable condition; those who wish him +the best, as I do, must wish him dead. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCXCV + +LONDON, February 13, 1767. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: It is so long since I have had a letter from you, that I +am alarmed about your health; and fear that the southern parts of France +have not done so well by you as they did by me in the year 1741, when +they snatched me from the jaws of death. Let me know, upon the receipt of +this letter, how you are, and where you are. + +I have no news to send you from hence; for everything seems suspended, +both in the court and in the parliament, till Lord Chatham’s return from +the Bath, where he has been laid up this month, by a severe fit of the +gout; and, at present, he has the sole apparent power. In what little +business has hitherto been done in the House of Commons, Charles +Townshend has given himself more ministerial airs than Lord Chatham will, +I believe, approve of. However, since Lord Chatham has thought fit to +withdraw himself from that House, he cannot well do without Charles’ +abilities to manage it as his deputy. + +I do not send you an account of weddings, births, and burials, as I take +it for granted that you know them all from the English printed papers; +some of which, I presume, are sent after you. Your old acquaintance, Lord +Essex, is to be married this week to Harriet Bladen, who has L20,000 +down, besides the reasonable expectation of as much at the death of her +father. My kinsman, Lord Strathmore, is to be married in a fortnight, to +Miss Bowes, the greatest heiress perhaps in Europe. In short, the +matrimonial frenzy seems to rage at present, and is epidemical. The men +marry for money, and I believe you guess what the women marry for. God +bless you, and send you health! + + + + +LETTER CCXCVI + +LONDON, March 3, 1767 + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received two letters at once from you, both +dated Montpellier; one of the 29th of last December, and the other the +12th of February: but I cannot conceive what became of my letters to you; +for, I assure you, that I answered all yours the next post after I +received them; and, about ten days ago, I wrote you a volunteer, because +you had been so long silent, and I was afraid that you were not well; but +your letter of the 12th of February has removed all my fears upon that +score. The same climate that has restored your health so far will +probably, in a little more time, restore your strength too; though you +must not expect it to be quite what it was before your late painful +complaints. At least I find that, since my late great rheumatism, I +cannot walk above half an hour at a time, which I do not place singly to +the account of my years, but chiefly to the great shock given then to my +limbs. ‘D’ailleurs’ I am pretty well for my age and shattered +constitution. + +As I told you in my last, I must tell you again in this, that I have no +news to send. Lord Chatham, at last, came to town yesterday, full of +gout, and is not able to stir hand or foot. During his absence, Charles +Townshend has talked of him, and at him, in such a manner, that +henceforward they must be either much worse or much better together than +ever they were in their lives. On Friday last, Mr. Dowdeswell and Mr. +Grenville moved to have one shilling in the pound of the land tax taken +off; which was opposed by the Court; but the Court lost it by eighteen. +The Opposition triumph much upon this victory; though, I think, without +reason; for it is plain that all the landed gentlemen bribed themselves +with this shilling in the pound. + +The Duke of Buccleugh is very soon to be married to Lady Betty Montague. +Lord Essex was married yesterday, to Harriet Bladen; and Lord Strathmore, +last week, to Miss Bowes; both couples went directly from the church to +consummation in the country, from an unnecessary fear that they should +not be tired of each other if they stayed in town. And now ‘dixi’; God +bless you! + +You are in the right to go to see the assembly of the states of, +Languedoc, though they are but the shadow of the original Etats, while +there was some liberty subsisting in France. + + + + +LETTER CCXCVII + +LONDON, April 6, 1767. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter from Nimes, by which I +find that several of our letters have reciprocally miscarried. This may +probably have the same fate; however, if it reaches Monsieur Sarrazin, I +presume he will know where to take his aim at you; for I find you are in +motion, and with a polarity to Dresden. I am very glad to find by it, +that your meridional journey has perfectly recovered you, as to your +general state of health; for as to your legs and thighs, you must never +expect that they will be restored to their original strength and +activity, after so many rheumatic attacks as you have had. I know that my +limbs, besides the natural debility of old age, have never recovered the +severe attack of rheumatism that plagued me five or six years ago. I +cannot now walk above half an hour at a time and even that in a hobbling +kind of way. + +I can give you no account of our political world, which is in a situation +that I never saw in my whole life. Lord Chatham has been so ill, these +last two months, that he has not been able (some say not willing) to do +or hear of any business, and for his ‘sous Ministres’, they either +cannot, or dare not, do any, without his directions; so everything is now +at a stand. This situation, I think, cannot last much longer, and if Lord +Chatham should either quit his post, or the world, neither of which is +very improbable, I conjecture, that which is called the Rockingham +Connection stands the fairest for the Ministry. But this is merely my +conjecture, for I have neither ‘data’ nor ‘postulata’ enough to reason +upon. + +When you get to Dresden, which I hope you will not do till next month, +our correspondence will be more regular. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCXCVIII + +LONDON, May 5, 1767, + +MY DEAR FRIEND: By your letter of the 25th past, from Basle, I presume +this will find you at Dresden, and accordingly I direct to you there. +When you write me word that you are at Dresden, I will return you an +answer, with something better than the answer itself. + +If you complain of the weather, north of Besancon, what would you say to +the weather that we have had here for these last two months, +uninterruptedly? Snow often, northeast wind constantly, and extreme cold. +I write this by the side of a good fire; and at this moment it snows very +hard. All my promised fruit at Blackheath is quite destroyed; and, what +is worse, many of my trees. + +I cannot help thinking that the King of Poland, the Empress of Russia, +and the King of Prussia, ‘s’entendent comme larrons en foire’, though the +former must not appear in it upon account of the stupidity, ignorance, +and bigotry of his Poles. I have a great opinion of the cogency of the +controversial arguments of the Russian troops, in favor of the +Dissidents: I am sure I wish them success; for I would have all +intoleration intolerated in its turn. We shall soon see more clearly into +this matter; for I do not think that the Autocratrice of all the Russias +will be trifled with by the Sarmatians. + +What do you think of the late extraordinary event in Spain? Could you +have ever imagined that those ignorant Goths would have dared to banish +the Jesuits? There must have been some very grave and important reasons +for so extraordinary a measure: but what they were I do not pretend to +guess; and perhaps I shall never know, though all the coffeehouses here +do. + +Things are here in exactly the same situation, in which they were when I +wrote to you last. Lord Chatham is still ill, and only goes abroad for an +hour in a day, to take the air, in his coach. The King has, to my certain +knowledge, sent him repeated messages, desiring him not to be concerned +at his confinement, for that he is resolved to support him, ‘pour et +contre tous’. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCXCIX + +LONDON, June 1, 1767. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 20th past, from +Dresden, where I am glad to find that you are arrived safe and sound. +This has been everywhere an ‘annus mirabilis’ for bad weather, and it +continues here still. Everybody has fires, and their winter clothes, as +at Christmas. The town is extremely sickly; and sudden deaths have been +very frequent. + +I do not know what to say to you upon public matters; things remain in +‘statu quo’, and nothing is done. Great changes are talked of, and, I +believe, will happen soon, perhaps next week; but who is to be changed, +for whom, I do not know, though everybody else does. I am apt to think +that it will be a mosaic Ministry, made up ‘de pieces rapportees’ from +different connections. + +Last Friday I sent your subsidy to Mr. Larpent, who, I suppose, has given +you notice of it. I believe it will come very seasonably, as all places, +both foreign and domestic, are so far in arrears. They talk of paying you +all up to Christmas. The King’s inferior servants are almost starving. + +I suppose you have already heard, at Dresden, that Count Bruhl is either +actually married, or very soon to be so, to Lady Egremont. She has, +together with her salary as Lady of the Bed-chamber, L2,500 a year, +besides ten thousand pounds in money left her, at her own disposal, by +Lord Egremont. All this will sound great ‘en ecus d’Allemagne’. I am glad +of it, for he is a very pretty man. God bless you! + +I easily conceive why Orloff influences the Empress of all the Russias; +but I cannot see why the King of Prussia should be influenced by that +motive. + + + + +LETTER CCC + +BLACKHEATH, JULY 2, 1767. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Though I have had no letter from you since my last, and +though I have no political news to inform you of, I write this to +acquaint you with a piece of Greenwich news, which I believe you will be +very glad of; I am sure I am. Know then that your friend Miss-----was +happily married, three days ago, to Mr.-------, an Irish gentleman, and a +member of that parliament, with an estate of above L2,000 a-year. He +settles upon her L600 jointure, and in case they have no children, +L1,500. He happened to be by chance in her company one day here, and was +at once shot dead by her charms; but as dead men sometimes walk, he +walked to her the next morning, and tendered her his person and his +fortune; both which, taking the one with the other, she very prudently +accepted, for his person is sixty years old. + +Ministerial affairs are still in the same ridiculous and doubtful +situation as when I wrote to you last. Lord Chatham will neither hear of, +nor do any business, but lives at Hampstead, and rides about the heath. +His gout is said to be fallen upon his nerves. Your provincial secretary, +Conway, quits this week, and returns to the army, for which he +languished. Two Lords are talked of to succeed him; Lord Egmont and Lord +Hillsborough: I rather hope the latter. Lord Northington certainly quits +this week; but nobody guesses who is to succeed him as President. A +thousand other changes are talked of, which I neither believe nor reject. + +Poor Harte is in a most miserable condition: He has lost one side of +himself, and in a great measure his speech; notwithstanding which, he is +going to publish his DIVINE POEMS, as he calls them. I am sorry for it, +as he had not time to correct them before this stroke, nor abilities to +do it since. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCCI + +BLACKHEATH, July 9, 1767. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received yours of the 21st past, with the inclosed +proposal from the French ‘refugies, for a subscription toward building +them ‘un temple’. I have shown it to the very few people I see, but +without the least success. They told me (and with too much truth) that +while such numbers of poor were literally starving here from the dearness +of all provisions, they could not think of sending their money into +another country, for a building which they reckoned useless. In truth, I +never knew such misery as is here now; and it affects both the hearts and +the purses of those who have either; for my own part, I never gave to a +building in my life; which I reckon is only giving to masons and +carpenters, and the treasurer of the undertaking. + +Contrary to the expectations of all mankind here, everything still +continues in ‘statu quo’. General Conway has been desired by the King to +keep the seals till he has found a successor for him, and the Lord +President the same. Lord Chatham is relapsed, and worse than ever: he +sees nobody, and nobody sees him: it is said that a bungling physician +has checked his gout, and thrown it upon his nerves; which is the worst +distemper that a minister or a lover can have, as it debilitates the mind +of the former and the body of the latter. Here is at present an +interregnum. We must soon see what order will be produced from this +chaos. + +The Electorate, I believe, will find the want of Comte Flemming; for he +certainly had abilities, and was as sturdy and inexorable as a Minister +at the head of the finances ought always to be. When you see Comtesse +Flemming, which I suppose cannot be for some time, pray make her Lady +Chesterfield’s and my compliments of condolence. + +You say that Dresden is very sickly; I am sure London is at least as +sickly now, for there reigns an epidemical distemper, called by the +genteel name of ‘l’influenza’. It is a little fever, of which scarcely +anybody dies; and it generally goes off with a little looseness. I have +escaped it, I believe, by being here. God keep you from all distempers, +and bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCCII + +LONDON, October 30, 1767. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now left Blackheath, till the next summer, if I +live till then; and am just able to write, which is all I can say, for I +am extremely weak, and have in a great measure lost the use of my legs; I +hope they will recover both flesh and strength, for at present they have +neither. I go to the Bath next week, in hopes of half repairs at most; +for those waters, I am sure, will not prove Medea’s kettle, nor ‘les eaux +de Jouvence’ to me; however, I shall do as good courtiers do, and get +what I can, if I cannot get what I will. I send you no politics, for here +are neither politics nor ministers; Lord Chatham is quiet at Pynsent, in +Somersetshire, and his former subalterns do nothing, so that nothing is +done. Whatever places or preferments are disposed of, come evidently from +Lord-------, who affects to be invisible; and who, like a woodcock, +thinks that if his head is but hid, he is not seen at all. + +General Pulteney is at last dead, last week, worth above thirteen hundred +thousand pounds. He has left all his landed estate, which is eight and +twenty thousand pounds a-year, including the Bradford estate, which his +brother had from that ancient family, to a cousin-german. He has left two +hundred thousand pounds, in the funds, to Lord Darlington, who was his +next nearest relation; and at least twenty thousand pounds in various +legacies. If riches alone could make people happy, the last two +proprietors of this immense wealth ought to have been so, but they never +were. + +God bless you, and send you good health, which is better than all the +riches of the world! + + + + +LETTER CCCIII + +LONDON, November 3, 1767. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last letter brought me but a scurvy account of your +health. For the headaches you complain of, I will venture to prescribe a +remedy, which, by experience, I found a specific, when I was extremely +plagued with them. It is either to chew ten grains of rhubarb every night +going to bed: or, what I think rather better, to take, immediately before +dinner, a couple of rhubarb pills, of five grains each; by which means it +mixes with the aliments, and will, by degrees, keep your body gently +open. I do it to this day, and find great good by it. As you seem to +dread the approach of a German winter, I would advise you to write to +General Conway, for leave of absence for the three rigorous winter +months, which I dare say will not be refused. If you choose a worse +climate, you may come to London; but if you choose a better and a warmer, +you may go to Nice en Provence, where Sir William Stanhope is gone to +pass his winter, who, I am sure, will be extremely glad of your company +there. + +I go to the Bath next Saturday. ‘Utinam de frustra’. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCCIV + +BATH, September 19, 1767. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter of the 29th past, and am +very glad to find that you are well enough to think that you may perhaps +stand the winter at Dresden; but if you do, pray take care to keep both +your body and your limbs exceedingly warm. + +As to my own health, it is, in general, as good as I could expect it, at +my age; I have a good stomach, a good digestion, and sleep well; but find +that I shall never recover the free use of my legs, which are now full as +weak as when I first came hither. + +You ask me questions concerning Lord C------, which neither I, nor, I +believe, anybody but himself can answer; however, I will tell you all +that I do know, and all that I guess, concerning him. This time +twelvemonth he was here, and in good health and spirits, except now and +then some little twinges of the gout. We saw one another four or five +times, at our respective houses; but for these last eight months, he has +been absolutely invisible to his most intimate friends, ‘les sous +Ministres’: he would receive no letters, nor so much as open any packet +about business. + +His physician, Dr.-----, as I am told, had, very ignorantly, checked a +coming fit of the gout, and scattered it about his body; and it fell +particularly upon his nerves, so that he continues exceedingly vaporish; +and would neither see nor speak to anybody while he was here. I sent him +my compliments, and asked leave to wait upon him; but he sent me word +that he was too ill to see anybody whatsoever. I met him frequently +taking the air in his post-chaise, and he looked very well. He set out +from hence for London last Tuesday; but what to do, whether to resume, or +finally to resign the Administration, God knows; conjectures are various. +In one of our conversations here, this time twelvemonth, I desired him to +secure you a seat in the new parliament; he assured me that he would, +and, I am convinced, very sincerely; he said even that he would make it +his own affair; and desired that I would give myself no more trouble +about it. Since that, I have heard no more of it; which made me look out +for some venal borough and I spoke to a borough-jobber, and offered +five-and-twenty hundred pounds for a secure seat in parliament; but he +laughed at my offer, and said that there was no such thing as a borough +to be had now, for that the rich East and West Indians had secured them +all, at the rate of three thousand pounds at least; but many at four +thousand, and two or three that he knew, at five thousand. This, I +confess, has vexed me a good deal; and made me the more impatient to know +whether Lord C---had done anything in it; which I shall know when I go to +town, as I propose to do in about a fortnight; and as soon as I know it +you shall. To tell you truly what I think--I doubt, from all this NERVOUS +DISORDER that Lord C-----is hors de combat, as a Minister; but do not +ever hint this to anybody. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CC + +BATH, December 27, 1767. ‘En nova progenies’! + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The outlines of a new Ministry are now declared, but they +are not yet quite filled up; it was formed by the Duke of Bedford. Lord +Gower is made President of the Council, Lord Sandwich, Postmaster, Lord +Hillsborough, Secretary of State for America only, Mr. Rigby, +Vice-treasurer of Ireland. General Canway is to keep the seals a +fortnight longer, and then to surrender them to Lord Weymouth. It is very +uncertain whether the Duke of Grafton is to continue at the head of the +Treasury or not; but, in my private opinion, George Grenville will very +soon be there. Lord Chatham seems to be out of the question, and is at +his repurchased house at Hayes, where he will not see a mortal. It is yet +uncertain whether Lord Shelburne is to keep his place; if not, Lord +Sandwich they say is to succeed him. All the Rockingham people are +absolutely excluded. Many more changes must necessarily be, but no more +are yet declared. It seems to be a resolution taken by somebody that +Ministers are to be annual. + +Sir George Macartney is next week to be married to Lady Jane Stuart, Lord +Bute’s second daughter. + +I never knew it so cold in my life as it is now, and with a very deep +snow; by which, if it continues, I may be snow-bound here for God knows +how long, though I proposed leaving this place the latter end of the +week. + +Poor Harte is very ill here; he mentions you often, and with great +affection. God bless you! + +When I know more you shall. + + + + +LETTER CCCVI + +LONDON, January 29, 1768. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: Two days ago I received your letter of the 8th. I wish +you had gone a month or six weeks sooner to Basle, that you might have +escaped the excessive cold of the most severe winter that I believe was +ever known. It congealed both my body and my mind, and scarcely left me +the power of thinking. A great many here, both in town and country, have +perished by the frost, and been lost in the snow. + +You have heard, no doubt, of the changes at Court, by which you have got +a new provincial, Lord Weymouth; who has certainly good parts, and, as I +am informed, speaks very well in the House of Lords; but I believe he has +no application. Lord Chatham is at his house at Hayes; but sees no +mortal. Some say that he has a fit of the gout, which would probably do +him good; but many think that his worst complaint is in his head, which I +am afraid is too true. Were he well, I am sure he would realize the +promise he made me concerning you; but, however, in that uncertainty, I +am looking out for any chance borough; and if I can find one, I promise +you I will bid like a chapman for it, as I should be very sorry that you +were not in the next parliament. I do not see any probability of any +vacancy in a foreign commission in a better climate; Mr. Hamilton at +Naples, Sir Horace Mann at Florence, and George Pitt at Turin, do not +seem likely to make one. And as for changing your foreign department for +a domestic one, it would not be in my power to procure you one; and you +would become ‘d’eveque munier’, and gain nothing in point of climate, by +changing a bad one for another full as bad, if not worse; and a worse I +believe is not than ours. I have always had better health abroad than at +home; and if the tattered remnant of my wretched life were worth my care, +I would have been in the south of France long ago. I continue very lame +and weak, and despair of ever recovering any strength in my legs. I care +very little about it. At my age every man must have his share of physical +ills of one kind or another; and mine, thank God, are not very painful. +God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCCVII + +LONDON, March 12, 1768. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: The day after I received your letter of the 21st past, I +wrote to Lord Weymouth, as you desired; and I send you his answer +inclosed, from which (though I have not heard from him since) I take it +for granted, and so may you, that his silence signifies his Majesty’s +consent to your request. Your complicated complaints give me great +uneasiness, and the more, as I am convinced that the Montpellier +physicians have mistaken a material part of your case; as indeed all the +physicians here did, except Dr. Maty. In my opinion, you have no gout, +but a very scorbutic and rheumatic habit of body, which should be treated +in a very different manner from the gout; and, as I pretend to be a very +good quack at least, I would prescribe to you a strict milk diet, with +the seeds, such as rice, sago, barley, millet, etc., for the three summer +months at least, and without ever tasting wine. If climate signifies +anything (in which, by the way, I have very little faith), you are, in my +mind, in the finest climate in the world; neither too hot nor too cold, +and always clear; you are with the gayest people living; be gay with +them, and do not wear out your eyes with reading at home. ‘L’ennui’ is +the English distemper: and a very bad one it is, as I find by every day’s +experience; for my deafness deprives me of the only rational pleasure +that I can have at my age, which is society; so that I read my eyes out +every day, that I may not hang myself. + +You will not be in this parliament, at least not at the beginning of it. +I relied too much upon Lord C-----‘s promise above a year ago at Bath. He +desired that I would leave it to him; that he would make it his own +affair, and give it in charge to the Duke of G----, whose province it was +to make the parliamentary arrangement. This I depended upon, and I think +with reason; but, since that, Lord C has neither seen nor spoken to +anybody, and has been in the oddest way in the world. I have sent to the +D-----of G------, to know if L-----C----had either spoken or sent to him +about it; but he assured me that he had done neither; that all was full, +or rather running over, at present; but that, if he could crowd you in +upon a vacancy, he would do it with great pleasure. I am extremely sorry +for this accident; for I am of a very different opinion from you, about +being in parliament, as no man can be of consequence in this country, who +is not in it; and, though one may not speak like a Lord Mansfield or a +Lord Chatham, one may make a very good figure in a second rank. ‘Locus +est et pluribus umbris’. I do not pretend to give you any account of the +present state of this country, or Ministry, not knowing nor guessing it +myself. + +God bless you, and send you health, which is the first and greatest of +all blessings! + + + + +LETTER CCCVIII + +LONDON, March 15, 1768. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter is supplemental to my last. This morning +Lord Weymouth very civilly sent Mr. Wood, his first ‘commis’, to tell me +that the King very willingly gave you leave of absence from your post for +a year, for the recovery of your health; but then added, that as the +Court of Vienna was tampering with that of Saxony, which it seems our +Court is desirous to ‘contrequarrer’, it might be necessary to have in +the interim a ‘Charge d’Affaires’ at Dresden, with a defalcation out of +your appointments of forty shillings a-day, till your return, if I would +agree to it. I told him that I consented to both the proposals, upon +condition that at your return you should have the character and the pay +of Plenipotentiary added to your present character and pay; and that I +would completely make up to you the defalcation of the forty shillings +a-day. He positively engaged for it: and added, that he knew that it +would be willingly agreed to. Thus I think I have made a good bargain for +you, though but an indifferent one for myself: but that is what I never +minded in my life. You may, therefore, depend upon receiving from me the +full of this defalcation, when and how you please, independently of your +usual annual refreshment, which I will pay to Monsieur Larpent, whenever +you desire it. In the meantime, ‘Cura ut valeas’. + +The person whom Mr. Wood intimated to me would be the ‘Charge d’Affaires’ +during your absence, is one Mr. Keith, the son of that Mr. Keith who was +formerly Minister in Russia. + + + + +LETTER CCCIX + +LONDON, April 12, 1768. + +MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, yesterday, your letter of the 1st; in which +you do not mention the state of your health, which I desire you will do +for the future. + +I believe you have guessed the true reason of Mr. Keith’s mission; but by +a whisper that I have since heard, Keith is rather inclined to go to +Turin, as ‘Charge d’Affaires’. I forgot to tell you, in my last, that I +was almost positively assured that the instant you return to Dresden, +Keith should decamp. I am persuaded that they will keep their words with +me, as there is no one reason in the world why they should not. I will +send your annual to Mr. Larpent, in a fortnight, and pay the forty +shillings a-day quarterly, if there should be occasion; for, in my own +private opinion, there will be no ‘Charge d’Affaires’ sent. I agree with +you, that ‘point d’argent, point d’Allemand’, as was used to be said, and +not without more reason, of the Swiss; but, as we have neither the +inclination nor I fear the power to give subsidies, the Court of Vienna +can give good things that cost them nothing, as archbishoprics, +bishoprics, besides corrupting their ministers and favorite with places. + +Elections here have been carried to a degree of frenzy hitherto unheard +of; that for the town of Northampton has cost the contending parties at +least thirty thousand pounds a side, and-------------has sold his borough +of---------, to two members, for nine thousand pounds. As soon as Wilkes +had lost his election for the city, he set up for the county of +Middlesex, and carried it hollow, as the jockeys say. Here were great +mobs and riots upon that occasion, and most of the windows in town broke, +that had no lights for WILKES AND LIBERTY, who were thought to be +inseparable. He will appear, the 10th of this month, in the Court of +King’s Bench, to receive his sentence; and then great riots are again +expected, and probably will happen. God bless you! + + + + +LETTER CCCX + +BATH, October 17, 1768. + +MY DEAR FRIEND. Your last two letters, to myself and Grevenkop, have +alarmed me extremely; but I comfort myself a little, by hoping that you, +like all people who suffer, think yourself worse than you are. A dropsy +never comes so suddenly; and I flatter myself, that it is only that gouty +or rheumatic humor, which has plagued you so long, that has occasioned +the temporary swelling of your legs. Above forty years ago, after a +violent fever, my legs swelled as much as you describe yours to be; I +immediately thought that I had a dropsy; but the Faculty assured me, that +my complaint was only the effect of my fever, and would soon be cured; +and they said true. Pray let your amanuensis, whoever he may be, write an +account regularly once a-week, either to Grevenkop or myself, for that is +the same thing, of the state of your health. + +I sent you, in four successive letters, as much of the Duchess of +Somerset’s snuff as a letter could well convey to you. Have you received +all or any of them? and have they done you any good? Though, in your +present condition, you cannot go into company, I hope that you have some +acquaintances that come and sit with you; for if originally it was not +good for man to be alone, it is much worse for a sick man to be so; he +thinks too much of his distemper, and magnifies it. Some men of learning +among the ecclesiastics, I dare say, would be glad to sit with you; and +you could give them as good as they brought. + +Poor Harte, who is here still, is in a most miserable condition: he has +entirely lost the use of his left side, and can hardly speak +intelligibly. I was with him yesterday. He inquired after you with great +affection, and was in the utmost concern when I showed him your letter. + +My own health is as it has been ever since I was here last year. I am +neither well nor ill, but UNWELL. I have in a manner lost the use of my +legs; for though I can make a shift to crawl upon even ground for a +quarter of an hour, I cannot go up or down stairs, unless supported by a +servant. God bless you and grant you a speedy recovery! + + NOTE.--This is the last of the letters of Lord Chesterfield to his + son, Mr. Philip Stanhope, who died in November, 1768. The + unexpected and distressing intelligence was announced by the lady to + whom Mr. Stanhope had been married for several years, unknown to his + father. On learning that the widow had two sons, the issue of this + marriage, Lord Chesterfield took upon himself the maintenance of his + grandchildren. The letters which follow show how happily the writer + adapted himself to the trying situation. + + + + +LETTER CCCXI + +TO MRS. STANHOPE, THEN AT PARIS + +LONDON, March 16, 1769. + +MADAM: A troublesome and painful inflammation in my eyes obliges me to +use another hand than my own to acknowledge the receipt of your letter +from Avignon, of the 27th past. + +I am extremely surprised that Mrs. du Bouchet should have any objection +to the manner in which your late husband desired to be buried, and which +you, very properly, complied with. All I desire for my own burial is not +to be buried alive; but how or where, I think must be entirely +indifferent to every rational creature. + +I have no commission to trouble you with, during your stay at Paris; from +whence, I wish you and the boys a good journey home, where I shall be +very glad to see you all; and assure you of my being, with great truth, +your faithful, humble servant, +CHESTERFIELD. + + + + +LETTER CCCXII + +TO THE SAME, AT LONDON + +MADAM: The last time that I had the pleasure of seeing you, I was so +taken up in playing with the boys that I forgot their more important +affairs. How soon would you have them placed at school? When I know your +pleasure as to that, I will send to Monsieur Perny, to prepare everything +for their reception. In the meantime, I beg that you will equip them +thoroughly with clothes, linen, etc., all good, but plain; and give me +the account, which I will pay; for I do not intend that, from, this time +forward the two boys should cost you one shilling. I am, with great +truth, Madam, your faithful, humble servant, +CHESTERFIELD. + + + + +LETTER CCCXIII + +MADAM: As some day must be fixed for sending the boys to school, do you +approve of the 8th of next month? By which time the weather will probably +be warm and settled, and you will be able to equip them completely. + +I will upon that day send my coach to you, to carry you and the boys to +Loughborough House, with all their immense baggage. I must recommend to +you, when you leave them there, to suppress, as well as you can, the +overgrowings of maternal tenderness; which would grieve the poor boys the +more, and give them a terror of their new establishment. I am, with great +truth, Madam, your faithful, humble servant, +CHESTERFIELD. + + + + +LETTER CCCXIV + +BATH, October 11, 1769. + +MADAM: Nobody can be more willing and ready to obey orders than I am; but +then I must like the orders and the orderer. Your orders and yourself +come under this description; and therefore I must give you an account of +my arrival and existence, such as it is, here. I got hither last Sunday, +the day after I left London, less fatigued than I expected to have been; +and now crawl about this place upon my three legs, but am kept in +countenance by many of my fellow-crawlers; the last part of the Sphinx’s +riddle approaches, and I shall soon end, as I began, upon all fours. + +When you happen to see either Monsieur or Madame Perny, I beg you will +give them this melancholic proof of my caducity, and tell them that the +last time I went to see the boys, I carried the Michaelmas quarterage in +my pocket; and when I was there I totally forgot it; but assure them, +that I have not the least intention to bilk them, and will pay them +faithfully the two quarters together, at Christmas. + +I hope our two boys are well, for then I am sure you are so. I am, with +great truth and esteem, your most faithful, humble servant, +CHESTERFIELD. + + + + +LETTER CCCXV + +BATH, October 28, 1769. + +MADAM: Your kind anxiety for my health and life is more than, in my +opinion, they are both worth; without the former the latter is a burden; +and, indeed, I am very weary of it. I think I have got some benefit by +drinking these waters, and by bathing, for my old stiff, rheumatic limbs; +for, I believe, I could now outcrawl a snail, or perhaps even a tortoise. + +I hope the boys are well. Phil, I dare say, has been in some scrapes; but +he will get triumphantly out of them, by dint of strength and resolution. +I am, with great truth and esteem, your most faithful, humble servant, +CHESTERFIELD. + + + + +LETTER CCCXVI + +BATH, November 5, 1769. + +MADAM: I remember very well the paragraph which you quote from a letter +of mine to Mrs. du Bouchet, and see no reason yet to retract that +opinion, in general, which at least nineteen widows in twenty had +authorized. I had not then the pleasure of your acquaintance: I had seen +you but twice or thrice; and I had no reason to think that you would +deviate, as you have done, from other widows, so much as to put perpetual +shackles upon yourself, for the sake of your children. But (if I may use +a vulgarism) one swallow makes no summer: five righteous were formerly +necessary to save a city, and they could not be found; so, till I find +four more such righteous widows as yourself, I shall entertain my former +notions of widowhood in general. + +I can assure you that I drink here very soberly and cautiously, and at +the same time keep so cool a diet that I do not find the least symptom of +heat, much less of inflammation. By the way, I never had that complaint, +in consequence of having drank these waters; for I have had it but four +times, and always in the middle of summer. Mr. Hawkins is timorous, even +to minutia, and my sister delights in them. + +Charles will be a scholar, if you please; but our little Philip, without +being one, will be something or other as good, though I do not yet guess +what. I am not of the opinion generally entertained in this country, that +man lives by Greek and Latin alone; that is, by knowing a great many +words of two dead languages, which nobody living knows perfectly, and +which are of no use in the common intercourse of life. Useful knowledge +in my opinion consists of modern languages, history, and geography; some +Latin may be thrown into the bargain, in compliance with custom, and for +closet amusement. + +You are, by this time, certainly tired with this long letter, which I +could prove to you from Horace’s own words (for I am a scholar) to be a +bad one; he says, that water-drinkers can write nothing good: so I am, +with real truth and esteem, your most faithful, humble servant, +CHESTERFIELD. + + + + +LETTER CCCXVII + +BATH, October 9, 1770. + +MADAM: I am extremely obliged to you for the kind part which you take in +my health and life: as to the latter, I am as indifferent myself as any +other body can be; but as to the former, I confess care and anxiety, for +while I am to crawl upon this planet, I would willingly enjoy the health +at least of an insect. How far these waters will restore me to that, +moderate degree of health, which alone I aspire at, I have not yet given +them a fair trial, having drank them but one week; the only difference I +hitherto find is, that I sleep better than I did. + +I beg that you will neither give yourself, nor Mr. Fitzhugh, much trouble +about the pine plants; for as it is three years before they fruit, I +might as well, at my age, plant oaks, and hope to have the advantage of +their timber: however, somebody or other, God knows who, will eat them, +as somebody or other will fell and sell the oaks I planted five-and-forty +years ago. + +I hope our boys are well; my respects to them both. I am, with the +greatest truth, your faithful and humble servant, +CHESTERFIELD. + + + + +LETTER CCCXVIII + +BATH, November 4,1770 + +MADAM: The post has been more favorable to you than I intended it should, +for, upon my word, I answered your former letter the post after I had +received it. However you have got a loss, as we say sometimes in Ireland. + +My friends from time to time require bills of health from me in these +suspicious times, when the plague is busy in some parts of Europe. All I +can say, in answer to their kind inquiries, is, that I have not the +distemper properly called the plague; but that I have all the plague of +old age and of a shattered carcass. These waters have done me what little +good I expected from them; though by no means what I could have wished, +for I wished them to be ‘les eaux de Jouvence’. + +I had a letter, the other day, from our two boys; Charles’ was very +finely written, and Philip’s very prettily: they are perfectly well, and +say that they want nothing. What grown-up people will or can say as much? +I am, with the truest esteem, Madam, your most faithful servant. +CHESTERFIELD. + + + + +LETTER CCCXIX + +BATH, October 27,1771. + +MADAM: Upon my word, you interest yourself in the state of my existence +more than I do myself; for it is worth the care of neither of us. I +ordered my valet de chambre, according to your orders, to inform you of +my safe arrival here; to which I can add nothing, being neither better +nor worse than I was then. + +I am very glad that our boys are well. Pray give them the inclosed. + +I am not at all surprised at Mr.------‘s conversion, for he was, at +seventeen, the idol of old women, for his gravity, devotion, and +dullness. I am, Madam, your most faithful, humble servant, +CHESTERFIELD. + + + + +LETTER CCCXX + +TO CHARLES AND PHILIP STANHOPE + +I RECEIVED a few days ago two the best written letters that ever I saw in +my life; the one signed Charles Stanhope, the other Philip Stanhope. As +for you Charles, I did not wonder at it; for you will take pains, and are +a lover of letters; but you, idle rogue, you Phil, how came you to write +so well that one can almost say of you two, ‘et cantare pores et +respondre parati’! Charles will explain this Latin to you. + +I am told, Phil, that you have got a nickname at school, from your +intimacy with Master Strangeways; and that they call you Master +Strangeways; for to be rude, you are a strange boy. Is this true? + +Tell me what you would have me bring you both from hence, and I will +bring it you, when I come to town. In the meantime, God bless you both! + +CHESTERFIELD. + + + + + PG EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + + A little learning is a dangerous thing + A joker is near akin to a buffoon + A favor may make an enemy, and an injury may make a friend + Ablest man will sometimes do weak things + Above all things, avoid speaking of yourself + Above the frivolous as below the important and the secret + Above trifles, he is never vehement and eager about them + Absolute command of your temper + Abstain from learned ostentation + Absurd term of genteel and fashionable vices + Absurd romances of the two last centuries + According as their interest prompts them to wish + Acquainted with books, and an absolute stranger to men + Advice is seldom welcome + Advise those who do not speak elegantly, not to speak + Advocate, the friend, but not the bully of virtue + Affectation of singularity or superiority + Affectation in dress + Affectation of business + All have senses to be gratified + Always made the best of the best, and never made bad worse + Always does more than he says + Always some favorite word for the time being + Always look people in the face when you speak to them + Am still unwell; I cannot help it! + American Colonies + Ancients and Moderns + Anxiety for my health and life + Applauded often, without approving + Apt to make them think themselves more necessary than they are + Argumentative, polemical conversations + Arrogant pedant + Art of pleasing is the most necessary + As willing and as apt to be pleased as anybody + Ascribing the greatest actions to the most trifling causes + Assenting, but without being servile and abject + Assertion instead of argument + Assign the deepest motives for the most trifling actions + Assurance and intrepidity + At the first impulse of passion, be silent till you can be soft + Attacked by ridicule, and, punished with contempt + Attend to the objects of your expenses, but not to the sums + Attention to the inside of books + Attention and civility please all + Attention + Author is obscure and difficult in his own language + Authority + Avoid cacophony, and, what is very near as bad, monotony + Avoid singularity + Awkward address, ungraceful attitudes and actions + Be neither transported nor depressed by the accidents of life + Be silent till you can be soft + Being in the power of every man to hurt him + Being intelligible is now no longer the fashion + Better not to seem to understand, than to reply + Better refuse a favor gracefully, than to grant it clumsily + Blindness of the understanding is as much to be pitied + Bold, but with great seeming modesty + Boroughjobber + Business must be well, not affectedly dressed + Business now is to shine, not to weigh + Business by no means forbids pleasures + BUT OF THIS EVERY MAN WILL BELIEVE AS HE THINKS PROPER + Can hardly be said to see what they see + Cannot understand them, or will not desire to understand them + Cardinal Mazarin + Cardinal Richelieu + Cardinal de Retz + Cardinal Virtues, by first degrading them into weaknesses + Cautious how we draw inferences + Cease to love when you cease to be agreeable + Chameleon, be able to take every different hue + Characters, that never existed, are insipidly displayed + Cheerful in the countenance, but without laughing + Chitchat, useful to keep off improper and too serious subjects + Choose your pleasures for yourself + Civility, which is a disposition to accommodate and oblige others + Clamorers triumph + Close, without being costive + Command of our temper, and of our countenance + Commanding with dignity, you must serve up to it with diligence + Committing acts of hostility upon the Graces + Common sense (which, in truth, very uncommon) + Commonplace observations + Company is, in truth, a constant state of negotiation + Complaisance + Complaisance to every or anybody’s opinion + Complaisance due to the custom of the place + Complaisant indulgence for people’s weaknesses + Conceal all your learning carefully + Concealed what learning I had + Conjectures pass upon us for truths + Conjectures supply the defect of unattainable knowledge + Connections + Connive at knaves, and tolerate fools + Consciousness of merit makes a man of sense more modest + Consciousness and an honest pride of doing well + Consider things in the worst light, to show your skill + Contempt + Contempt + Contempt + Content yourself with mediocrity in nothing + Conversationstock being a joint and common property + Conversation will help you almost as much as books + Converse with his inferiors without insolence + Dance to those who pipe + Darkness visible + Decides peremptorily upon every subject + Deep learning is generally tainted with pedantry + Deepest learning, without goodbreeding, is unwelcome + Defended by arms, adorned by manners, and improved by laws + Deserve a little, and you shall have but a little + Desire to please, and that is the main point + Desirous of praise from the praiseworthy + Desirous to make you their friend + Desirous of pleasing + Despairs of ever being able to pay + Dexterity enough to conceal a truth without telling a lie + Dictate to them while you seem to be directed by them + Difference in everything between system and practice + Difficulties seem to them, impossibilities + Dignity to be kept up in pleasures, as well as in business + Disagreeable to seem reserved, and very dangerous not to be so + Disagreeable things may be done so agreeably as almost to oblige + Disputes with heat + Dissimulation is only to hide our own cards + Distinction between simulation and dissimulation + Distinguish between the useful and the curious + Do as you would be done by + Do not become a virtuoso of small wares + Do what you are about + Do what you will but do something all day long + Do as you would be done by + Do not mistake the tinsel of Tasso for the gold of Virgil + Does not give it you, but he inflicts it upon you + Doing, ‘de bonne grace’, what you could not help doing + Doing what may deserve to be written + Doing nothing, and might just as well be asleep + Doing anything that will deserve to be written + Done under concern and embarrassment, must be ill done + Dress like the reasonable people of your own age + Dress well, and not too well + Dressed as the generality of people of fashion are + Ears to hear, but not sense enough to judge + Easy without negligence + Easy without too much familiarity + Economist of your time + Either do not think, or do not love to think + Elegance in one language will reproduce itself in all + Employ your whole time, which few people do + Endeavor to hear, and know all opinions + Endeavors to please and oblige our fellowcreatures + Enemies as if they may one day become one’s friends + Enjoy all those advantages + Equally forbid insolent contempt, or low envy and jealousy + ERE TITTERING YOUTH SHALL SHOVE YOU FROM THE STAGE + Establishing a character of integrity and good manners + Even where you are sure, seem rather doubtful + Every numerous assembly is MOB + Every virtue, has its kindred vice or weakness + Every man knows that he understands religion and politics + Every numerous assembly is a mob + Every man pretends to common sense + EVERY DAY IS STILL BUT AS THE FIRST + Everybody is good for something + Everything has a better and a worse side + Exalt the gentle in woman and man__above the merely genteel + Expresses himself with more fire than elegance + Extremely weary of this silly world + Eyes and the ears are the only roads to the heart + Eyes and ears open and mouth mostly shut + Feed him, and feed upon him at the same time + Few things which people in general know less, than how to love + Few people know how to love, or how to hate + Few dare dissent from an established opinion + Fiddlefaddle stories, that carry no information along with them + Fit to live__or not live at all + Flattering people behind their backs + Flattery of women + Flattery + Flexibility of manners is necessary in the course of the world + Fools, who can never be undeceived + Fools never perceive where they are illtimed + Forge accusations against themselves + Forgive, but not approve, the bad. + Fortune stoops to the forward and the bold + Frank without indiscretion + Frank, but without indiscretion + Frank, open, and ingenuous exterior, with a prudent interior + Frequently make friends of enemies, and enemies of friends + Friendship upon very slight acquaintance + Frivolous, idle people, whose time hangs upon their own hands + Frivolous curiosity about trifles + Frivolous and superficial pertness + Fullbottomed wigs were contrived for his humpback + Gain the heart, or you gain nothing + Gain the affections as well as the esteem + Gainer by your misfortune + General conclusions from certain particular principles + Generosity often runs into profusion + Genteel without affectation + Gentlemen, who take such a fancy to you at first sight + Gentleness of manners, with firmness of mind + Geography and history are very imperfect separately + German, who has taken into his head that he understands French + Go to the bottom of things + Good manners + Good reasons alleged are seldom the true ones + Good manners are the settled medium of social life + Good company + Goodbreeding + Graces: Without us, all labor is vain + Gratitude not being universal, nor even common + Grave without the affectation of wisdom + Great learning; which, if not accompanied with sound judgment + Great numbers of people met together, animate each other + Greatest fools are the greatest liars + Grow wiser when it is too late + Guard against those who make the most court to you + Habit and prejudice + Habitual eloquence + Half done or half known + Hardened to the wants and distresses of mankind + Hardly any body good for every thing + Haste and hurry are very different things + Have no pleasures but your own + Have a will and an opinion of your own, and adhere to it + Have I employed my time, or have I squandered it? + Have but one set of jokes to live upon + Have you learned to carve? + He that is gentil doeth gentil deeds + He will find it out of himself without your endeavors + Heart has such an influence over the understanding + Helps only, not as guides + Herd of mankind can hardly be said to think + Historians + Holiday eloquence + Home, be it ever so homely + Honest error is to be pitied, not ridiculed + Honestest man loves himself best + Horace + How troublesome an old correspondent must be to a young one + How much you have to do; and how little time to do it in + Human nature is always the same + Hurt those they love by a mistaken indulgence + I hope, I wish, I doubt, and fear alternately + I shall never know, though all the coffeehouses here do. + I shall always love you as you shall deserve. + I know myself (no common piece of knowledge, let me tell you) + I CANNOT DO SUCH A THING + I, who am not apt to know anything that I do not know + Idleness is only the refuge of weak minds + If free from the guilt, be free from the suspicion, too + If you would convince others, seem open to conviction yourself + If I don’t mind his orders he won’t mind my draughts + If you will persuade, you must first please + If once we quarrel, I will never forgive + Ignorant of their natural rights, cherished their chains + Impertinent insult upon custom and fashion + Improve yourself with the old, divert yourself with the young + Inaction at your age is unpardonable + Inattention + Inattentive, absent; and distrait + Inclined to be fat, but I hope you will decline it + Incontinency of friendship among young fellows + Indiscriminate familiarity + Indiscriminately loading their memories with every part alike + Indolence + Indolently say that they cannot do + Infallibly to be gained by every sort of flattery + Information is, in a certain degree, mortifying + Information implies our previous ignorance; it must be sweetened + Injury is much sooner forgotten than an insult + Inquisition + Insinuates himself only into the esteem of fools + Insipid in his pleasures, as inefficient in everything else + Insist upon your neither piping nor fiddling yourself + Insolent civility + INTOLERATION in religious, and inhospitality in civil matters + Intrinsic, and not their imaginary value + It is a real inconvenience to anybody to be fat + It is not sufficient to deserve well; one must please well too + Jealous of being slighted + Jog on like man and wife; that is, seldom agreeing + Judge of every man’s truth by his degree of understanding + Judge them all by their merits, but not by their ages + Judges from the appearances of things, and not from the reality + Keep your own temper and artfully warm other people’s + Keep good company, and company above yourself + Kick him upstairs + King’s popularity is a better guard than their army + Know their real value, and how much they are generally overrated + Know the true value of time + Know, yourself and others + Knowing how much you have, and how little you want + Knowing any language imperfectly + Knowledge is like power in this respect + Knowledge: either despise it, or think that they have enough + Knowledge of a scholar with the manners of a courtier + Known people pretend to vices they had not + Knows what things are little, and what not + Labor is the unavoidable fatigue of a necessary journey + Labor more to put them in conceit with themselves + Last beautiful varnish, which raises the colors + Laughing, I must particularly warn you against it + Lay down a method for everything, and stick to it inviolably + Lazy mind, and the trifling, frivolous mind + Learn to keep your own secrets + Learn, if you can, the WHY and the WHEREFORE + Leave the company, at least as soon as he is wished out of it + Led, much oftener by little things than by great ones + Less one has to do, the less time one finds to do it in + Let me see more of you in your letters + Let them quietly enjoy their errors in taste + Let nobody discover that you do know your own value + Let nothing pass till you understand it + Let blockheads read what blockheads wrote + Life of ignorance is not only a very contemptible, but tiresome + Listlessness and indolence are always blameable + Little minds mistake little objects for great ones + Little failings and weaknesses + Loud laughter is the mirth of the mob + Love with him, who they think is the most in love with them + Loved without being despised, and feared without being hated + Low company, most falsely and impudently, call pleasure + Low buffoonery, or silly accidents, that always excite laughter + Luther’s disappointed avarice + Machiavel + Made him believe that the world was made for him + Make a great difference between companions and friends + Make himself whatever he pleases, except a good poet + Make yourself necessary + Make every man I met with like me, and every woman love me + Man is dishonored by not resenting an affront + Man or woman cannot resist an engaging exterior + Man of sense may be in haste, but can never be in a hurry + Man who is only good on holydays is good for very little + Mangles what he means to carve + Manner is full as important as the matter + Manner of doing things is often more important + Manners must adorn knowledge + Many things which seem extremely probable are not true + Many are very willing, and very few able + Mastery of one’s temper + May you live as long as you are fit to live, but no longer! + May you rather die before you cease to be fit to live + May not forget with ease what you have with difficulty learned + Mazarin and Lewis the Fourteenth riveted the shackles + Meditation and reflection + Mere reason and good sense is never to be talked to a mob + Merit and goodbreeding will make their way everywhere + Method + Mistimes or misplaces everything + Mitigating, engaging words do by no means weaken your argument + MOB: Understanding they have collectively none + Moderation with your enemies + Modesty is the only sure bait when you angle for praise + Money, the cause of much mischief + More people have ears to be tickled, than understandings to judge + More one sees, the less one either wonders or admires + More you know, the modester you should be + More one works, the more willing one is to work + Mortifying inferiority in knowledge, rank, fortune + Most people enjoy the inferiority of their best friends + Most long talkers single out some one unfortunate man in company + Most ignorant are, as usual, the boldest conjecturers + Most people have ears, but few have judgment; tickle those ears + Much sooner forgive an injustice than an insult + My own health varies, as usual, but never deviates into good + Mystical nonsense + Name that we leave behind at one place often gets before us + National honor and interest have been sacrificed to private + Necessity of scrupulously preserving the appearances + Neglect them in little things, they will leave you in great + Negligence of it implies an indifference about pleasing + Neither know nor care, (when I die) for I am very weary + Neither abilities or words enough to call a coach + Neither retail nor receive scandal willingly + Never would know anything that he had not a mind to know + Never read history without having maps + Never affect the character in which you have a mind to shine + Never implicitly adopt a character upon common fame + Never seek for wit; if it presents itself, well and good + Never to speak of yourself at all + Never slattern away one minute in idleness + Never quit a subject till you are thoroughly master of it + Never maintain an argument with heat and clamor + Never seem wiser, nor more learned, than the people you are with + Never saw a froward child mended by whipping + Never to trust implicitly to the informations of others + Nipped in the bud + No great regard for human testimony + No man is distrait with the man he fears, or the woman he loves + No one feels pleasure, who does not at the same time give it + Not tumble, but slide gently to the bottom of the hill of life + Not to communicate, prematurely, one’s hopes or one’s fears + Not only pure, but, like Caesar’s wife, unsuspected + Not make their want still worse by grieving and regretting them + Not making use of any one capital letter + Not to admire anything too much + Not one minute of the day in which you do nothing at all + Notes by which dances are now pricked down as well as tunes + Nothing in courts is exactly as it appears to be + Nothing much worth either desiring or fearing + Nothing so precious as time, and so irrecoverable when lost + Observe, without being thought an observer + Often more necessary to conceal contempt than resentment + Often necessary, not to manifest all one feels + Often necessary to seem ignorant of what one knows + Oftener led by their hearts than by their understandings + Old fellow ought to seem wise whether he really be so or not + One must often yield, in order to prevail + Only doing one thing at a time + Only because she will not, and not because she cannot + Only solid and lasting peace, between a man and his wife + Our understandings are generally the DUPES of our hearts + Our frivolous dissertations upon the weather, or upon whist + Out of livery; which makes them both impertinent and useless + Outward air of modesty to all he does + Overvalue what we do not know + Oysters, are only in season in the R months + Passes for a wit, though he hath certainly no uncommon share + Patience is the only way not to make bad worse + Patient toleration of certain airs of superiority + Pay your own reckoning, but do not treat the whole company + Pay them with compliments, but not with confidence + People never desire all till they have gotten a great deal + People lose a great deal of time by reading + People will repay, and with interest too, inattention + People angling for praise + People hate those who make them feel their own inferiority + Perfection of everything that is worth doing at all + Perseverance has surprising effects + Person to you whom I am very indifferent about, I mean myself + Pettish, pouting conduct is a great deal too young + Petty jury + Plain notions of right and wrong + Planted while young, that degree of knowledge now my refuge + Please all who are worth pleasing; offend none + Pleased to some degree by showing a desire to please + Pleased with him, by making them first pleased with themselves + Pleasing in company is the only way of being pleased in yourself + Pleasure and business with equal inattention + Pleasure is necessarily reciprocal + Pleasure is the rock which most young people split upon + Pleasures do not commonly last so long as life + Pocket all your knowledge with your watch + Polite, but without the troublesome forms and stiffness + POLITICIANS NEITHER LOVE NOR HATE + Prefer useful to frivolous conversations + Prejudices are our mistresses + Pride remembers it forever + Pride of being the first of the company + Prudent reserve + Public speaking + Put out your time, but to good interest + Quarrel with them when they are grown up, for being spoiled + Quietly cherished error, instead of seeking for truth + Read my eyes out every day, that I may not hang myself + Read with caution and distrust + Real merit of any kind will be discovered + Real friendship is a slow grower + Reason ought to direct the whole, but seldom does + Reason, which always ought to direct mankind, seldom does + Receive them with great civility, but with great incredulity + Reciprocally profess wishes which they seldom form + Recommend (pleasure) to you, like an Epicurean + Recommends selfconversation to all authors + Refuge of people who have neither wit nor invention of their own + Refuse more gracefully than other people could grant + Repeating + Represent, but do not pronounce + Reserve with your friends + Respect without timidity + Respectful without meanness, easy without too much familiarity + Return you the ball ‘a la volee’ + Rich man never borrows + Richelieu came and shackled the nation + Rochefoucault, who, I am afraid, paints man very exactly + Rochefoucault + Rough corners which mere nature has given to the smoothest + Ruined their own son by what they called loving him + Same coolness and unconcern in any and every company + Scandal: receiver is always thought, as bad as the thief + Scarce any flattery is too gross for them to swallow + Scarcely any body who is absolutely good for nothing + Scrupled no means to obtain his ends + Secret, without being dark and mysterious + Secrets + See what you see, and to hear what you hear + Seem to like and approve of everything at first + Seeming frankness with a real reserve + Seeming inattention to the person who is speaking to you + Seeming openness is prudent + Seems to have no opinion of his own + Seldom a misfortune to be childless + Selflove draws a thick veil between us and our faults + Sentimentmongers + Sentiments that were never felt, pompously described + Serious without being dull + Settled here for good, as it is called + Shakespeare + She has all the reading that a woman should have + She who conquers only catches a Tartar + She has uncommon, sense and knowledge for a woman + Shepherds and ministers are both men + Silence in love betrays more woe + Singularity is only pardonable in old age + Six, or at most seven hours sleep + Smile, where you cannot strike + Some complaisance and attention to fools is prudent + Some men pass their whole time in doing nothing + Something or other is to be got out of everybody + Something must be said, but that something must be nothing + Sooner forgive an injury than an insult + Sow jealousies among one’s enemies + Spare the persons while you lash the crimes + Speaking to himself in the glass + Stampact has proved a most pernicious measure + Stampduty, which our Colonists absolutely refuse to pay + State your difficulties, whenever you have any + Steady assurance, with seeming modesty + Studied and elaborate dress of the ugliest women in the world + Style is the dress of thoughts + Success turns much more upon manner than matter + Sure guide is, he who has often gone the road which you want to + Suspicion of age, no woman, let her be ever so old, ever forgive + Swearing + Tacitus + Take the hue of the company you are with + Take characters, as they do most things, upon trust + Take, rather than give, the tone of the company you are in + Take nothing for granted, upon the bare authority of the author + Taking up adventitious, proves their want of intrinsic merit + Talent of hating with goodbreeding and loving with prudence + Talk often, but never long + Talk sillily upon a subject of other people’s + Talk of natural affection is talking nonsense + Talking of either your own or other people’s domestic affairs + Tell me whom you live with, and I will tell you who you are + Tell stories very seldom + The longest life is too short for knowledge + The present moments are the only ones we are sure of + The best have something bad, and something little + The worst have something good, and sometimes something great + There are many avenues to every man + They thought I informed, because I pleased them + Thin veil of Modesty drawn before Vanity + Think to atone by zeal for their want of merit and importance + Think yourself less well than you are, in order to be quite so + Thinks himself much worse than he is + Thoroughly, not superficially + Those who remarkably affect any one virtue + Those whom you can make like themselves better + Three passions that often put honesty to most severe trials + Timidity and diffidence + To be heard with success, you must be heard with pleasure + To be pleased one must please + To govern mankind, one must not overrate them + To seem to have forgotten what one remembers + To know people’s real sentiments, I trust much more to my eyes + To great caution, you can join seeming frankness and openness + Too like, and too exact a picture of human nature + Trifle only with triflers; and be serious only with the serious + Trifles that concern you are not trifles to me + Trifling parts, with their little jargon + Trite jokes and loud laughter reduce him to a buffoon + Truth, but not the whole truth, must be the invariable principle + Truth leaves no room for compliments + Unaffected silence upon that subject is the only true medium + Unguarded frankness + Unintelligible to his readers, and sometimes to himself + Unopened, because one title in twenty has been omitted + Unwilling and forced; it will never please + Use palliatives when you contradict + Useful sometimes to see the things which one ought to avoid + Value of moments, when cast up, is immense + Vanity, interest, and absurdity, always display + Vanity, that source of many of our follies + Warm and young thanks, not old and cold ones + Waterdrinkers can write nothing good + We love to be pleased better than to be informed + We have many of those useful prejudices in this country + We shall be feared, if we do not show that we fear + Well dressed, not finely dressed + What pleases you in others, will in general please them in you + What displeases or pleases you in others + What you feel pleases you in them + What have I done today? + What is impossible, and what is only difficult + Whatever pleases you most in others + Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well + Whatever one must do, one should do ‘de bonne grace’ + Whatever real merit you have, other people will discover + When well dressed for the day think no more of it afterward + Where one would gain people, remember that nothing is little + Who takes warning by the fate of others? + Wife, very often heard indeed, but seldom minded + Will not so much as hint at our follies + Will pay very dear for the quarrels and ambition of a few + Wish you, my dear friend, as many happy new years as you deserve + Wit may created any admirers but makes few friends + Witty without satire or commonplace + Woman like her, who has always pleased, and often been pleased + Women are the only refiners of the merit of men + Women choose their favorites more by the ear + Women are all so far Machiavelians + Words are the dress of thoughts + World is taken by the outside of things + Would not tell what she did not know + Wrapped up and absorbed in their abstruse speculations + Writing anything that may deserve to be read + Writing what may deserve to be read + Wrongs are often forgiven; but contempt never is + Yielded commonly without conviction + You must be respectable, if you will be respected + You had much better hold your tongue than them + Young people are very apt to overrate both men and things + Young fellow ought to be wiser than he should seem to be + Young men are as apt to think themselves wise enough + Your merit and your manners can alone raise you + Your character there, whatever it is, will get before you here + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The PG Edition of Chesterfield’s +Letters to His Son, by The Earl of Chesterfield + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS TO HIS SON *** + +***** This file should be named 3361-0.txt or 3361-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/6/3361/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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