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 learnedthat the abbreviations O. S. And N. S. Relate to the difference betweenthe old Julian calender used in England and the Gregorian calender whichwas the standard in Europe. In the mid 18th century it is said that thisonce amounted to a difference of eleven days. To keep track of thechronology of letters back and forth from England to France or othercountries in mainland Europe, Chesterfield inserted in dates thedesignation O. S. (old style) and N. S. (new style). 

Chesterfield demonstrates his classical education by frequent words andsometimes entire paragraphs in various languages. In the 1901 text thesewere in italics; in this etext edition I have substituted singlequotation marks around these, as in 'bon mot', and not attempted toinclude the various accent marks of all the languages. 

Only obvious typographical errors have been corrected. The original andoccasionally variable spelling is retained throughout. D. W. 

SPECIAL INTRODUCTION

The proud Lord Chesterfield would have turned in his grave had he knownthat he was to go down to posterity as a teacher and preacher of thegospel of not grace, but--"the graces, the graces, the graces. " Naturalgifts, social status, open opportunities, and his ambition, all conspiredto destine him for high statesmanship. If anything was lacking in hisqualifications, he had the pluck and good sense to work hard andpersistently until the deficiency was made up. Something remainedlacking, and not all his consummate mastery of arts could conceal thatconspicuous want, --the want of heart. 

Teacher and preacher he assuredly is, and long will be, yet no thanks arehis due from a posterity of the common people whom he so sublimelydespised. 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 lowlyorigin should not betray itself. That individual was his, LordChesterfield's, illegitimate son, whose inferior blood should be giventhe true blue hue by concentrating upon him all the externals ofaristocratic education. 

Never had pupil so devoted, persistent, lavish, and brilliant a guide, philosopher, and friend, for the parental relation was shrewdly merged inthese. Never were devotion and uphill struggle against doubts of successmore bitterly repaid. Philip Stanhope was born in 1732, when his fatherwas thirty-eight. He absorbed readily enough the solids of the idealeducation supplied him, but, by perversity of fate, he cared not a figfor "the graces, the graces, the graces, " which his father so wiselydeemed by far the superior qualities to be cultivated by the buddingcourtier and statesman. A few years of minor services to his country wererendered, though Chesterfield was breaking his substitute for a heartbecause his son could not or would not play the superfine gentleman--onthe paternal model, and then came the news of his death, when onlythirty-six. What was a still greater shock to the lordly father, nowdeaf, gouty, fretful, and at outs with the world, his informant reportedthat she had been secretly married for several years to Young Hopeful, and was left penniless with two boys. Lord Chesterfield was above allthings a practical philosopher, as hard and as exquisitely rounded andpolished as a granite column. He accepted the vanishing of his lifelongdream with the admirable stolidity of a fatalist, and in those last daysof his radically artificial life he disclosed a welcome tenderness, atouch of the divine, none the less so for being common duty, shown in thefew brief letters to his son's widow and to "our boys. " This, and hisenviable gift of being able to view the downs as well as the ups of lifein the consoling humorous light, must modify the sterner judgment soeasily passed upon his characteristic inculcation, if not practice, ofheartlessness. 

The thirteenth-century mother church in the town from which LordChesterfield's title came has a peculiar steeple, graceful in its lines, but it points askew, from whatever quarter it is seen. The writer ofthese Letters, which he never dreamed would be published, is the bestself-portrayed Gentleman in literature. In everything he was naturally astylist, perfected by assiduous art, yet the graceful steeple is somehowwarped out of the beauty of the perpendicular. His ideal Gentleman is thefrigid product of a rigid mechanical drill, with the mien of a posturemaster, the skin-deep graciousness of a French Marechal, the calculatingadventurer who cuts unpretentious worthies to toady to society magnates, who affects the supercilious air of a shallow dandy and cherishes theheart of a frog. True, he repeatedly insists on the obligation oftruthfulness in all things, and of, honor in dealing with the world. HisGentleman may; nay, he must, sail with the stream, gamble in moderationif it is the fashion, must stoop to wear ridiculous clothes and ornamentsif they are the mode, though despising his weakness all to himself, andno true Gentleman could afford to keep out of the little gallantrieswhich so effectively advertised him as a man of spirit sad charm. Thoserepeated injunctions of honor are to be the rule, subject to theseexceptions, which transcend the common proprieties when the subject isthe rising young gentleman of the period and his goal social success. Ifan undercurrent of shady morality is traceable in this Chesterfieldianphilosophy it must, of course, be explained away by the less perfectmoral standard of his period as compared with that of our day. Whetherthis holds strictly true of men may be open to discussion, but hislordship's worldly instructions as to the utility of women asstepping-stones to favor in high places are equally at variance with theprinciples he so impressively inculcates and with modern conceptions ofsocial honor. The externals of good breeding cannot be over-estimated, ifhonestly come by, nor is it necessary to examine too deeply into theprime motives of those who urge them upon a generation in whose eyesmatter is more important than manner. Superficial refinement is betterthan none, but the Chesterfield pulpit cannot afford to shirk the duty ofproclaiming loud and far that the only courtesy worthy of respect is that'politesse de coeur, ' the politeness of the heart, which finds expressionin consideration for others as the ruling principle of conduct. Thismilitates to some extent against the assumption of fine airs without thebacking of fine behavior, and if it tends to discourage the effort to useothers for selfish ends, it nevertheless pays better in the long run. 

Chesterfield's frankness in so many confessions of sharp practice almostmerits his canonization as a minor saint of society. Dr. Johnson hasindeed placed him on a Simeon Stylites pillar, an immortality of penancefrom which no good member of the writers' guild is likely to pray hisdeliverance. He commends the fine art and high science of dissimulationwith the gusto of an apostle and the authority of an expert. Dissimulate, but do not simulate, disguise your real sentiments, but do not falsifythem. Go through the world with your eyes and ears open and mouth mostlyshut. When new or stale gossip is brought to you, never let on that youknow it already, nor that it really interests you. The reading of theseLetters is better than hearing the average comedy, in which the wit of asingle sentence of Chesterfield suffices to carry an act. Hisman-of-the-world philosophy is as old as the Proverbs of Solomon, butwill always be fresh and true, and enjoyable at any age, thanks to hispithy expression, his unfailing common sense, his sparkling wit andcharming humor. This latter gift shows in the seeming lapses from hisrigid rule requiring absolute elegance of expression at all times, whenan unexpected coarseness, in some provincial colloquialism, crops outwith picturesque force. The beau ideal of superfineness occasionallyenjoys the bliss of harking back to mother English. 

Above all the defects that can be charged against the Letters, thererises the substantial merit of an honest effort to exalt the gentle inwoman and man--above the merely genteel. "He that is gentil doeth gentildeeds, " runs the mediaeval saying which marks the distinction between thegenuine and the sham in behavior. A later age had it thus: "Handsome isas handsome does, " and in this larger sense we have agreed to accept themotto 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 toSchaffhausen, your lying upon straw, your black bread, and your broken'berline, ' are proper seasonings for the greater fatigues and distresseswhich you must expect in the course of your travels; and, if one had amind 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 youthrough; and in proportion as that is stronger or weaker, more or less inrepair, your journey will be better or worse; though at best you will nowand then find some bad roads, and some bad inns. Take care, therefore, tokeep that necessary 'voiture' in perfect good repair; examine, improve, and strengthen it every day: it is in the power, and ought to be thecare, of every man to do it; he that neglects it, deserves to feel, andcertainly 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 morequick-sighted as to your faults; those it is not only my right, but myduty to tell you of; and it is your duty and your interest to correctthem. In the strict scrutiny which I have made into you, I have (thankGod) hitherto not discovered any vice of the heart, or any peculiarweakness of the head: but I have discovered laziness, inattention, andindifference; faults which are only pardonable in old men, who, in thedecline of life, when health and spirits fail, have a kind of claim tothat 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. ' Youseem to want that 'vivida vis animi, ' which spurs and excites most youngmen to please, to shine, to excel. Without the desire and the painsnecessary to be considerable, depend upon it, you never can be so; as, without the desire and attention necessary to please, you never canplease. 'Nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia, ' is unquestionably true, with regard to everything except poetry; and I am very sure that any manof common understanding may, by proper culture, care, attention, andlabor, make himself whatever he pleases, except a good poet. Yourdestination is the great and busy world; your immediate object is theaffairs, the interests, and the history, the constitutions, the customs, and the manners of the several parts of Europe. In this, any man ofcommon sense may, by common application, be sure to excel. Ancient andmodern history are, by attention, easily attainable. Geography andchronology the same, none of them requiring any uncommon share of geniusor invention. Speaking and Writing, clearly, correctly, and with ease andgrace, are certainly to be acquired, by reading the best authors withcare, and by attention to the best living models. These are thequalifications more particularly necessary for you, in your department, which you may be possessed of, if you please; and which, I tell youfairly, I shall be very angry at you, if you are not; because, as youhave the means in your hands, it will be your own fault only. 

If care and application are necessary to the acquiring of thosequalifications, without which you can never be considerable, nor make afigure in the world, they are not less necessary with regard to thelesser accomplishments, which are requisite to make you agreeable andpleasing in society. In truth, whatever is worth doing at all, is worthdoing well; and nothing can be done well without attention: I thereforecarry the necessity of attention down to the lowest things, even todancing and dress. Custom has made dancing sometimes necessary for ayoung man; therefore mind it while you learn it that you may learn to doit well, and not be ridiculous, though in a ridiculous act. Dress is ofthe same nature; you must dress; therefore attend to it; not in order torival or to excel a fop in it, but in order to avoid singularity, andconsequently ridicule. Take great care always to be dressed like thereasonable people of your own age, in the place where you are; whosedress is never spoken of one way or another, as either too negligent ortoo much studied. 

What is commonly called an absent man, is commonly either a very weak, ora very affected man; but be he which he will, he is, I am sure, a verydisagreeable man in company. He fails in all the common offices ofcivility; he seems not to know those people to-day, whom yesterday heappeared to live in intimacy with. He takes no part in the generalconversation; 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 saidbefore) is a sure indication, either of a mind so weak that it is notable to bear above one object at a time; or so affected, that it would besupposed to be wholly engrossed by, and directed to, some very great andimportant objects. Sir Isaac Newton, Mr. Locke, and (it may be) five orsix more, since the creation of the world, may have had a right toabsence, from that intense thought which the things they wereinvestigating required. But if a young man, and a man of the world, whohas no such avocations to plead, will claim and exercise that right ofabsence in company, his pretended right should, in my mind, be turnedinto an involuntary absence, by his perpetual exclusion out of company. However frivolous a company may be, still, while you are among them, donot show them, by your inattention, that you think them so; but rathertake their tone, and conform in some degree to their weakness, instead ofmanifesting your contempt for them. There is nothing that people bearmore impatiently, or forgive less, than contempt; and an injury is muchsooner forgotten than an insult. If, therefore, you would rather pleasethan offend, rather be well than ill spoken of, rather be loved thanhated; remember to have that constant attention about you which flattersevery man's little vanity; and the want of which, by mortifying hispride, 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; sothat, 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 letthem come in his way, where you could prevent it, he would, in the firstcase, think himself insulted, and, in the second, slighted, and wouldremember both. Whereas your care to procure for him what he likes, and toremove from him what he hates, shows him that he is at least an object ofyour attention; flatters his vanity, and makes him possibly more yourfriend, than a more important service would have done. With regard towomen, attentions still below these are necessary, and, by the custom ofthe 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 theirsuccess, put me in mind of certain papers, which you have very lately, and I formerly, sent up to kites, along the string, which we calledmessengers; some of them the wind used to blow away, others were torn bythe string, and but few of them got up and stuck to the kite. But I willcontent myself now, as I did then, if some of my present messengers dobut stick to you. Adieu!

LETTER II

DEAR BOY: You are by this time (I suppose) quite settled and at home atLausanne; therefore pray let me know how you pass your time there, andwhat your studies, your amusements, and your acquaintances are. I take itfor granted, that you inform yourself daily of the nature of thegovernment and constitution of the Thirteen Cantons; and as I am ignorantof them myself, must apply to you for information. I know the names, butI 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 particularbusiness, department, or province of these several magistrates. But as Iimagine that there may be some, though, I believe, no essentialdifference, in the governments of the several Cantons, I would not giveyou the trouble of informing yourself of each of them; but confine myinquiries, 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 surewhether the Pays de Vaud, where you are, being a conquered country, andtaken from the Dukes of Savoy, in the year 1536, has the same share inthe government of the Canton, as the German part of it has. Pray informyourself 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 yourletters and some of Mr. Harte's have not reached me. Wherefore, for thefuture, 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 notreceived letters either from me or from Grevenkop was that we directedthem to Lausanne, where we thought you long ago: and we thought it to nopurpose to direct to you upon your ROUTE, where it was little likely thatour letters would meet with you. But you have, since your arrival atLausanne, I believe, found letters enough from me; and it may be morethan you have read, at least with attention. 

I am glad that you like Switzerland so well; and am impatient to hear howother 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 theyear 1746, appointed one of his Majesty's secretaries of state. ]--timeto write to you, either so much or so often as I used, while I was in aplace of much more leisure and profit; but my affection for you must notbe 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 theformer 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; withyours, for the good account which you gave me of what I desired to beinformed of. Pray continue to give me further information of the form ofgovernment of the country you are now in; which I hope you will know mostminutely before you leave it. The inequality of the town of Lausanneseems to be very convenient in this cold weather; because going up hilland down will keep you warm. You say there is a good deal of goodcompany; pray, are you got into it? Have you made acquaintances, and withwhom? 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; whichgave me the greatest pleasure that I have felt this great while; becauseit gives so very good an account of you. Among other things whichMonsieur Bochat says to your advantage, he mentions the tender uneasinessand concern that you showed during my illness, for which (though I willsay that you owe it to me) I am obliged to you: sentiments of gratitudenot being universal, nor even common. As your affection for me can onlyproceed from your experience and conviction of my fondness for you (forto talk of natural affection is talking nonsense), the only return Idesire is, what it is chiefly your interest to make me; I mean yourinvariable practice of virtue, and your indefatigable pursuit ofknowledge. Adieu! and be persuaded that I shall love you extremely, whileyou 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 postto Mr. Harte, yet I cannot send a packet to Lausanne without a word ortwo to yourself. I thank you for your letter of congratulation which youwrote me, notwithstanding the pain it gave you. The accident that causedthe pain was, I presume, owing to that degree of giddiness, of which Ihave 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 degreeinflicted upon me; and a certain concurrence of circumstances obliged meto engage in it. But I feel that to go through with it requires morestrength of body and mind than I have: were you three or four yearsolder; you should share in my trouble, and I would have taken you into myoffice; but I hope you will employ these three or four years so well asto make yourself capable of being of use to me, if I should continue init so long. The reading, writing, and speaking the modern languagescorrectly; the knowledge of the laws of nations, and the particularconstitution of the empire; of history, geography, and chronology, areabsolutely necessary to this business, for which I have always intendedyou. 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 putevery moment to, profit of some kind or other. I call company, walking, riding, etc. , employing one's time, and, upon proper occasions, veryusefully; but what I cannot forgive in anybody is sauntering, and doingnothing at all, with a thing so precious as time, and so irrecoverablewhen lost. 

Are you acquainted with any ladies at Lausanne? and do you behaveyourself 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, forwant of practice, we might forget; you will permit me to have the honorof assuring you of my respects in that language: and be so good to answerme in the same. Not that I am apprehensive of your forgetting to speakFrench: since it is probable that two-thirds of our daily prattle is inthat language; and because, if you leave off writing French, you mayperhaps neglect that grammatical purity, and accurate orthography, which, in other languages, you excel in; and really, even in French, it isbetter to write well than ill. However, as this is a language very properfor sprightly, gay subjects, I shall conform to that, and reserve thosewhich are serious for English. I shall not therefore mention to you, atpresent, your Greek or Latin, your study of the Law of Nature, or the Lawof Nations, the Rights of People, or of Individuals; but rather discussthe subject of your Amusements and Pleasures; for, to say the truth, onemust 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? arethey little agreeable suppers, at which cheerfulness and decency areunited? or, do you pay court to some fair one, who requires suchattentions as may be of use in contributing to polish you? Make me yourconfidant upon this subject; you shall not find a severe censor: on thecontrary, 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 leasttaste, only because they are called by that name. They often mistake sototally, as to imagine that debauchery is pleasure. You must allow thatdrunkenness, which is equally destructive to body and mind, is a finepleasure. Gaming, that draws you into a thousand scrapes, leaves youpenniless, and gives you the air and manners of an outrageous madman, isanother 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 totaldestruction of health, and, not unfrequently, the being run through thebody. 

These, you see, are all trifles; yet this is the catalogue of pleasuresof most of those young people, who never reflecting themselves, adopt, indiscriminately, what others choose to call by the seducing name ofpleasure. I am thoroughly persuaded you will not fall into such errors;and that, in the choice of your amusements, you will be directed byreason, and a discerning taste. The true pleasures of a gentleman arethose of the table, but within the bound of moderation; good company, that is to say, people of merit; moderate play, which amuses, without anyinterested views; and sprightly gallant conversations with women offashion and sense. 

These are the real pleasures of a gentleman; which occasion neithersickness, shame, nor repentance. Whatever exceeds them, becomes low vice, brutal passion, debauchery, and insanity of, mind; all of which, far fromgiving 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 wayor another; and I am now most agreeably affected, by two letters, which Ihave lately seen from Lausanne, upon your subject; the one from MadameSt. Germain, the other from Monsieur Pampigny: they both give so good anaccount of you, that I thought myself obliged, in justice both to themand, 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 areward and as an encouragement. They write, that you are not only'decrotte, ' but tolerably well-bred; and that the English crust ofawkward bashfulness, shyness, and roughness (of which, by the bye, youhad 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 andaddress, are of infinitely more advantage than they are generally thoughtto be, especially here in England. Virtue and learning, like gold, havetheir intrinsic value but if they are not polished, they certainly lose agreat deal of their luster; and even polished brass will pass upon morepeople than rough gold. What a number of sins does the cheerful, easygood-breeding of the French frequently cover? Many of them want commonsense, many more common learning; but in general, they make up so much bytheir manner, for those defects, that frequently they pass undiscovered:I have often said, and do think, that a Frenchman, who, with a fund ofvirtue, learning and good sense, has the manners and good-breeding of hiscountry, is the perfection of human nature. This perfection you may, ifyou please, and I hope you will, arrive at. You know what virtue is: youmay have it if you will; it is in every man's power; and miserable is theman who has it not. Good sense God has given you. Learning you alreadypossess enough of, to have, in a reasonable time, all that a man needhave. With this, you are thrown out early into the world, where it willbe your own fault if you do not acquire all, the other accomplishmentsnecessary to complete and adorn your character. You will do well to makeyour compliments to Madame St. Germain and Monsieur Pampigny; and tellthem, how sensible you are of their partiality to you, in theadvantageous testimonies which, you are informed, they have given of youhere. 

Adieu. Continue to deserve such testimonies; and then you will not onlydeserve, 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: theylaunch out with crowded sails in quest of it, but without a compass todirect their course, or reason sufficient to steer the vessel; for wantof which, pain and shame, instead of pleasure, are the returns of theirvoyage. Do not think that I mean to snarl at pleasure, like a Stoic, orto preach against it, like a parson; no, I mean to point it out, andrecommend it to you, like an Epicurean: I wish you a great deal; and myonly view is to hinder you from mistaking it. 

The character which most young men first aim at, is that of a man ofpleasure; but they generally take it upon trust; and instead ofconsulting their own taste and inclinations, they blindly adopt whateverthose with whom they chiefly converse, are pleased to call by the name ofpleasure; and a man of pleasure in the vulgar acceptation of that phrase, means only, a beastly drunkard, an abandoned whoremaster, and aprofligate swearer and curser. As it may be of use to you. I am notunwilling, though at the same time ashamed to own, that the vices of myyouth proceeded much more from my silly resolution of being, what I heardcalled a man of pleasure, than from my own inclinations. I alwaysnaturally hated drinking; and yet I have often drunk; with disgust at thetime, attended by great sickness the next day, only because I thenconsidered 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 nooccasion to play for it; but I thought play another necessary ingredientin the composition of a man of pleasure, and accordingly I plunged intoit without desire, at first; sacrificed a thousand real pleasures to it;and made myself solidly uneasy by it, for thirty the best years of mylife. 

I was even absurd enough, for a little while, to swear, by way ofadorning and completing the shining character which I affected; but thisfolly I soon laid aside, upon finding berth the guilt and the indecencyof it. 

Thus seduced by fashion, and blindly adopting nominal pleasures, I lostreal ones; and my fortune impaired, and my constitution shattered, are, Imust confess, the just punishment of my errors. 

Take warning then by them: choose your pleasures for yourself, and do notlet them be imposed upon you. Follow nature and not fashion: weigh thepresent enjoyment of your pleasures against the necessary consequences ofthem, and then let your own common sense determine your choice. 

Were I to begin the world again, with the experience which I now have ofit, I would lead a life of real, not of imaginary pleasures. I wouldenjoy the pleasures of the table, and of wine; but stop short of thepains inseparably annexed to an excess of either. I would not, at twentyyears, be a preaching missionary of abstemiousness and sobriety; and Ishould let other people do as they would, without formally andsententiously rebuking them for it; but I would be most firmly resolvednot to destroy my own faculties and constitution; in complaisance tothose 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 mixedcompanies, to amuse myself, and conform to custom; but I would take carenot 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, wouldoblige me to retrench in several other articles. Not to mention thequarrels which deep play commonly occasions. 

I would pass some of my time in reading, and the rest in the company ofpeople of sense and learning, and chiefly those above me; and I wouldfrequent the mixed companies of men and women of fashion, which, thoughoften 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 lastthirty years over again; they are rational ones; and, moreover, I willtell 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 thosewho only call themselves so. Does good company care to have a man reelingdrunk 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 whoremasterwith 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 ofgood company; and are most unwillingly, if ever, admitted into it. A realman of fashion and pleasures observes decency: at least neither borrowsnor affects vices: and if he unfortunately has any, he gratifies themwith choice, delicacy, and secrecy. 

I have not mentioned the pleasures of the mind (which are the solid andpermanent ones); because they do not come under the head of what peoplecommonly call pleasures; which they seem to confine to the senses. Thepleasure of virtue, of charity, and of learning is true and lastingpleasure; 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 othersuitable ornaments. The natural partiality of every author for his ownworks makes me very glad to hear that Mr. Harte has thought this lastedition 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 beLETTERED too. A showish binding attracts the eyes, and engages theattention of everybody; but with this difference, that women, and men whoare like women, mind the binding more than the book; whereas men of senseand learning immediately examine the inside; and if they find that itdoes not answer the finery on the outside, they throw it by with thegreater indignation and contempt. I hope that, when this edition of myworks 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, ifyou do not cooperate with him. The work will be imperfect. 

I thank you for your last information of our success in theMediterranean, and you say very rightly that a secretary of state oughtto 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, byfrequently looking at the map, you have all that theatre of the war veryperfect in your mind. 

I like your account of the salt works; which shows that you gave someattention while you were seeing them. But notwithstanding that, by youraccount, the Swiss salt is (I dare say) very good, yet I am apt tosuspect that it falls a little short of the true Attic salt in whichthere was a peculiar quickness and delicacy. That same Attic saltseasoned almost all Greece, except Boeotia, and a great deal of it wasexported afterward to Rome, where it was counterfeited by a compositioncalled Urbanity, which in some time was brought to very near theperfection of the original Attic salt. The more you are powdered withthese two kinds of salt, the better you will keep, and the more you willbe 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 doingwell, that I do from the informations I have lately received in yourfavor from Mr. Harte, I shall have little occasion to exhort or admonishyou any more to do what your own satisfaction and self love willsufficiently prompt you to. Mr. Harte tells me that you attend, that youapply to your studies; and that beginning to understand, you begin totaste them. This pleasure will increase, and keep pace with yourattention; so that the balance will be greatly to your advantage. You mayremember, that I have always earnestly recommended to you, to do what youare 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 atyour book all day long; far from it; I mean that you should have yourpleasures too; and that you should attend to them for the time; as muchas to your studies; and, if you do not attend equally to both, you willneither have improvement nor satisfaction from either. A man is fit forneither business nor pleasure, who either cannot, or does not, commandand 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, asupper, or a party of pleasure, a man were to be solving, in his ownmind, a problem in Euclid, he would be a very bad companion, and make avery poor figure in that company; or if, in studying a problem in hiscloset, he were to think of a minuet, I am apt to believe that he wouldmake a very poor mathematician. There is time enough for everything, inthe course of the day, if you do but one thing at once; but there is nottime enough in the year, if you will do two things at a time. ThePensionary de Witt, who was torn to pieces in the year 1672, did thewhole business of the Republic, and yet had time left to go to assembliesin the evening, and sup in company. Being asked how he could possiblyfind time to go through so much business, and yet amuse himself in theevenings as he did, he answered, there was nothing so easy; for that itwas only doing one thing at a time, and never putting off anything tillto-morrow that could be done to-day. This steady and undissipatedattention to one object is a sure mark of a superior genius; as hurry, bustle, and agitation are the never-failing symptoms of a weak andfrivolous mind. When you read Horace, attend to the justness of histhoughts, the happiness of his diction, and the beauty of his poetry; anddo not think of Puffendorf de Homine el Cive; and, when you are readingPuffendorf, 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 lossesin Germany; and I consent to his reimbursing you of the whole, now that Iknow you deserve it. I shall grudge you nothing, nor shall you wantanything that you desire, provided you deserve it; so that you see, it isin 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 PyreBonhours. 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 giveyou 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 inyour 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, ' tothank them for their parts. If the attention you met with pleased you, asI dare say it did, you will, I hope, draw this general conclusion fromit, that attention and civility please all those to whom they are paid;and that you will please others in proportion as you are attentive andcivil 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, ofthe Thirteen Cantons; but those books will be read no more, I presume, after you shall have published your account of that country. I hope youwill favor me with one of the first copies. To be serious; though I donot desire that you should immediately turn author, and oblige the worldwith your travels; yet, wherever you go, I would have you as curious andinquisitive as if you did intend to write them. I do not mean that youshould give yourself so much trouble, to know the number of houses, inhabitants, signposts, and tombstones, of every town that you gothrough; but that you should inform yourself, as well as your stay willpermit you, whether the town is free, or to whom it belongs, or in whatmanner: whether it has any peculiar privileges or customs; what trade ormanufactures; and such other particulars as people of sense desire toknow. And there would be no manner of harm if you were to takememorandums of such things in a paper book to help your memory. The onlyway of knowing all these things is to keep the best company, who can bestinform 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 findone from my sister, to thank you for the Arquebusade water which you senther; and which she takes very kindly. She would not show me her letter toyou; but told me that it contained good wishes and good advice; and, as Iknow she will show your letter in answer to hers, I send you hereinclosed the draught of the letter which I would have you write to her. Ihope you will not be offended at my offering you my assistance upon thisoccasion; because, I presume, that as yet, you are not much used to writeto ladies. 'A propos' of letter-writing, the best models that you canform yourself upon are, Cicero, Cardinal d'Ossat, Madame Sevigne, andComte Bussy Rebutin. Cicero's Epistles to Atticus, and to his familiarfriends, are the best examples that you can imitate, in the friendly andthe familiar style. The simplicity and the clearness of Cardinald'Ossat's letters show how letters of business ought to be written; noaffected turns, no attempts at wit, obscure or perplex his matter; whichis always plainly and clearly stated, as business always should be. Forgay and amusing letters, for 'enjouement and badinage, ' there are nonethat equal Comte Bussy's and Madame Sevigne's. They are so natural, thatthey 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; itwill 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, eitherfrom you or from Mr. Harte. I impute this to the rapidity of your travelsthrough Switzerland; which I suppose are by this time finished. 

You will have found by my late letters, both to you and Mr. Harte, thatyou are to be at Leipsig by next Michaelmas; where you will be lodged inthe 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, butattend to, and retain. I also expect that you make yourself perfectlymaster of the German language; which you may very soon do there, if youplease. I give you fair warning, that at Leipsig I shall have an hundredinvisible spies about you; and shall be exactly informed of everythingthat you do, and of almost everything that you say. I hope that, inconsequence of those minute informations, I may be able to say of you, what Velleius Paterculus says of Scipio; that in his whole life, 'nihilnon laudandum aut dixit, aut fecit, aut sensit. ' There is a great deal ofgood 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 courtkept there, by a Duchess Dowager of Courland; at which you should getintroduced. The King of Poland and his Court go likewise to the fair atLeipsig twice a year; and I shall write to Sir Charles Williams, theking's minister there, to have you presented, and introduced into goodcompany. But I must remind you, at the same time, that it will be to avery little purpose for you to frequent good company, if you do notconform 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 attendto your manners, so you must not neglect your person; but take care to bevery clean, well dressed, and genteel; to have no disagreeable attitudes, nor awkward tricks; which many people use themselves to, and then cannotleave them off. Do you take care to keep your teeth very clean, bywashing them constantly every morning, and after every meal? This is verynecessary, both to preserve your teeth a great while, and to save you agreat 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 nottoo well? Do you consider your air and manner of presenting yourselfenough, and not too much? Neither negligent nor stiff? All these thingsdeserve a degree of care, a second-rate attention; they give anadditional lustre to real merit. My Lord Bacon says, that a pleasingfigure is a perpetual letter of recommendation. It is certainly anagreeable forerunner of merit, and smoothes the way for it. 

Remember that I shall see you at Hanover next summer, and shall expectperfection; which if I do not meet with, or at least something very nearit, you and I shall, not be very well together. I shall dissect andanalyze you with a microscope; so that I shall discover the least speckor blemish. This is fair warning; therefore take your measuresaccordingly. Yours. 

LETTER XIII

LONDON, August 21, O. S. 1747. 

DEAR BOY: I reckon that this letter has but a bare chance of finding youat Lausanne; but I was resolved to risk it, as it is the last that Ishall write to you till you are settled at Leipsig. I sent you by thelast post, under cover to Mr. Harte, a letter of recommendation to one ofthe first people at Munich; which you will take care to present to him inthe politest manner; he will certainly have you presented to theelectoral family; and I hope you will go through that ceremony with greatrespect, good breeding, and ease. As this is the first court that everyou will have been at, take care to inform yourself if there be anyparticular, customs or forms to be observed, that you may not commit anymistake. At Vienna men always make courtesies, instead of bows, to theemperor; 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 everycourt has some peculiarity or other, of which those who go to them oughtpreviously to inform themselves, to avoid blunders and awkwardnesses. 

I have not time to say any more now, than to wish you good journey toLeipsig; 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 andsuperstition of the Papists at Einsiedlen, and at their absurd stories oftheir chapel. But remember, at the same time, that errors and mistakes, however gross, in matters of opinion, if they are sincere, are to bepitied, but not punished nor laughed at. The blindness of theunderstanding is as much to be pitied as the blindness of the eye; andthere 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 hismisfortune. Every man's reason is, and must be, his guide; and I may aswell expect that every man should be of my size and complexion, as thathe should reason just as I do. Every man seeks for truth; but God onlyknows who has found it. It is, therefore, as unjust to persecute, as itis absurd to ridicule, people for those several opinions, which theycannot help entertaining upon the conviction of their reason. It is theman who tells, or who acts a lie, that is guilty, and not he who honestlyand sincerely believes the lie. I really know nothing more criminal, moremean, and more ridiculous than lying. It is the production either ofmalice, cowardice, or vanity; and generally misses of its aim in everyone of these views; for lies are always detected sooner or later. If Itell 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 thegreatest sufferer myself at last; for as soon as ever I am detected (anddetected I most certainly shall be), I am blasted for the infamousattempt; and whatever is said afterward, to the disadvantage of thatperson, however true, passes for calumny. If I lie, or equivocate (for itis the same thing), in order to excuse myself for something that I havesaid or done, and to avoid the danger and the shame that I apprehend fromit, I discover at once my fear as well as my falsehood; and onlyincrease, instead of avoiding, the danger and the shame; I show myself tobe the lowest and the meanest of mankind, and am sure to be alwaystreated as such. Fear, instead of avoiding, invites danger; for concealedcowards will insult known ones. If one has had the misfortune to be inthe wrong, there is something noble in frankly owning it; it is the onlyway 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 practicesthem always deserves to be, and often will be kicked. There is anothersort of lies, inoffensive enough in themselves, but wonderfullyridiculous; I mean those lies which a mistaken vanity suggests, thatdefeat the very end for which they are calculated, and terminate in thehumiliation and confusion of their author, who is sure to be detected. These are chiefly narrative and historical lies, all intended to doinfinite honor to their author. He is always the hero of his ownromances; he has been in dangers from which nobody but himself everescaped; he has seen with his own eyes, whatever other people have heardor 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 universalcontempt and ridicule. Remember, then, as long as you live, that nothingbut strict truth can carry you through the world, with either yourconscience or your honor unwounded. It is not only your duty, but yourinterest; as a proof of which you may always observe, that the greatestfools are the greatest liars. For my own part, I judge of every man'struth by his degree of understanding. 

This letter will, I suppose, find you at Leipsig; where I expect andrequire from you attention and accuracy, in both which you have hithertobeen very deficient. Remember that I shall see you in the summer; shallexamine you most narrowly; and will never forget nor forgive thosefaults, which it has been in your own power to prevent or cure; and beassured 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 atolerably good landscape painter, and can present the several views ofSwitzerland to the curious. I am very glad of it, as it is a proof ofsome attention; but I hope you will be as good a portrait painter, whichis a much more noble science. By portraits, you will easily judge, thatI do not mean the outlines and the coloring of the human figure; but theinside of the heart and mind of man. This science requires moreattention, observation, and penetration, than the other; as indeed it isinfinitely more useful. Search, therefore, with the greatest care, intothe characters of those whom you converse with; endeavor to discovertheir predominant passions, their prevailing weaknesses, their vanities, their follies, and their humors, with all the right and wrong, wise andsilly springs of human actions, which make such inconsistent andwhimsical beings of us rational creatures. A moderate share ofpenetration, with great attention, will infallibly make these necessarydiscoveries. This is the true knowledge of the world; and the world isa country which nobody ever yet knew by description; one must travelthrough it one's self to be acquainted with it. The scholar, who in thedust of his closet talks or writes of the world, knows no more of it, than that orator did of war, who judiciously endeavored to instructHannibal in it. Courts and camps are the only places to learn the worldin. There alone all kinds of characters resort, and human nature is seenin all the various shapes and modes, which education, custom, and habitgive it; whereas, in all other places, one local mode generally prevails, and producing a seeming though not a real sameness of character. Forexample, one general mode distinguishes an university, another a tradingtown, a third a seaport town, and so on; whereas, at a capital, where thePrince or the Supreme Power resides, some of all these various modes areto be seen and seen in action too, exerting their utmost skill in pursuitof their several objects. Human nature is the same all over the world;but its operations are so varied by education and habit, that one mustsee 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 andhabits, they will take very different methods to gratify it. Civility, which is a disposition to accommodate and oblige others, is essentiallythe same in every country; but good-breeding, as it is called, which isthe manner of exerting that disposition, is different in almost everycountry, and merely local; and every man of sense imitates and conformsto that local good-breeding of the place which he is at. A conformityand flexibility of manners is necessary in the course of the world; thatis, with regard to all things which are not wrong in themselves. The'versatile ingenium' is the most useful of all. It can turn itselfinstantly from one object to another, assuming the proper manner foreach. It can be serious with the grave, cheerful with the gay, andtrifling with the frivolous. Endeavor by all means, to acquire thistalent, 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 sketchof yourself, drawn at Lausanne, while you were there, and sent over hereby a person who little thought that it would ever fall into my hands: andindeed 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 aboutthem; which makes them the easy prey and bubbles of the artful and theexperienced; they look upon every knave or fool, who tells them that heis their friend, to be really so; and pay that profession of simulatedfriendship, with an indiscreet and unbounded confidence, always to theirloss, often to their ruin. Beware, therefore, now that you are cominginto the world, of these preferred friendships. Receive them with greatcivility, but with great incredulity too; and pay them with compliments, but not with confidence. Do not let your vanity and self-love make yousuppose that people become your friends at first sight, or even upon ashort acquaintance. Real friendship is a slow grower and never thrivesunless engrafted upon a stock of known and reciprocal merit. There isanother kind of nominal friendship among young people, which is warm forthe time, but by good luck, of short duration. This friendship is hastilyproduced, by their being accidentally thrown together, and pursuing thecourse of riot and debauchery. A fine friendship, truly; and wellcemented by drunkenness and lewdness. It should rather be called aconspiracy against morals and good manners, and be punished as such bythe civil magistrate. However, they have the impudence and folly to callthis confederacy a friendship. They lend one another money, for badpurposes; they engage in quarrels, offensive and defensive for theiraccomplices; they tell one another all they know, and often more too, when, of a sudden, some accident disperses them, and they think no moreof each other, unless it be to betray and laugh, at their imprudentconfidence. Remember to make a great difference between companions andfriends; for a very complaisant and agreeable companion may, and oftendoes, prove a very improper and a very dangerous friend. People will, ina great degree, and not without reason, form their opinion of you, uponthat 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 WHOYOU ARE. One may fairly suppose, that the man who makes a knave or a foolhis friend, has something very bad to do or to conceal. But, at the sametime that you carefully decline the friendship of knaves and fools, if itcan be called friendship, there is no occasion to make either of themyour enemies, wantonly and unprovoked; for they are numerous bodies: andI, would rather choose a secure neutrality, than alliance, or war witheither 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 thenext dangerous thing to their friendship. Have a real reserve with almosteverybody; and have a seeming reserve with almost nobody; for it is verydisagreeable to seem reserved, and very dangerous not to be so. Fewpeople find the true medium; many are ridiculously mysterious andreserved upon trifles; and many imprudently communicative of all theyknow. 

The next thing to the choice of your friends, is the choice of yourcompany. Endeavor, as much as you can, to keep company with people aboveyou: there you rise, as much as you sink with people below you; for (as Ihave mentioned before) you are whatever the company you keep is. Do notmistake, when I say company above you, and think that I mean with regardto, their birth: that is the least consideration; but I mean with regardto 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 gayparts of life; the other consists of those who are distinguished by somepeculiar merit, or who excel in some particular and valuable art orscience. For my own part, I used to think myself in company as, muchabove me, when I was with Mr. Addison and Mr. Pope, as if I had been withall the princes in Europe. What I mean by low company, which should byall means be avoided, is the company of those, who, absolutelyinsignificant and contemptible in themselves, think they are honored bybeing in your company; and who flatter every vice and every folly youhave, in order to engage you to converse with them. The pride of beingthe first of the company is but too common; but it is very silly, andvery prejudicial. Nothing in the world lets down a character quicker thanthat wrong turn. 

You may possibly ask me, whether a man has it always in his power to getthe best company? and how? I say, Yes, he has, by deserving it; providinghe is but in circumstances which enable him to appear upon the footing ofa gentleman. Merit and good-breeding will make their way everywhere. Knowledge will introduce him, and good-breeding will endear him to thebest companies: for, as I have often told you, politeness andgood-breeding are absolutely necessary to adorn any, or all other goodqualities or talents. Without them, no knowledge, no perfection whatever, is seen in its best light. The scholar, without good-breeding, is apedant; the philosopher, a cynic; the soldier, a brute; and every mandisagreeable. 

I long to hear, from my several correspondents at Leipsig, of yourarrival there, and what impression you make on them at first; for I haveArguses, with an hundred eyes each, who will watch you narrowly, andrelate to me faithfully. My accounts will certainly be true; it dependsupon 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 avery difficult one to acquire. It can hardly be reduced to rules; andyour 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 thingin you will please others. If you are pleased with the complaisance andattention of others to your humors, your tastes, or your weaknesses, depend upon it the same complaisance and attention, on your part totheirs, will equally please them. Take the tone of the company that youare 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 duefrom every individual to the majority. Do not tell stories in company;there is nothing more tedious and disagreeable; if by chance you know avery short story, and exceedingly applicable to the present subject ofconversation, tell it in as few words as possible; and even then, throwout that you do not love to tell stories; but that the shortness of ittempted 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 tediousand impertinent to everybody else; besides that, one cannot keep one'sown private affairs too secret. Whatever you think your own excellenciesmay be, do not affectedly display them in company; nor labor, as manypeople do, to give that turn to the conversation, which may supply youwith an opportunity of exhibiting them. If they are real, they willinfallibly be discovered, without your pointing them out yourself, andwith much more advantage. Never maintain an argument with heat andclamor, though you think or know yourself to be in the right: but giveyour 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 goodhumor, "We shall hardly convince one another, nor is it necessary that weshould, 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 wellin one company, will seem flat and tedious, when related in another. Theparticular characters, the habits, the cant of one company, may givemerit to a word, or a gesture, which would have none at all if divestedof those accidental circumstances. Here people very commonly err; andfond of something that has entertained them in one company, and incertain circumstances, repeat it with emphasis in another, where it iseither insipid, or, it may be, offensive, by being ill-timed ormisplaced. Nay, they often do it with this silly preamble; "I will tellyou an excellent thing"; or, "I will tell you the best thing in theworld. " This raises expectations, which, when absolutely disappointed, make the relater of this excellent thing look, very deservedly, like afool. 

If you would particularly gain the affection and friendship of particularpeople, whether men or women, endeavor to find out the predominantexcellency, if they have one, and their prevailing weakness, whicheverybody has; and do justice to the one, and something more than justiceto the other. Men have various objects in which they may excel, or atleast would be thought to excel; and, though they love to hear justicedone to them, where they know that they excel, yet they are most and bestflattered upon those points where they wish to excel, and yet aredoubtful whether they do or not. As, for example, Cardinal Richelieu, whowas undoubtedly the ablest statesman of his time, or perhaps of anyother, had the idle vanity of being thought the best poet too; he enviedthe great Corneille his reputation, and ordered a criticism to be writtenupon the "Cid. " Those, therefore, who flattered skillfully, said littleto 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, thesmoke 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, anddistrustful as to the other. You will easily discover every man'sprevailing vanity, by observing his favorite topic of conversation; forevery man talks most of what he has most a mind to be thought to excelin. Touch him but there, and you touch him to the quick. The late SirRobert Walpole (who was certainly an able man) was little open toflattery upon that head; for he was in no doubt himself about it; but hisprevailing weakness was, to be thought to have a polite and happy turn togallantry; of which he had undoubtedly less than any man living: it washis favorite and frequent subject of conversation: which proved, to thosewho had any penetration, that it was his prevailing weakness. And theyapplied to it with success. 

Women have, in general, but one object, which is their beauty; uponwhich, scarce any flattery is too gross for them to swallow. Nature hashardly formed a woman ugly enough to be insensible to flattery upon herperson; if her face is so shocking, that she must in some degree, beconscious of it, her figure and her air, she trusts, make ample amendsfor it. If her figure is deformed, her face, she thinks, counterbalancesit. If they are both bad, she comforts herself that she has graces; acertain manner; a 'je ne sais quoi, ' still more engaging than beauty. This truth is evident, from the studied and elaborate dress of theugliest women in the world. An undoubted, uncontested, conscious beauty, is of all women, the least sensible of flattery upon that head; she knowsthat it is her due, and is therefore obliged to nobody for giving it her. She must be flattered upon her understanding; which, though she maypossibly 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 andcriminal flattery: no; flatter nobody's vices or crimes: on the contrary, abhor and discourage them. But there is no living in the world without acomplaisant indulgence for people's weaknesses, and innocent, thoughridiculous vanities. If a man has a mind to be thought wiser, and a womanhandsomer than they really are, their error is a comfortable one tothemselves, and an innocent one with regard to other people; and I wouldrather make them my friends, by indulging them in it, than my enemies, byendeavoring (and that to no purpose) to undeceive them. 

There are little attentions likewise, which are infinitely engaging, andwhich sensibly affect that degree of pride and self-love, which isinseparable from human nature; as they are unquestionable proofs of theregard and consideration which we have for the person to whom we paythem. As, for example, to observe the little habits, the likings, theantipathies, and the tastes of those whom we would gain; and then takecare to provide them with the one, and to secure them from the other;giving them, genteelly, to understand, that you had observed that theyliked 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 adish, a dislike to such a person, etc. , you had taken care to avoidpresenting them. Such attention to such trifles flatters self-love muchmore than greater things, as it makes people think themselves almost theonly objects of your thoughts and care. 

These are some of the arcana necessary for your initiation in the greatsociety of the world. I wish I had known them better at your age; I havepaid the price of three-and-fifty years for them, and shall not grudgeit, 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 sentme from Ratisbon. It shows me that you observe and inquire as you go, which is the true end of traveling. Those who travel heedlessly fromplace to place, observing only their distance from each other, andattending 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 theplaces which they go through, such as steeples, clocks, town-houses, etc. , get so little by their travels, that they might as well stay athome. But those who observe, and inquire into the situations, thestrength, the weakness, the trade, the manufactures, the government, andconstitution of every place they go to; who frequent the best companies, and attend to their several manners and characters; those alone travelwith advantage; and as they set out wise, return wiser. 

I would advise you always to get the shortest description or history ofevery place where you make any stay; and such a book, however imperfect, will still suggest to you matter for inquiry; upon which you may getbetter informations from the people of the place. For example; while youare at Leipsig, get some short account (and to be sure there are manysuch) of the present state of the town, with regard to its magistrates, its police, its privileges, etc. , and then inform yourself more minutelyupon all those heads in, conversation with the most intelligent people. Do the same thing afterward with regard to the Electorate of Saxony: youwill find a short history of it in Puffendorf's Introduction, which willgive you a general idea of it, and point out to you the proper objects ofa more minute inquiry. In short, be curious, attentive, inquisitive, asto everything; listlessness and indolence are always blameable, but, atyour age, they are unpardonable. Consider how precious, and how importantfor all the rest of your life, are your moments for these next three orfour years; and do not lose one of them. Do not think I mean that youshould study all day long; I am far from advising or desiring it: but Idesire that you would be doing something or other all day long; and notneglect half hours and quarters of hours, which, at the year's end, amount to a great sum. For instance, there are many short intervalsduring the day, between studies and pleasures: instead of sitting idleand yawning, in those intervals, take up any book, though ever sotrifling a one, even down to a jest-book; it is still better than doingnothing. 

Nor do I call pleasures idleness, or time lost, provided they are thepleasures of a rational being; on the contrary, a certain portion of yourtime, employed in those pleasures, is very usefully employed. Such arepublic spectacles, assemblies of good company, cheerful suppers, and evenballs; but then, these require attention, or else your time is quitelost. 

There are a great many people, who think themselves employed all day, andwho, if they were to cast up their accounts at night, would find thatthey had done just nothing. They have read two or three hoursmechanically, without attending to what they read, and consequentlywithout either retaining it, or reasoning upon it. From thence theysaunter into company, without taking any part in it, and withoutobserving the characters of the persons, or the subjects of theconversation; but are either thinking of some trifle, foreign to thepresent purpose, or often not thinking at all; which silly and idlesuspension of thought they would dignify with the name of ABSENCE andDISTRACTION. They go afterward, it may be, to the play, where they gapeat the company and the lights; but without minding the very thing theywent to, the play. 

Pray do you be as attentive to your pleasures as to your studies. In thelatter, observe and reflect upon all you read; and, in the former, bewatchful and attentive to all that you see and hear; and never have itto say, as a thousand fools do, of things that were said and done beforetheir faces, that, truly, they did not mind them, because they werethinking of something else. Why were they thinking of something else? andif they were, why did they come there? The truth is, that the fools werethinking of nothing. Remember the 'hoc age, ' do what you are about, bewhat it will; it is either worth doing well, or not at all. Wherever youare, have (as the low vulgar expression is) your ears and your eyes aboutyou. Listen to everything that is said, and see everything that is done. Observe the looks and countenances of those who speak, which is often asurer way of discovering the truth than from what they say. But then keepall those observations to yourself, for your own private use, and rarelycommunicate 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 togive you; it is at once the result of my long experience, and the effectof my tenderness for you. I can have no interest in it but yours. You arenot yet capable of wishing yourself half so well as I wish you; followtherefore, for a time at least, implicitly, advice which you cannotsuspect, though possibly you may not yet see the particular advantages ofit; 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 letterfrom you to acknowledge; I write to you, therefore, now, as usual, by wayof flapper, to put you in mind of yourself. Doctor Swift, in his accountof the island of Laputa, describes some philosophers there who were sowrapped up and absorbed in their abstruse speculations, that they wouldhave forgotten all the common and necessary duties of life, if they hadnot been reminded of them by persons who flapped them, whenever theyobserved them continue too long in any of those learned trances. I do notindeed suspect you of being absorbed in abstruse speculations; but, withgreat submission to you, may I not suspect that levity, inattention, andtoo little thinking, require a flapper, as well as too deep thinking? Ifmy letters should happen to get to you when you are sitting by the fireand doing nothing, or when you are gaping at the window, may they not bevery proper flaps, to put you in mind that you might employ your timemuch better? I knew once a very covetous, sordid fellow, who usedfrequently to say, "Take care of the pence; for the pounds will take careof themselves. " This was a just and sensible reflection in a miser. Irecommend to you to take care of the minutes; for hours will take care ofthemselves. I am very sure, that many people lose two or three hoursevery day, by not taking care of the minutes. Never think any portion oftime whatsoever too short to be employed; something or other may alwaysbe done in it. 

While you are in Germany, let all your historical studies be relative toGermany; not only the general history of the empire as a collective body;but the respective electorates, principalities, and towns; and also thegenealogy of the most considerable families. A genealogy is no trifle inGermany; and they would rather prove their two-and-thirty quarters, thantwo-and-thirty cardinal virtues, if there were so many. They are not ofUlysses' 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 isnot labor and paper lost. This entirely depends upon the degree of reasonand reflection which you are master of, or think proper to exert. If yougive yourself time to think, and have sense enough to think right, tworeflections must necessarily occur to you; the one is, that I have agreat deal of experience, and that you have none: the other is, that I amthe only man living who cannot have, directly or indirectly, any interestconcerning you, but your own. From which two undeniable principles, theobvious 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 greatknowledge, you alone are the gainer; I pay for it. If you should deserveeither 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 thelatter. You alone will be the gainer or the loser. 

Whatever your pleasures may be, I neither can nor shall envy you them, asold people are sometimes suspected by young people to do; and I shallonly 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 aresuch. As therefore, it is plain that I can have no other motive than thatof affection in whatever I say to you, you ought to look upon me as yourbest, and, for some years to come, your only friend. 

True friendship requires certain proportions of age and manners, and cannever subsist where they are extremely different, except in the relationsof parent and child, where affection on one side, and regard on theother, make up the difference. The friendship which you may contract withpeople of your own age may be sincere, may be warm; but must be, for sometime, reciprocally unprofitable, as there can be no experience on eitherside. 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 hasoften gone the road which you want to go. Let me be that guide; who havegone all roads, and who can consequently point out to you the best. Ifyou ask me why I went any of the bad roads myself, I will answer you verytruly, That it was for want of a good guide: ill example invited me oneway, 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 havetaken, and will continue to take with you, I should have avoided manyfollies and inconveniences, which undirected youth run me into. My fatherwas neither desirous nor able to advise me; which is what, I hope, youcannot 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 persuademyself, 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 ofyour stay there is the knowledge of books and sciences; which if you donot, by attention and application, make yourself master of while you arethere, you will be ignorant of them all the rest of your life; and, takemy word for it, a life of ignorance is not only a very contemptible, buta very tiresome one. Redouble your attention, then, to Mr. Harte, in yourprivate studies of the 'Literae Humaniores, ' especially Greek. State yourdifficulties, whenever you have any; and do not suppress them, eitherfrom mistaken shame, lazy indifference, or in order to have done thesooner. Do the same when you are at lectures with Professor Mascow, orany other professor; let nothing pass till you are sure that youunderstand it thoroughly; and accustom yourself to write down the capitalpoints of what you learn. When you have thus usefully employed yourmornings, you may, with a safe conscience, divert yourself in theevenings, and make those evenings very useful too, by passing them ingood company, and, by observation and attention, learning as much of theworld as Leipsig can teach you. You will observe and imitate the mannersof 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 ofthe place where you are, to which a man of sense always conforms. Thenature of things (as I have often told you) is always and everywhere thesame; but the modes of them vary more or less, in every country; and aneasy and genteel conformity to them, or rather the assuming of them atproper times, and in proper places, is what particularly constitutes aman 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, andpleasure by it; if you do not, I only lose 'operam et oleum, ' which, inall events, I do not grudge you. 

I send you, by a person who sets out this day for Leipsig, a small packetfrom your Mamma, containing some valuable things which you left behind, to which I have added, by way of new-year's gift, a very prettytooth-pick case; and, by the way, pray take great care of your teeth, andkeep them extremely clean. I have likewise sent you the Greek roots, lately translated into English from the French of the Port Royal. Informyourself what the Port Royal is. To conclude with a quibble: I hope youwill not only feed upon these Greek roots, but likewise digest themperfectly. Adieu. 

LETTER XXI

LONDON, December 15, O. S. 1747

DEAR Boy: There is nothing which I more wish that you should know, andwhich fewer people do know, than the true use and value of time. It is ineverybody's mouth; but in few people's practice. Every fool, whoslatterns away his whole time in nothings, utters, however, some tritecommonplace sentence, of which there are millions, to prove, at once, thevalue and the fleetness of time. The sun-dials, likewise all over Europe, have some ingenious inscription to that effect; so that nobody squandersaway their time, without hearing and seeing, daily, how necessary it isto employ it well, and how irrecoverable it is if lost. But all theseadmonitions are useless, where there is not a fund of good sense andreason to suggest them, rather than receive them. By the manner in whichyou now tell me that you employ your time, I flatter myself that you havethat 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 oftime; but I will only give you some hints with regard to the use of oneparticular period of that long time which, I hope, you have before you; Imean, the next two years. Remember, then, that whatever knowledge you donot solidly lay the foundation of before you are eighteen, you will neverbe the master of while you breathe. Knowledge is a comfortable andnecessary retreat and shelter for us in an advanced age; and if we do notplant it while young, it will give us no shade when we grow old. Ineither require nor expect from you great application to books, after youare once thrown out into the great world. I know it is impossible; and itmay even, in some cases, be improper; this, therefore, is your time, andyour only time, for unwearied and uninterrupted application. If youshould sometimes think it a little laborious, consider that labor is theunavoidable fatigue of a necessary journey. The more hours a day youtravel, the sooner you will be at your journey's end. The sooner you arequalified for your liberty, the sooner you shall have it; and yourmanumission will entirely depend upon the manner in which you employ theintermediate time. I think I offer you a very good bargain, when Ipromise you, upon my word, that if you will do everything that I wouldhave you do, till you are eighteen, I will do everything that you wouldhave me do ever afterward. 

I knew a gentleman, who was so good a manager of his time, that he wouldnot even lose that small portion of it, which the calls of nature obligedhim to pass in the necessary-house; but gradually went through all theLatin poets, in those moments. He bought, for example, a common editionof Horace, of which he tore off gradually a couple of pages, carried themwith him to that necessary place, read them first, and then sent themdown as a sacrifice to Cloacina: this was so much time fairly gained; andI recommend you to follow his example. It is better than only doing whatyou cannot help doing at those moments; and it will made any book, whichyou shall read in that manner, very present in your mind. Books ofscience, and of a grave sort, must be read with continuity; but there arevery many, and even very useful ones, which may be read with advantage bysnatches, and unconnectedly; such are all the good Latin poets, exceptVirgil in his "AEneid": and such are most of the modern poets, in whichyou will find many pieces worth reading, that will not take up aboveseven or eight minutes. Bayle's, Moreri's, and other dictionaries, areproper books to take and shut up for the little intervals of (otherwise)idle time, that everybody has in the course of the day, between eithertheir 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 thisletter is the effect of that 'scribendi cacoethes, ' which my fears, myhopes, and my doubts, concerning you give me. When I have wrote you avery long letter upon any subject, it is no sooner gone, but I think Ihave omitted something in it, which might be of use to you; and then Iprepare the supplement for the next post: or else some new subject occursto me, upon which I fancy I can give you some informations, or point outsome rules which may be advantageous to you. This sets me to writingagain, though God knows whether to any purpose or not; a few years morecan only ascertain that. But, whatever my success may be, my anxiety andmy care can only be the effects of that tender affection which I have foryou; and which you cannot represent to yourself greater than it reallyis. But do not mistake the nature of that affection, and think it of akind that you may with impunity abuse. It is not natural affection, therebeing in reality no such thing; for, if there were, some inward sentimentmust necessarily and reciprocally discover the parent to the child, andthe child to the parent, without any exterior indications, knowledge, oracquaintance whatsoever; which never happened since the creation of theworld, whatever poets, romance, and novel writers, and suchsentiment-mongers, may be pleased to say to the contrary. Neither is myaffection for you that of a mother, of which the only, or at least thechief 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 notdesire that you should live at all. My affection for you then is, andonly will be, proportioned to your merit; which is the only affectionthat one rational being ought to have for another. Hitherto I havediscovered nothing wrong in your heart, or your head: on the contrary Ithink I see sense in the one, and sentiments in the other. Thispersuasion is the only motive of my present affection; which will eitherincrease or diminish, according to your merit or demerit. If you have theknowledge, the honor, and probity, which you may have, the marks andwarmth of my affection shall amply reward them; but if you have them not, my aversion and indignation will rise in the same proportion; and, inthat case, remember, that I am under no further obligation, than to giveyou the necessary means of subsisting. If ever we quarrel, do not expector depend upon any weakness in my nature, for a reconciliation, aschildren frequently do, and often meet with, from silly parents; I haveno such weakness about me: and, as I will never quarrel with you but uponsome essential point; if once we quarrel, I will never forgive. But Ihope and believe, that this declaration (for it is no threat) will proveunnecessary. You are no stranger to the principles of virtue; and, surely, whoever knows virtue must love it. As for knowledge, you havealready enough of it, to engage you to acquire more. The ignorant only, either despise it, or think that they have enough: those who have themost are always the most desirous to have more, and know that the mostthey can have is, alas! but too little. 

Reconsider, from time to time, and retain the friendly advice which Isend 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 havemiscarried; for I have never been above two posts without writing to youor to Mr. Harte, and even very long letters. I have also received aletter from Mr. Harte, which gives me great satisfaction: it is full ofyour praises; and he answers for you, that, in two years more, you willdeserve your manumission, and be fit to go into the world, upon a footingthat will do you honor, and give me pleasure. 

I thank you for your offer of the new edition of 'Adamus Adami, ' but I donot want it, having a good edition of it at present. When you have readthat, you will do well to follow it with Pere Bougeant's 'Histoire duTraite de Munster, ' in two volumes quarto; which contains many importantanecdotes concerning that famous treaty, that are not in Adamus Adami. 

You tell me that your lectures upon the 'Jus Publicum' will be ended atEaster; but then I hope that Monsieur Mascow will begin them again; for Iwould not have you discontinue that study one day while you are atLeipsig. I suppose that Monsieur Mascow will likewise give you lecturesupon the 'Instrumentum Pacis, ' and upon the capitulations of the lateemperors. Your German will go on of course; and I take it for grantedthat your stay at Leipsig will make you a perfect master of thatlanguage, both as to speaking and writing; for remember, that knowing anylanguage imperfectly, is very little better than not knowing it at all:people being as unwilling to speak in a language which they do notpossess thoroughly, as others are to hear them. Your thoughts arecramped, and appear to great disadvantage, in any language of which youare not perfect master. Let modern history share part of your time, andthat 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 willpermit. The company of women of fashion will improve your manners, thoughnot your understanding; and that complaisance and politeness, which areso useful in men's company, can only be acquired in women's. 

Remember always, what I have told you a thousand times, that all thetalents in the world will want all their lustre, and some part of theiruse too, if they are not adorned with that easy good-breeding, thatengaging manner, and those graces, which seduce and prepossess people inyour favor at first sight. A proper care of your person is by no means tobe neglected; always extremely clean; upon proper occasions fine. Yourcarriage genteel, and your motions graceful. Take particular care of yourmanner and address, when you present yourself in company. Let them berespectful without meanness, easy without too much familiarity, genteelwithout 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 acquaintedwith; but I would now rather that your letters should be a sort ofjournal of your own life. As, for instance, what company you keep, whatnew acquaintances you make, what your pleasures are; with your ownreflections upon the whole: likewise what Greek and Latin books you readand 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; whichis so well employed from morning till night, that a fool would say youhad none left for yourself; whereas, I am sure you have sense enough toknow, 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 liveliestpeople in the world, and may want (as I easily conceive that they do) 'leton de la bonne campagnie, et les graces', which I wish you, yet praytake care not to express any contempt, or throw out any ridicule; which Ican 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; andsomething or other is to be got out of everybody. They will, at least, improve you in the German language; and, as they come from differentcountries, you may put them upon subjects, concerning which they mustnecessarily be able to give you some useful informations, let them beever so dull or disagreeable in general: they will know something, atleast, of the laws, customs, government, and considerable families oftheir respective countries; all which are better known than not, andconsequently worth inquiring into. There is hardly any body good forevery thing, and there is scarcely any body who is absolutely good fornothing. A good chemist will extract some spirit or other out of everysubstance; 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 asoften as ever your more necessary occupations will allow you. I am toldshe is extremely well bred, and has parts. Now, though I would notrecommend to you, to go into women's company in search of solidknowledge, or judgment, yet it has its use in other respects; for itcertainly polishes the manners, and gives 'une certaine tournure', whichis very necessary in the course of the world; and which Englishmen havegenerally less of than any people in the world. 

I cannot say that your suppers are luxurious, but you must own they aresolid; and a quart of soup, and two pounds of potatoes, will enable youto pass the night without great impatience for your breakfast nextmorning. One part of your supper (the potatoes) is the constant diet ofmy old friends and countrymen, --[Lord Chesterfield, from the time he wasappointed Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, 1775, used always to call the Irishhis countrymen. ]--the Irish, who are the healthiest and the strongestbodies of men that I know in Europe. 

As I believe that many of my letters to you and to Mr. Harte havemiscarried, as well as some of yours and his to me; particularly one ofhis from Leipsig, to which he refers in a subsequent one, and which Inever received; I would have you, for the future, acknowledge the datesof all the letters which either of you shall receive from me; and I willdo the same on my part. 

That which I received by the last mail, from you, was of the 25thNovember, N. S. ; the mail before that brought me yours, of which I haveforgot the date, but which inclosed one to Lady Chesterfield: she willanswer 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 willfrequently write you whatever passes here, in the German language andcharacter; 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 fornext year; and the more valuable you make it, the more thankful I shallbe. 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, andconsiderably enlarged and amended. 

Since you do not care to be an assessor of the imperial chamber, and thatyou desire an establishment in England; what do you think of being GreekProfessor at one of our universities? It is a very pretty sinecure, andrequires 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 knowwhat else to propose to you; and therefore desire that you will inform mewhat sort of destination you propose for yourself; for it is now time tofix it, and to take our measures accordingly. Mr. Harte tells me that youset up for a----------; if so, I presume it is in the view of succeedingme in my office;--[A secretary of state. ]--which I will very willinglyresign to you, whenever you shall call upon me for it. But, if you intendto be the--------, or the-----------, there are some triflingcircumstances upon which you should previously take your resolution. Thefirst of which is, to be fit for it: and then, in order to be so, makeyourself master of ancient and, modern history, and languages. To knowperfectly the constitution, and form of government of every nation; thegrowth and the decline of ancient and modern empires; and to trace outand reflect upon the causes of both. To know the strength, the riches, and the commerce of every country. These little things, trifling as theymay seem, are yet very necessary for a politician to know; and whichtherefore, I presume, you will condescend to apply yourself to. There aresome additional qualifications necessary, in the practical part ofbusiness, which may deserve some consideration in your leisure moments;such as, an absolute command of your temper, so as not to be provoked topassion, upon any account; patience, to hear frivolous, impertinent, andunreasonable applications; with address enough to refuse, withoutoffending, or, by your manner of granting, to double the obligation;dexterity enough to conceal a truth without telling a lie; sagacityenough to read other people's countenances; and serenity enough not tolet them discover anything by yours; a seeming frankness with a realreserve. These are the rudiments of a politician; the world must be yourgrammar. 

Three mails are now due from Holland; so that I have no letters from youto acknowledge. I therefore conclude with recommending myself to yourfavor 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 toyou and him, have been frozen up on their way to Leipsig; the thaw has, Isuppose, by this time, set them at liberty to pursue their journey toyou, and you will receive a glut of them at once. Hudibras alludes, inthis verse, "Like words congealed in northern air, "

to a vulgar notion, that in Greenland words were frozen in theirutterance; and that upon a thaw, a very mixed conversation was heard inthe air, of all those words set at liberty. This conversation was, Ipresume, too various and extensive to be much attended to: and may notthat be the case of half a dozen of my long letters, when you receivethem 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 youthe advice of a friend, who sincerely wishes your happiness, and desiresto promote your pleasure, you will both read and attend to them; but, ifyou consider them in their opposite, and very false light, as thedictates of a morose and sermonizing father, I am sure they will be notonly 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 itthe least. I hope that your want of experience, of which you must beconscious, will convince you, that you want advice; and that your goodsense will incline you to follow it. 

Tell me how you pass your leisure hours at Leipsig; I know you have notmany; 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 ofwhat 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 willrecommend two French books, which I have already mentioned; they willentertain you, and not without some use to your mind and your manners. One is, 'La Maniere de bien penser dans les Ouvrages d'Esprit', writtenby Pere Bouhours; I believe you read it once in England, with MonsieurCoderc; but I think that you will do well to read it again, as I know ofno book that will form your taste better. The other is, 'L'Art de plairedans la Conversation', by the Abbe de Bellegarde, and is by no meansuseless, though I will not pretend to say, that the art of pleasing canbe reduced to a receipt; if it could, I am sure that receipt would beworth purchasing at any price. Good sense, and good nature, are theprincipal ingredients; and your own observation, and the good advice ofothers, must give the right color and taste to it. Adieu! I shall alwayslove 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 butfrom a private man; for whom, at his time of life, quiet was as fit, andas necessary, as labor and activity are for you at your age, and for manyyears yet to come. I resigned the seals, last Saturday, to the King; whoparted 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 Ihave no thoughts of opposition, or meddling with business. 'Otium cumdignitate' is my object. The former I now enjoy; and I hope that myconduct and character entitle me to some share of the latter. In short, Iam now happy: and I found that I could not be so in my former publicsituation. 

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 moreregularly. My letters to you will be written, I am sure, by me, and, Ihope, 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 toyour advancement in it, at a proper time: on the contrary, it willpromote it; for, having nothing to ask for myself, I shall have thebetter title to ask for you. But you have still a surer way than this ofrising, and which is wholly in your own power. Make yourself necessary;which, with your natural parts, you may, by application, do. We are ingeneral, in England, ignorant of foreign affairs: and of the interests, views, pretensions, and policy of other courts. That part of knowledgenever enters into our thoughts, nor makes part of our education; forwhich reason, we have fewer proper subjects for foreign commissions, thanany other country in Europe; and, when foreign affairs happen to bedebated in Parliament, it is incredible with how much ignorance. Theharvest 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 theallotment of your time. Do but go on so, for two years longer, and I willask no more of you. Your labors will be their own reward; but if youdesire 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 andscoundrel gamesters. And the light in which, I am sure, you see allreasonable and decent people consider them, will be a good warning toyou. Adieu. 

LETTER XXVIII

LONDON, February 13, O. S. 1748

DEAR BOY: your last letter gave me a very satisfactory account of yourmanner of employing your time at Leipsig. Go on so but for two yearsmore, and, I promise you, that you will outgo all the people of your ageand time. I thank you for your explanation of the 'Schriftsassen', and'Amptsassen'; and pray let me know the meaning of the 'Landsassen'. I amvery willing that you should take a Saxon servant, who speaks nothing butGerman, which will be a sure way of keeping up your German, after youleave Germany. But then, I would neither have that man, nor him whom youhave already, put out of livery; which makes them both impertinent anduseless. I am sure, that as soon as you shall have taken the otherservant, your present man will press extremely to be out of livery, andvalet de chambre; which is as much as to say, that he will curl your hairand shave you, but not condescend to do anything else. I therefore adviseyou, never to have a servant out of livery; and, though you may notalways think proper to carry the servant who dresses you abroad in therain and dirt, behind a coach or before a chair, yet keep it in yourpower to do so, if you please, by keeping him in livery. 

I have seen Monsieur and Madame Flemming, who gave me a very good accountof you, and of your manners, which to tell you the plain truth, were whatI 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 theresignation of the seals. You shall hear from me more at large fromthence; 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, whereI arrived yesterday. My health, though not fundamentally bad yet, forwant of proper attention of late, wanted some repairs, which these watersnever 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 theload of business. I have given the description of the life that I proposeto lead for the future, in this motto, which I have put up in the frizeof 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 uninterruptedsatisfaction which I expect to find in that library, will be chieflyowing to my having employed some part of my life well at your age. I wishI had employed it better, and my satisfaction would now be complete; but, however, I planted while young, that degree of knowledge which is now myrefuge and my shelter. Make your plantations still more extensive; theywill more than pay you for your trouble. I do not regret the time that Ipassed in pleasures; they were seasonable; they were the pleasures ofyouth, and I enjoyed them while young. If I had not, I should probablyhave 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 aregenerally overrated. Nor do I regret the time that I have passed inbusiness, for the same reason; those who see only the outside of it, imagine it has hidden charms, which they pant after; and nothing butacquaintance can undeceive them. I, who have been behind the scenes, bothof pleasure and business, and have seen all the springs and pullies ofthose decorations which astonish and dazzle the audience, retire, notonly without regret, but with contentment and satisfaction. But what Ido, and ever shall regret, is the time which, while young, I lost in mereidleness, and in doing nothing. This is the common effect of theinconsideracy of youth, against which I beg you will be most carefullyupon your guard. The value of moments, when cast up, is immense, if wellemployed; if thrown away, their loss is irrecoverable. Every moment maybe 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 uninterruptedapplication to serious studies. No; pleasures are, at proper times, bothas necessary and as useful; they fashion and form you for the world; theyteach you characters, and show you the human heart in its unguardedminutes. But then remember to make that use of them. I have known manypeople, from laziness of mind, go through both pleasure and business withequal inattention; neither enjoying the one, nor doing the other;thinking themselves men of pleasure, because they were mingled with thosewho were, and men of business, because they had business to do, thoughthey did not do it. Whatever you do, do it to the purpose; do itthoroughly, not superficially. 'Approfondissez': go to the bottom ofthings. Any thing half done or half known, is, in my mind, neither donenor known at all. Nay worse, it often misleads. There is hardly any placeor any company, where you may not gain knowledge, if you please; almosteverybody 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. Seeeverything; 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 uponthe manner. As, for example, I AM AFRAID THAT I AM VERY TROUBLESOME WITHMY QUESTIONS; BUT NOBODY CAN INFORM ME SO WELL AS YOU; or something ofthat kind. 

Now that you are in a Lutheran country, go to their churches, and observethe manner of their public worship; attend to their ceremonies, andinquire the meaning and intention of everyone of them. And, as you willsoon understand German well enough, attend to their sermons, and observetheir 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 inEngland, or from voluntary contributions, or from pensions from thestate. Do the same thing when you are in Roman Catholic countries; go totheir churches, see all their ceremonies: ask the meaning of them, getthe terms explained to you. As, for instance, Prime, Tierce, Sexte, Nones, Matins, Angelus, High Mass, Vespers, Complines, etc. Informyourself of their several religious orders, their founders, their rules, their vows, their habits, their revenues, etc. But, when you frequentplaces of public worship, as I would have you go to all the differentones you meet with, remember, that however erroneous, they are none ofthem objects of laughter and ridicule. Honest error is to be pitied, notridiculed. The object of all the public worships in the world is thesame; it is that great eternal Being who created everything. Thedifferent manners of worship are by no means subjects of ridicule. Eachsect thinks its own is the best; and I know no infallible judge in thisworld, to decide which is the best. Make the same inquiries, wherever youare, concerning the revenues, the military establishment, the trade, thecommerce, and the police of every country. And you would do well to keepa blank paper book, which the Germans call an ALBUM; and there, insteadof 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 fromgood authorities. 

I had almost forgotten one thing, which I would recommend as an objectfor your curiosity and information, that is, the administration ofjustice; which, as it is always carried on in open court, you may, and Iwould have you, go and see it with attention and inquiry. 

I have now but one anxiety left, which is concerning you. I would haveyou be, what I know nobody is--perfect. As that is impossible, I wouldhave you as near perfection as possible. I know nobody in a fairer waytoward it than yourself, if you please. Never were so much pains takenfor anybody's education as for yours; and never had anybody thoseopportunities of knowledge and improvement which you, have had, and stillhave, I hope, I wish, I doubt, and fear alternately. This only I am sureof, that you will prove either the greatest pain or the greatest pleasureof, Yours. 

LETTER XXX

BATH, February 22, O. S. 1748. 

DEAR Boy: Every excellency, and every virtue, has its kindred vice orweakness; and if carried beyond certain bounds, sinks into one or theother. 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 ourvirtues, than for avoiding their opposite vices. Vice, in its true light, is so deformed, that it shocks us at first sight, and would hardly everseduce us, if it did not, at first, wear the mask of some virtue. Butvirtue is, in itself, so beautiful, that it charms us at first sight;engages us more and more upon further acquaintance; and, as with otherbeauties, we think excess impossible; it is here that judgment isnecessary, to moderate and direct the effects of an excellent cause. Ishall apply this reasoning, at present, not to any particular virtue, butto an excellency, which, for want of judgment, is often the cause ofridiculous and blamable effects; I mean, great learning; which, if notaccompanied with sound judgment, frequently carries us into error, pride, and pedantry. As, I hope, you will possess that excellency in its utmostextent, and yet without its too common failings, the hints, which myexperience can suggest, may probably not be useless to you. 

Some learned men, proud of their knowledge, only speak to decide, andgive judgment without appeal; the consequence of which is, that mankind, provoked by the insult, and injured by the oppression, revolt; and, inorder to shake off the tyranny, even call the lawful authority inquestion. 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 youare sure, seem rather doubtful; represent, but do not pronounce, and, ifyou would convince others, seem open to conviction yourself. 

Others, to show their learning, or often from the prejudices of a schooleducation, where they hear of nothing else, are always talking of theancients, as something more than men, and of the moderns, as somethingless. They are never without a classic or two in their pockets; theystick to the old good sense; they read none of the modern trash; and willshow you, plainly, that no improvement has been made, in any one art orscience, these last seventeen hundred years. I would by no means have youdisown your acquaintance with the ancients: but still less would I haveyou brag of an exclusive intimacy with them. Speak of the moderns withoutcontempt, and of the ancients without idolatry; judge them all by theirmerits, but not by their ages; and if you happen to have an Elzevirclassic in your pocket neither show it nor mention it. 

Some great scholars, most absurdly, draw all their maxims, both forpublic and private life, from what they call parallel cases in theancient authors; without considering, that, in the first place, therenever were, since the creation of the world, two cases exactly parallel;and, in the next place, that there never was a case stated, or evenknown, by any historian, with every one of its circumstances; which, however, ought to be known, in order to be reasoned from. Reason upon thecase itself, and the several circumstances that attend it, and actaccordingly; 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 prejudicedby our education, that, as the ancients deified their heroes, we deifytheir madmen; of which, with all due regard for antiquity, I takeLeonidas and Curtius to have been two distinguished ones. And yet a solidpedant would, in a speech in parliament, relative to a tax of two pencein the pound upon some community or other, quote those two heroes, asexamples of what we ought to do and suffer for our country. I have knownthese absurdities carried so far by people of injudicious learning, thatI should not be surprised, if some of them were to propose, while we areat war with the Gauls, that a number of geese should be kept in theTower, upon account of the infinite advantage which Rome received IN APARALLEL CASE, from a certain number of geese in the Capitol. This way ofreasoning, 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 andsupercilious, are not less impertinent. These are the communicative andshining pedants, who adorn their conversation, even with women, by happyquotations of Greek and Latin; and who have contracted such a familiaritywith the Greek and Roman authors, that they, call them by certain namesor epithets denoting intimacy. As OLD Homer; that SLY ROGUE Horace; MARO, instead of Virgil; and Naso, Instead of Ovid. These are often imitated bycoxcombs, who have no learning at all; but who have got some names andsome scraps of ancient authors by heart, which they improperly andimpertinently retail in all companies, in hopes of passing for scholars. If, therefore, you would avoid the accusation of pedantry on one hand, orthe suspicion of ignorance on the other, abstain from learnedostentation. Speak the language of the company that you are in; speak itpurely, and unlarded with any other. Never seem wiser, nor more learned, than the people you are with. Wear your learning, like your watch, in aprivate pocket: and do not pull it out and strike it; merely to show thatyou have one. If you are asked what o'clock it is, tell it; but do notproclaim 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 bemaster of; but, at the same time most carefully avoid those errors andabuses 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 ofEurope; though I would have you well acquainted with both. 

I have this moment received your letter of the 17th, N. S. Though, Iconfess, there is no great variety in your present manner of life, yetmaterials can never be wanting for a letter; you see, you hear, or youread something new every day; a short account of which, with your ownreflections thereupon, will make out a letter very well. But, since youdesire a subject, pray send me an account of the Lutheran establishmentin Germany; their religious tenets, their church government, themaintenance, authority, and titles of their clergy. 

'Vittorio Siri', complete, is a very scarce and very dear book here; butI do not want it. If your own library grows too voluminous, you will notknow 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 thebooks 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 anyletters from me; but by this time, I daresay you think you have receivedenough, and possibly more than you have read; for I am not only afrequent, but a prolix correspondent. 

Mr. Harte says, in that letter, that he looks upon Professor Mascow to beone of the ablest men in Europe, in treaty and political knowledge. I amextremely glad of it; for that is what I would have you particularlyapply to, and make yourself perfect master of. The treaty part you mustchiefly acquire by reading the treaties themselves, and the histories andmemoirs relative to them; not but that inquiries and conversations uponthose treaties will help you greatly, and imprint them better in yourmind. In this course of reading, do not perplex yourself, at first, bythe multitude of insignificant treaties which are to be found in theCorps Diplomatique; but stick to the material ones, which altered thestate of Europe, and made a new arrangement among the great powers; suchas the treaties of Munster, Nimeguen, Ryswick, and Utrecht. 

But there is one part of political knowledge, which is only to be had byinquiry and conversation; that is, the present state of every power inEurope, with regard to the three important points, of strength, revenue, and commerce. You will, therefore, do well, while you are in Germany, toinform yourself carefully of the military force, the revenues, and thecommerce of every prince and state of the empire; and to write down thoseinformations in a little book, for that particular purpose. To give you aspecimen 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 everystate in Germany if you will but prefer useful to frivolousconversations. 

There are many princes in Germany, who keep very few or no troops, unlessupon the approach of danger, or for the sake of profit, by letting themout for subsidies, to great powers: In that case, you will informyourself what number of troops they could raise, either for their owndefense, or furnish to other powers for subsidies. 

There is very little trouble, and an infinite use, in acquiring of thisknowledge. It seems to me even to be a more entertaining subject to talkupon, than 'la pluie et le beau tens'. 

Though I am sensible that these things cannot be known with the utmostexactness, 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 anywhereelse in the electorate. Are the regular Romish clergy allowed; and havethey any convents?

Are there any military orders in Saxony, and what? Is the White Eagle aSaxon 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 oftenrecommended to you, and of what you cannot attend to too much; SACRIFICETO THE GRACES. The different effects of the same things, said or done, when accompanied or abandoned by them, is almost inconceivable. Theyprepare the way to the heart; and the heart has such an influence overthe 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 somuch to say, even with men, and the ablest men too, that it commonlytriumphs in every struggle with the understanding. Monsieur deRochefoucault, in his "Maxims, " says, that 'l'esprit est souvent la dupedu coeur. ' If he had said, instead of 'souvent, tresque toujours', I fearhe would have been nearer the truth. This being the case, aim at theheart. Intrinsic merit alone will not do; it will gain you the generalesteem of all; but not the particular affection, that is, the heart ofany. To engage the affections of any particular person, you must, overand above your general merit, have some particular merit to that personby services done, or offered; by expressions of regard and esteem; bycomplaisance, attentions, etc. , for him. And the graceful manner of doingall these things opens the way to the heart, and facilitates, or ratherinsures, their effects. From your own observation, reflect what adisagreeable impression an awkward address, a slovenly figure, anungraceful manner of speaking, whether stuttering, muttering, monotony, or drawling, an unattentive behavior, etc. , make upon you, at firstsight, in a stranger, and how they prejudice you against him, though foraught you know, he may have great intrinsic sense and merit. And reflect, on the other hand, how much the opposites of all these things prepossessyou, at first sight, in favor of those who enjoy them. You wish to findall good qualities in them, and are in some degree disappointed if you donot. A thousand little things, not separately to be defined, conspire toform these graces, this je ne sais quoi, that always please. A prettyperson, genteel motions, a proper degree of dress, an harmonious voice, something open and cheerful in the countenance, but without laughing; adistinct and properly varied manner of speaking: All these things, andmany others, are necessary ingredients in the composition of the pleasingje ne sais quoi, which everybody feels, though nobody can describe. Observe carefully, then, what displeases or pleases you in others, and bepersuaded, that in general; the same things will please or displease themin you. Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you againstit: and I could heartily wish, that you may often be seen to smile, butnever heard to laugh while you live. Frequent and loud laughter is thecharacteristic of folly and in manners; it is the manner in which the mobexpress their silly joy at silly things; and they call it being merry. Inmy mind, there is nothing so illiberal, and so ill-bred, as audiblelaughter. True wit, or sense, never yet made anybody laugh; they areabove it: They please the mind, and give a cheerfulness to thecountenance. But it is low buffoonery, or silly accidents, that alwaysexcite laughter; and that is what people of sense and breeding shouldshow themselves above. A man's going to sit down, in the supposition thathe has a chair behind him, and falling down upon his breech for want ofone, sets a whole company a laughing, when all the wit in the world wouldnot do it; a plain proof, in my mind, how low and unbecoming a thinglaughter is: not to mention the disagreeable noise that it makes, and theshocking distortion of the face that it occasions. Laughter is easilyrestrained, by a very little reflection; but as it is generally connectedwith the idea of gaiety, people do not enough attend to its absurdity. Iam neither of a melancholy nor a cynical disposition, and am as willingand as apt to be pleased as anybody; but I am sure that, since I have hadthe full use of my reason, nobody has ever heard me laugh. Many people, at first, from awkwardness and 'mauvaise honte', have got a verydisagreeable and silly trick of laughing whenever they speak; and I knowa man of very good parts, Mr. Waller, who cannot say the commonest thingwithout laughing; which makes those, who do not know him, take him atfirst for a natural fool. This, and many other very disagreeable habits, are owing to mauvaise honte at their first setting out in the world. Theyare ashamed in company, and so disconcerted, that they do not know whatthey do, and try a thousand tricks to keep themselves in countenance;which tricks afterward grow habitual to them. Some put their fingers intheir nose, others scratch their heads, others twirl their hats; inshort, every awkward, ill-bred body has his trick. But the frequency doesnot justify the thing, and all these vulgar habits and awkwardnesses, though not criminal indeed, are most carefully to be guarded against, asthey are great bars in the way of the art of pleasing. Remember, that toplease is almost to prevail, or at least a necessary previous step to it. You, who have your fortune to make, should more particularly study thisart. You had not, I must tell you, when you left England, 'les manieresprevenantes'; and I must confess they are not very common in England; butI hope that your good sense will make you acquire them abroad. If youdesire to make yourself considerable in the world (as, if you have anyspirit, you do), it must be entirely your own doing; for I may verypossibly be out of the world at the time you come into it. Your own rankand fortune will not assist you; your merit and your manners can aloneraise you to figure and fortune. I have laid the foundations of them, bythe education which I have given you; but you must build thesuperstructure 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 hightreason, without bringing them first to their trial in some public courtof justice?

Can he, by his own authority, confine any subject in prison as long as hepleases, 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 ofthe 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? andwhen, and how often do they meet?

If two subjects of the elector's are at law, for an estate situated inthe electorate, in what court must this suit be tried? and will thedecision of that court be final, or does there lie an appeal to theimperial chamber at Wetzlaer?

What do you call the two chief courts, or two chief magistrates, of civiland 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 thegreatest number that the electorate is able to maintain?

I do not expect to have all these questions answered at once; but youwill answer them, in proportion as you get the necessary and authenticinformations. 

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 consultyou about past end present, but not about what is to come. 

I wish you a good Easter-fair at Leipsig. See, with attention all theshops, drolls, tumblers, rope-dancers, and 'hoc genus omne': but informyourself 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 whichI have received lately of you. 

The former, from Mr. Harte; the latter, from Mr. Trevanion, who isarrived here: they conspire to convince me that you employ your time wellat Leipsig. I am glad to find you consult your own interest and your ownpleasure so much; for the knowledge which you will acquire in these twoyears is equally necessary for both. I am likewise particularly pleasedto find that you turn yourself to that sort of knowledge which is morepeculiarly necessary for your destination: for Mr. Harte tells me youhave read, with attention, Caillieres, Pequet, and Richelieu's "Letters. "The "Memoirs" of the Cardinal de Retz will both entertain and instructyou; they relate to a very interesting period of the French history, theministry of Cardinal Mazarin, during the minority of Lewis XIV. Thecharacters of all the considerable people of that time are drawn, in ashort, strong, and masterly manner; and the political reflections, whichare most of them printed in italics, are the justest that ever I metwith: they are not the labored reflections of a systematical closetpolitician, who, without the least experience of business, sits at homeand writes maxims; but they are the reflections which a great and ableman formed from long experience and practice in great business. They aretrue conclusions, drawn from facts, not from speculations. 

As modern history is particularly your business, I will give you somerules to direct your study of it. It begins, properly with Charlemagne, in the year 800. But as, in those times of ignorance, the priests andmonks were almost the only people that could or did write, we havescarcely any histories of those times but such as they have been pleasedto give us, which are compounds of ignorance, superstition, and partyzeal. So that a general notion of what is rather supposed, than reallyknown to be, the history of the five or six following centuries, seems tobe sufficient; and much time would be but ill employed in a minuteattention to those legends. But reserve your utmost care, and mostdiligent inquiries, from the fifteenth century, and downward. Thenlearning began to revive, and credible histories to be written; Europebegan to take the form, which, to some degree, it still retains: at leastthe foundations of the present great powers of Europe were then laid. Lewis the Eleventh made France, in truth, a monarchy, or, as he used tosay himself, 'la mit hors de Page'. Before his time, there wereindependent provinces in France, as the Duchy of Brittany, etc. , whoseprinces tore it to pieces, and kept it in constant domestic confusion. Lewis the Eleventh reduced all these petty states, by fraud, force, ormarriage; for he scrupled no means to obtain his ends. 

About that time, Ferdinand King of Aragon, and Isabella his wife, Queenof Castile, united the whole Spanish monarchy, and drove the Moors out ofSpain, 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; andthen, by the marriage of his son Philip, Archduke of Austria, with Jane, the daughter of Isabella, Queen of Spain, and heiress of that wholekingdom, and of the West Indies. By the first of these marriages, thehouse 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 wasupon account of these two marriages, that the following Latin distich wasmade:

 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 himselfpossessed of, gave him a desire for universal power (for people neverdesire all till they have gotten a great deal), and alarmed France; thissowed the seeds of that jealousy and enmity, which have flourished eversince between those two great powers. Afterward the House of Austria wasweakened 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 nowis. This is a most interesting part of the history of Europe, of which itis 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 runof history. Such is the revolt of the Seventeen Provinces, in the reignof Philip the Second of Spain, which ended in forming the presentrepublic of the Seven United Provinces, whose independency was firstallowed by Spain at the treaty of Munster. Such was the extraordinaryrevolution of Portugal, in the year 1640, in favor of the present Houseof Braganza. Such is the famous revolution of Sweden, when Christian theSecond of Denmark, who was also king of Sweden, was driven out byGustavus Vasa. And such also is that memorable era in Denmark, of 1660;when the states of that kingdom made a voluntary surrender of all theirrights and liberties to the Crown, and changed that free state into themost absolute monarchy now in Europe. The Acta Regis, upon that occasion, are worth your perusing. These remarkable periods of modern historydeserve your particular attention, and most of them have been treatedsingly by good historians, which are worth your reading. The revolutionsof Sweden, and of Portugal, are most admirably well written by L'Abbe deVertot; they are short, and will not take twelve hours' reading. There isanother book which very well deserves your looking into, but not worthyour buying at present, because it is not portable; if you can borrow orhire it, you should; and that is, 'L' Histoire des Traits de Paix, in twovolumes, folio, which make part of the 'Corps Diplomatique'. You willthere find a short and clear history, and the substance of every treatymade in Europe, during the last century, from the treaty of Vervins. Three parts in four of this book are not worth your reading, as theyrelate to treaties of very little importance; but if you select the mostconsiderable ones, read them with attention, and take some notes, it willbe of great use to you. Attend chiefly to those in which the great powersof Europe are the parties; such as the treaty of the Pyrenees, betweenFrance and Spain; the treaties of Nimeguen and Ryswick; but, above all, the treaty of Munster should be most circumstantially and minutely knownto you, as almost every treaty made since has some reference to it. Forthis, Pere Bougeant is the best book you can read, as it takes in thethirty years' war, which preceded that treaty. The treaty itself, whichis made a perpetual law of the empire, comes in the course of yourlectures upon the 'Jus Publicum Imperii'. 

In order to furnish you with materials for a letter, and at the same timeto 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 menin each company?

How many troops in the regiments of horse and dragoons; and how many menin each?

What number of commissioned and non-commissioned officers in a company offoot, or in a troop of horse or dragoons? N. B. Noncommissioned officersare 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 EtatMajor-general is everything above colonel. The Austrians have nobrigadiers, 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 MonsieurDuval, who is going to the fair at Leipsig. He is a jeweler, originallyof Geneva, but who has been settled here these eight or ten years, and avery sensible fellow: pray do be very civil to him. 

As I advised you, some time ago, to inform yourself of the civil andmilitary establishments of as many of the kingdoms and states of Europe, as you should either be in yourself, or be able to get authentic accountsof, 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 canimmediately turn to whatever article you want; and, by adding interleavesto each letter, may extend your minutes to what particulars you please. You may get such books made anywhere; and appropriate each, if youplease, to a particular object. I have myself found great utility in thismethod. If I had known what to have sent you by this opportunity I wouldhave done it. The French say, 'Que les petits presens entretiennentl'amite et que les grande l'augmentent'; but I could not recollect thatyou wanted anything, or at least anything that you cannot get as well atLeipsig as here. Do but continue to deserve, and, I assure you, that youshall never want anything I can give. 

Do not apprehend that my being out of employment may be any prejudice toyou. Many things will happen before you can be fit for business; and whenyou are fit, whatever my situation may be, it will always be in my powerto help you in your first steps; afterward you must help yourself by yourown abilities. Make yourself necessary, and, instead of soliciting, youwill be solicited. The thorough knowledge of foreign affairs, theinterests, 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 acquirethem; 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 thisplace and Leipsig; and they are distant enough to admit of many. I alwaystake it for granted that you are well, when I do not hear to thecontrary; besides, as I have often told you, I am much more anxious aboutyour 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 willcontinue, while your temperance continues; and at your age nature takessufficient care of the body, provided she is left to herself, and thatintemperance on one hand, or medicines on the other, do not break in uponher. But it is by no means so with the mind, which, at your ageparticularly, requires great and constant care, and some physic. Everyquarter of an hour, well or ill employed, will do it essential andlasting good or harm. It requires also a great deal of exercise, to bringit to a state of health and vigor. Observe the difference there isbetween minds cultivated, and minds uncultivated, and you will, I amsure, think that you cannot take too much pains, nor employ too much ofyour time in the culture of your own. A drayman is probably born with asgood organs as Milton, Locke, or Newton; but, by culture, they are asmuch more above him as he is above his horse. Sometimes, indeed, extraordinary geniuses have broken out by the force of nature, withoutthe assistance of education; but those instances are too rare for anybodyto trust to; and even they would make a much greater figure, if they hadthe advantage of education into the bargain. If Shakespeare's genius hadbeen cultivated, those beauties, which we so justly admire in him, wouldhave been undisgraced by those extravagancies, and that nonsense, withwhich they are frequently accompanied. People are, in general, what theyare made, by education and company, from fifteen to five-and-twenty;consider well, therefore, the importance of your next eight or nineyears; your whole depends upon them. I will tell you sincerely, my hopesand my fears concerning you. I think you will be a good scholar; and thatyou will acquire a considerable stock of knowledge of various kinds; butI fear that you neglect what are called little, though, in truth, theyare very material things; I mean, a gentleness of manners, an engagingaddress, 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 amtold that you speak very quick, and not distinctly; this is a mostungraceful and disagreeable trick, which you know I have told you of athousand times; pray attend carefully to the correction of it. Anagreeable and, distinct manner of speaking adds greatly to the matter;and I have known many a very good speech unregarded, upon account of thedisagreeable manner in which it has been delivered, and many anindifferent 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 lastto you, I will not let three posts go from hence without a letter fromme. My affection always prompts me to write to you; and I am encouragedto do it, by the hopes that my letters are not quite useless. You willprobably receive this in the midst of the diversions of Leipsig fair; atwhich, Mr. Harte tells me, that you are to shine in fine clothes, amongfine folks. I am very glad of it, as it is time that you should begin tobe formed to the manners of the world in higher life. Courts are the bestschools for that sort of learning. You are beginning now with the outsideof a court; and there is not a more gaudy one than that of Saxony. Attendto it, and make your observations upon the turn and manners of it, thatyou 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 politicalconduct and maxims of that court, yet you may remark the forms, theceremonies, and the exterior state of it. At least see everything thatyou can see, and know everything that you can know of it, by askingquestions. 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 oneeither wonders or admires. 

Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him that I have just nowreceived his letter, for which I thank him. I am called away, and myletter is therefore very much shortened. Adieu. 

I am impatient to receive your answers to the many questions that I haveasked you. 

LETTER XXXVII

LONDON, April 26, O. S. 1748. 

DEAR BOY: I am extremely pleased with your continuation of the history ofthe Reformation; which is one of those important eras that deserves yourutmost attention, and of which you cannot be too minutely informed. Youhave, doubtless, considered the causes of that great event, and observedthat disappointment and resentment had a much greater share in it, than areligious zeal or an abhorrence of the errors and abuses of popery. 

Luther, an Augustine monk, enraged that his order, and consequentlyhimself, had not the exclusive privilege of selling indulgences, but thatthe Dominicans were let into a share of that profitable but infamoustrade, turns reformer, and exclaims against the abuses, the corruption, and the idolatry, of the church of Rome; which were certainly grossenough for him to have seen long before, but which he had at leastacquiesced in, till what he called the rights, that is, the profit, ofhis order came to be touched. It is true, the church of Rome furnishedhim ample matter for complaint and reformation, and he laid hold of itably. 

This seems to me the true cause of that great and necessary, work; butwhatever the cause was, the effect was good; and the Reformation spreaditself by its own truth and fitness; was conscientiously received bygreat numbers in Germany, and other countries; and was soon afterwardmixed up with the politics of princes; and, as it always happens inreligious disputes, became the specious covering of injustice andambition. 

Under the pretense of crushing heresy, as it was called, the House ofAustria meant to extend and establish its power in the empire; as, on theother hand, many Protestant princes, under the pretense of extirpatingidolatry, or at least of securing toleration, meant only to enlarge theirown dominions or privileges. These views respectively, among the chiefson both sides, much more than true religious motives, continued what werecalled the religious wars in Germany, almost uninterruptedly, till theaffairs of the two religions were finally settled by the treaty ofMunster. 

Were most historical events traced up to their true causes, I fear weshould not find them much more noble or disinterested than Luther'sdisappointed avarice; and therefore I look with some contempt upon thoserefining and sagacious historians, who ascribe all, even the most commonevents, to some deep political cause; whereas mankind is made up ofinconsistencies, and no man acts invariably up to his predominantcharacter. The wisest man sometimes acts weakly, and the weakestsometimes wisely. Our jarring passions, our variable humors, nay, ourgreater or lesser degree of health and spirits, produce suchcontradictions in our conduct, that, I believe, those are the oftenestmistaken, 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 finemorning, have sometimes made a hero of the same man, who, by anindigestion, a restless night, and rainy morning, would, have proved acoward. Our best conjectures, therefore, as to the true springs ofactions, are but very uncertain; and the actions themselves are all thatwe must pretend to know from history. That Caesar was murdered bytwenty-three conspirators, I make no doubt: but I very much doubt thattheir love of liberty, and of their country, was their sole, or evenprincipal motive; and I dare say that, if the truth were known, we shouldfind that many other motives at least concurred, even in the great Brutushimself; such as pride, envy, personal pique, and disappointment. Nay, Icannot help carrying my Pyrrhonism still further, and extending it oftento historical facts themselves, at least to most of the circumstanceswith which they are related; and every day's experience confirms me inthis historical incredulity. Do we ever hear the most recent fact relatedexactly in the same way, by the several people who were at the same timeeyewitnesses of it? No. One mistakes, another misrepresents, and otherswarp it a little to their own, turn of mind, or private views. A man whohas been concerned in a transaction will not write it fairly; and a manwho has not, cannot. But notwithstanding all this uncertainty, history isnot the less necessary to be known, as the best histories are taken forgranted, and are the frequent subjects both of conversation and writing. Though I am convinced that Caesar's ghost never appeared to Brutus, yet Ishould be much ashamed to be ignorant of that fact, as related by thehistorians of those times. Thus the Pagan theology is universallyreceived as matter for writing and conversation, though believed now bynobody; and we talk of Jupiter, Mars, Apollo, etc. , as gods, though weknow, that if they ever existed at all, it was only as mere mortal men. This historical Pyrrhonism, then, proves nothing against the study andknowledge of history; which, of all other studies, is the most necessaryfor a man who is to live in the world. It only points out to us, not tobe too decisive and peremptory; and to be cautious how we draw inferencesfor our own practice from remote facts, partially or ignorantly related;of which we can, at best, but imperfectly guess, and certainly not knowthe real motives. The testimonies of ancient history must necessarily beweaker than those of modern, as all testimony grows weaker and weaker, asit is more and more remote from us. I would therefore advise you to studyancient history, in general, as other people, do; that is, not to beignorant of any or those facts which are universally received, upon thefaith of the best historians; and whether true or false, you have them asother people have them. But modern history, I mean particularly that ofthe last three centuries, is what I would have you apply to with thegreatest attention and exactness. There the probability of coming at thetruth is much greater, as the testimonies are much more recent; besides, anecdotes, memoirs, and original letters, often come to the aid of modernhistory. 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 toread more than once, with attention. There are many political maxims inthese memoirs, most of which are printed in italics; pray attend to, andremember them. I never read them but my own experience confirms the truthof them. Many of them seem trifling to people who are not used tobusiness; but those who are, feel the truth of them. 

It is time to put an end to this long rambling letter; in which if anyone thing can be of use to you, it will more than pay the trouble I havetaken 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 fromDresden, where you have made your first court caravanne. What inclinationfor courts this taste of them may have given you, I cannot tell; but thisI think myself sure of, from your good sense, that in leaving Dresden, you have left dissipation too; and have resumed at Leipsig thatapplication which, if you like courts, can alone enable you to make agood figure at them. A mere courtier, without parts or knowledge, is themost frivolous and contemptible of all beings; as, on the other hand, aman of parts and knowledge, who acquires the easy and noble manners of acourt, is the most perfect. It is a trite, commonplace observation, thatcourts are the seats of falsehood and dissimulation. That, like many, Imight say most, commonplace observations, is false. Falsehood anddissimulation are certainly to be found at courts; but where are they notto be found? Cottages have them, as well as courts; only with worsemanners. A couple of neighboring farmers in a village will contrive andpractice as many tricks, to over-reach each other at the next market, orto supplant each other in the favor, of the squire, as any two courtierscan 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 thatshepherds and ministers are both men; their nature and passions the same, the modes of them only different. 

Having mentioned commonplace observations, I will particularly cautionyou against either using, believing, or approving them. They are thecommon topics of witlings and coxcombs; those, who really have wit, havethe utmost contempt for them, and scorn even to laugh at the pert thingsthat those would-be wits say upon such subjects. 

Religion is one of their favorite topics; it is all priest-craft; and aninvention contrived and carried on by priests of all religions, for theirown power and profit; from this absurd and false principle flow thecommonplace, insipid jokes, and insults upon the clergy. With thesepeople, every priest, of every religion, is either a public or aconcealed unbeliever, drunkard, and whoremaster; whereas, I conceive, that priests are extremely like other men, and neither the better nor theworse for wearing a gown or a surplice: but if they are different fromother 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 maypretend, in public, to the contrary. The husband certainly wishes hiswife at the devil, and the wife certainly cuckolds her husband. Whereas, I presume, that men and their wives neither love nor hate each other themore, upon account of the form of matrimony which has been said overthem. The cohabitation, indeed, which is the consequence of matrimony, makes them either love or hate more, accordingly as they respectivelydeserve it; but that would be exactly the same between any man and womanwho lived together without being married. 

These and many other commonplace reflections upon nations or professionsin general (which are at least as often false as true), are the poorrefuge of people who have neither wit nor invention of their own, butendeavor to shine in company by second-hand finery. I always put thesepert jackanapes out of countenance, by looking extremely grave, when theyexpect that I should laugh at their pleasantries; and by saying WELL, ANDSO, as if they had not done, and that the sting were still to come. Thisdisconcerts them, as they have no resources in themselves, and have butone set of jokes to live upon. Men of parts are not reduced to theseshifts, and have the utmost contempt for them, they find proper subjectsenough for either useful or lively conversations; they can be wittywithout satire or commonplace, and serious without being dull. Thefrequentation of courts checks this petulancy of manners; thegood-breeding and circumspection which are necessary, and only to belearned there, correct those pertnesses. I do not doubt but that you areimproved in your manners by the short visit which you have made atDresden; and the other courts, which I intend that you shall be betteracquainted with, will gradually smooth you up to the highest polish. Incourts, a versatility of genius and softness of manners are absolutelynecessary; which some people mistake for abject flattery, and having noopinion of one's own; whereas it is only the decent and genteel manner ofmaintaining your own opinion, and possibly of bringing other people toit. The manner of doing things is often more important than the thingsthemselves; and the very same thing may become either pleasing oroffensive, by the manner of saying or doing it. 'Materiam superabatopus', is often said of works of sculpture; where though the materialswere valuable, as silver, gold, etc. , the workmanship was still more so. This holds true, applied to manners; which adorn whatever knowledge orparts people may have; and even make a greater impression upon nine inten of mankind, than the intrinsic value of the materials. On the otherhand, remember, that what Horace says of good writing is justlyapplicable to those who would make a good figure in courts, anddistinguish themselves in the shining parts of life; 'Sapere estprincipium et fons'. A man who, without a good fund of knowledge andparts, adopts a court life, makes the most ridiculous figure imaginable. He is a machine, little superior to the court clock; and, as this pointsout the hours, he points out the frivolous employment of them. He is, atmost, a comment upon the clock; and according to the hours that itstrikes, tells you now it is levee, now dinner, now supper time, etc. Theend which I propose by your education, and which (IF YOU PLEASE) I shallcertainly attain, is to unite in you all the knowledge of a scholar withthe manners of a courtier; and to join, what is seldom joined by any ofmy countrymen, books and the world. They are commonly twenty years oldbefore they have spoken to anybody above their schoolmaster, and thefellows of their college. If they happen to have learning, it is onlyGreek 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 stayat home all that while; for being very awkward, confoundedly ashamed, andnot speaking the languages, they go into no foreign company, at leastnone good; but dine and sup with one another only at the tavern. Suchexamples, I am sure, you will not imitate, but even carefully avoid. Youwill always take care to keep the best company in the place where youare, which is the only use of traveling: and (by the way) the pleasuresof a gentleman are only to be found in the best company; for that notwhich low company, most falsely and impudently, call pleasure, is onlythe sensuality of a swine. 

I ask hard and uninterrupted study from you but one year more; afterthat, you shall have every day more and more time for your amusements. Afew hours each day will then be sufficient for application, and theothers 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 thankhim for all the civilities he has shown you. Your first setting out atcourt has, I find, been very favorable; and his Polish Majesty hasdistinguished you. I hope you received that mark of distinction withrespect and with steadiness, which is the proper behavior of a man offashion. People of a low, obscure education cannot stand the rays ofgreatness; they are frightened out of their wits when kings and great menspeak to them; they are awkward, ashamed, and do not know what nor how toanswer; 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 itwithout being disconcerted; and can converse just as easily with a kingas with any one of his subjects. That is the great advantage of beingintroduced young into good company, and being used early to converse withone's superiors. How many men have I seen here, who, after having had thefull benefit of an English education, first at school, and then at theuniversity, when they have been presented to the king, did not knowwhether they stood upon their heads or their heels! If the king spoke tothem, they were annihilated; they trembled, endeavored to put their handsin their pockets, and missed them; let their hats fall, and were ashamedto take them up; and in short, put themselves in every attitude but theright, that is, the easy and natural one. The characteristic of awell-bred man, is to converse with his inferiors without insolence, andwith his superiors with respect and ease. He talks to kings withoutconcern; he trifles with women of the first condition with familiarity, gayety, but respect; and converses with his equals, whether he isacquainted with them or not, upon general common topics, that are not, however, quite frivolous, without the least concern of mind orawkwardness of body: neither of which can appear to advantage, but whenthey are perfectly easy. 

The tea-things, which Sir Charles Williams has given you, I would haveyou make a present of to your Mamma, and send them to her by Duval whenhe returns. You owe her not only duty, but likewise great obligations forher care and tenderness; and, consequently, cannot take too manyopportunities of showing your gratitude. 

I am impatient to receive your account of Dresden, and likewise youranswers 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 yourlife, that I cannot help repeating to you my exhortations, my commands, and (what I hope will be still more prevailing with you than either) myearnest entreaties, to employ them well. Every moment that you now lose, is so much character and advantage lost; as, on the other hand, everymoment that you now employ usefully, is so much time wisely laid out, atmost prodigious interest. These two years must lay the foundations of allthe knowledge that you will ever have; you may build upon them afterwardas much as you please, but it will be too late to lay any new ones. Letme beg of you, therefore, to grudge no labor nor pains to acquire, intime, that stock of knowledge, without which you never can rise, but mustmake a very insignificant figure in the world. Consider your ownsituation; 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 besaid 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 butenough of it. I have often heard and read of oppressed and unrewardedmerit, but I have oftener (I might say always) seen great merit make itsway, and meet with its reward, to a certain degree at least, in spite ofall difficulties. By merit, I mean the moral virtues, knowledge, andmanners; as to the moral virtues, I say nothing to you; they speak bestfor themselves, nor can I suspect that they want any recommendation withyou; I will therefore only assure you, that without them you will be mostunhappy. 

As to knowledge, I have often told you, and I am persuaded you arethoroughly convinced, how absolutely necessary it is to you, whateveryour 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 mindcapable of entertaining and digesting, all parts of knowledge, I willpoint out those to which you should particularly apply, and which, byapplication, you may make yourself perfect master of. Classicalknowledge, that is, Greek and Latin, is absolutely necessary foreverybody; because everybody has agreed to think and to call it so. Andthe word ILLITERATE, in its common acceptation, means a man who isignorant of those two languages. You are by this time, I hope, prettynear 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 theirturns, have their hours too; not that I desire you should be deep in anyone of these; but it is fit you should know something of them all. Theknowledge more particularly useful and necessary for you, consideringyour destination, consists of modern languages, modern history, chronology, and geography, the laws of nations, and the 'jus publicumImperii'. You must absolutely speak all the modern Languages, as purelyand correctly as the natives of the respective countries: for whoeverdoes not speak a language perfectly and easily, will never appear toadvantage in conversation, nor treat with others in it upon equal terms. As for French, you have it very well already; and must necessarily, fromthe universal usage of that language, know it better and better everyday: so that I am in no pain about that: German, I suppose, you knowpretty well by this time, and will be quite master of it before you leaveLeipsig: at least, I am sure you may. Italian and Spanish will come intheir turns, and, indeed, they are both so easy, to one who knows Latinand French, that neither of them will cost you much time or trouble. Modern history, by which I mean particularly the history of the lastthree centuries, should be the object of your greatest and constantattention, especially those parts of it which relate more immediately tothe great powers of Europe. This study you will carefully connect withchronology and geography; that is, you will remark and retain the datesof every important event; and always read with the map by you, in whichyou will constantly look for every place mentioned: this is the only wayof 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 realmerit, are, however, very far from being useless in its composition; theyadorn, and give an additional force and luster to both virtue andknowledge. They prepare and smooth the way for the progress of both; andare, I fear, with the bulk of mankind, more engaging than either. Remember, then, the infinite advantage of manners; cultivate and improveyour 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; andhow 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 ofcompany, 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 andfinish the building; but you will never find enough to lay newfoundations. I have such an opinion of your understanding, that I amconvinced you are sensible of these truths; and that, however hard andlaborious your present uninterrupted application may seem to you, youwill rather increase than lessen it. For God's sake, my dear boy, do notsquander away one moment of your time, for every moment may be now mostusefully employed. Your future fortune, character, and figure in theworld, entirely depend upon your use or abuse of the two next years. Ifyou do but employ them well, what may you not reasonably expect to be, intime? And if you do not, what may I not reasonably fear you will be? Youare the only one I ever knew, of this country, whose education was, fromthe beginning, calculated for the department of foreign affairs; inconsequence of which, if you will invariably pursue, and diligentlyqualify yourself for that object, you may make yourself absolutelynecessary to the government, and, after having received orders as aminister abroad, send orders, in your turn, as Secretary of State athome. Most of our ministers abroad have taken up that departmentoccasionally, without having ever thought of foreign affairs before; manyof them, without speaking any one foreign language; and all of themwithout manners which are absolutely necessary toward being wellreceived, and making a figure at foreign courts. They do the businessaccordingly, that is, very ill: they never get into the secrets of thesecourts, for want of insinuation and address: they do not guess at theirviews, for want of knowing their interests: and, at last, findingthemselves very unfit for, soon grow weary of their commissions, and areimpatient to return home, where they are but too justly laid aside andneglected. Every moment's conversation may, if you please, be of use toyou; in this view, every public event, which is the common topic ofconversation, gives you an opportunity of getting some information. Forexample, the preliminaries of peace, lately concluded at Aix-la-Chapelle, will be the common subject of most conversations; in which you will takecare to ask the proper questions: as, what is the meaning of the Assientocontract for negroes, between England and Spain; what the annual ship;when stipulated; upon what account suspended, etc. You will likewiseinform yourself about Guastalla, now given to Don Philip, together withParma and Placentia; who they belonged to before; what claim orpretensions Don Philip had to them; what they are worth; in short, everything concerning them. The cessions made by the Queen of Hungary tothe King of Sardinia, are, by these preliminaries, confirmed and securedto him: you will inquire, therefore, what they are, and what they areworth. This is the kind of knowledge which you should be most thoroughlymaster of, and in which conversation will help you almost as much asbooks: but both are best. There are histories of every considerabletreaty, from that of Westphalia to that of Utrecht, inclusively; allwhich I would advise you to read. Pore Bougeant's, of the treaty ofWestphalia, is an excellent one; those of Nimeguen, Ryswick, and Utrecht, are not so well written; but are, however, very useful. 'L'Histoire desTraites de Paix', in two volumes, folio, which I recommended to you sometime ago, is a book that you should often consult, when you hear mentionmade of any treaty concluded in the seventeenth century. 

Upon the whole, if you have a mind to be considerable, and to shinehereafter, 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 fundof knowledge will amply repay all the pains that you can take inacquiring it. Reflect seriously, within yourself, upon all this, and askyourself whether I can have any view, but your interest, in all that Irecommend to you. It is the result of my experience, and flows from thattenderness 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 hisletter of the 24th, N. S. 

LETTER XLI

LONDON, May 31, O. S. 1748

DEAR BOY: I have received, with great satisfaction, your letter of the28th N. S. , from Dresden: it finishes your short but clear account of theReformation which is one of those interesting periods of modern history, that can not be too much studied nor too minutely known by you. There aremany great events in history, which, when once they are over, leavethings in the situation in which they found them. As, for instance, thelate war; which, excepting the establishment in Italy for Don Philip, leave things pretty much in state quo; a mutual restitution of allacquisitions being stipulated by the preliminaries of the peace. Suchevents undoubtedly deserve your notice, but yet not so minutely as those, which are not only important in themselves, but equally (or it may bemore) important by their consequences too: of this latter sort were theprogress of the Christian religion in Europe; the Invasion of the Goths;the division of the Roman empire into Western and Eastern; theestablishment and rapid progress of Mahometanism; and, lastly, theReformation; all which events produced the greatest changes in theaffairs of Europe, and to one or other of which, the present situation ofall the parts of it is to be traced up. 

Next to these, are those events which more immediately effect particularstates and kingdoms, and which are reckoned entirely local, though theirinfluence may, and indeed very often does, indirectly, extend itselffurther, such as civil wars and revolutions, from which a total change inthe form of government frequently flows. The civil wars in England, inthe reign of King Charles I. , produced an entire change of the governmenthere, from a limited monarchy to a commonwealth, at first, and afterwardto 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 ofgovernment; which King James II. Intended to subvert, and establishabsolute power in the Crown. 

These are the two great epochs in our English history, which I recommendto your particular attention. 

The league formed by the House of Guise, and fomented by the artifices ofSpain, is a most material part of the history of France. The foundationof it was laid in the reign of Henry II. , but the superstructure wascarried on through the successive reigns of Francis II. , Charles IX. AndHenry III. , till at last it was crushed, partly, by the arms, but more bythe apostasy of Henry IV. 

In Germany, great events have been frequent, by which the imperialdignity has always either gotten or lost; and so it they have affectedthe constitution of the empire. The House of Austria kept that dignity toitself for near two hundred years, during which time it was alwaysattempting extend its power, by encroaching upon the rights andprivileges of the other states of the empire; till at the end of thebellum 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, bythe Popes and the Anti-popes, severally supported by other great powersof Europe, more as their interests than as their religion led them; bythe pretensions also of France, and the House of Austria, upon Naples, Sicily, and the Milanese; not to mention the various lesser causes ofsquabbles there, for the little states, such as Ferrara, Parma, Montserrat, etc. 

The Popes, till lately, have always taken a considerable part, and hadgreat influence in the affairs of Europe; their excommunications, bulls, and indulgences, stood instead of armies in the time of ignorance andbigotry; but now that mankind is better informed, the spiritual authorityof the Pope is not only less regarded, but even despised by the Catholicprinces themselves; and his Holiness is actually little more than Bishopof Rome, with large temporalities, which he is not likely to keep longerthan till the other greater powers in Italy shall find their conveniencyin taking them from him. Among the modern Popes, Leo the Tenth, Alexanderthe Sixth, and Sextus Quintus, deserve your particular notice; the first, among other things, for his own learning and taste, and for hisencouragement of the reviving arts and sciences in Italy. Under hisprotection, the Greek and Latin classics were most excellently translatedinto Italian; painting flourished and arrived at its perfection; andsculpture came so near the ancients, that the works of his time, both inmarble and bronze, are now called Antico-Moderno. 

Alexander the Sixth, together with his natural son Caesar Borgia, wasfamous for his wickedness, in which he, and his son too, surpassed allimagination. Their lives are well worth your reading. They were poisonedthemselves by the poisoned wine which they had prepared for others; thefather died of it, but Caesar recovered. 

Sixtus the Fifth was the son of a swineherd, and raised himself to thepopedom by his abilities: he was a great knave, but an able and singularone. 

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 mesuch real concern, that it will be the subject of this, and, I believe, of many more letters. I congratulate both you and myself, that, wasinformed of it (as I hope) in time to prevent it: and shall ever thinkmyself, as hereafter you will, I am sure think yourself, infinitelyobliged to Sir Charles Williams for informing me of it. Good God! if thisungraceful and disagreeable manner of speaking had, either by yournegligence or mine, become habitual to you, as in a couple of years moreit would have been, what a figure would you have made in company, or in apublic assembly? Who would have liked you in the one or attended you; inthe other? Read what Cicero and Quintilian say of enunciation, and seewhat a stress they lay upon the gracefulness of it; nay, Cicero goesfurther, and even maintains, that a good figure is necessary for anorator; and particularly that he must not be vastus, that is, overgrownand clumsy. He shows by it that he knew mankind well, and knew the powersof an agreeable figure and a graceful, manner. Men, as well as women, aremuch oftener led by their hearts than by their understandings. The way tothe heart is through the senses; please their eyes and their ears and thework is half done. I have frequently known a man's fortune decided forever by his first address. If it is pleasing, people are hurriedinvoluntarily into a persuasion that he has a merit, which possibly hehas not; as, on the other hand, if it is ungraceful, they are immediatelyprejudiced against him, and unwilling to allow him the merit which it maybe he has. Nor is this sentiment so unjust and unreasonable as at firstit may seem; for if a man has parts, he must know of what infiniteconsequence it is to him to have a graceful manner of speaking, and agenteel and pleasing address; he will cultivate and improve them to theutmost. Your figure is a good one; you have no natural defect in theorgans of speech; your address may be engaging, and your manner ofspeaking graceful, if you will; so that if you are not so, neither I northe world can ascribe it to anything but your want of parts. What is theconstant 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 theymay 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 inhis favor. Words were given us to communicate our ideas by: and theremust be something inconceivably absurd in uttering them in such a manneras that either people cannot understand them, or will not desire tounderstand them. I tell you, truly and sincerely, that I shall judge ofyour parts by your speaking gracefully or ungracefully. If you haveparts, you will never be at rest till you have brought yourself to ahabit 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 toofast, do not observe the proper stops, or lay a wrong emphasis. You willtake care to open your teeth when you speak; to articulate every worddistinctly; and to beg of Mr. Harte, Mr. Eliot, or whomsoever you speakto, to remind and stop you, if you ever fall into the rapid andunintelligible mutter. You will even read aloud to yourself, and timeyour utterance to your own ear; and read at first much slower than youneed to do, in order to correct yourself of that shameful trick ofspeaking faster than you ought. In short, if you think right, you willmake it your business; your study, and your pleasure to speak well. Therefore, what I have said in this, and in my last, is more thansufficient, if you have sense; and ten times more would not besufficient, if you have not; so here I rest it. 

Next to graceful speaking, a genteel carriage, and a graceful manner ofpresenting yourself, are extremely necessary, for they are extremelyengaging: and carelessness in these points is much more unpardonable in ayoung fellow than affectation. It shows an offensive indifference aboutpleasing. I am told by one here, who has seen you lately, that you areawkward in your motions, and negligent of your person: I am sorry forboth; and so will you be, when it will be too late, if you continue sosome time longer. Awkwardness of carriage is very alienating; and a totalnegligence of dress and air is an impertinent insult upon custom andfashion. You remember Mr. ------very well, I am sure, and you mustconsequently remember his, extreme awkwardness: which, I can assure you, has been a great clog to his parts and merit, that have, with muchdifficulty, but barely counterbalanced it at last. Many, to whom I haveformerly commended him, have answered me, that they were sure he couldnot have parts, because he was so awkward: so much are people, as Iobserved to you before, taken by the eye. Women have great influence asto a man's fashionable character; and an awkward man will never havetheir votes; which, by the way, are very numerous, and much oftenercounted than weighed. You should therefore give some attention to yourdress, and the gracefulness of your motions. I believe, indeed, that youhave no perfect model for either at Leipsig, to form yourself upon; but, however, do not get a habit of neglecting either; and attend properly toboth, when you go to courts, where they are very necessary, and where youwill have good masters and good models for both. Your exercises ofriding, fencing, and dancing, will civilize and fashion your body andyour limbs, and give you, if you will but take it, 'l'air d'un honnetehomme'. 

I will now conclude with suggesting one reflection to you; which is, thatyou should be sensible of your good fortune, in having one who interestshimself enough in you, to inquire into your faults, in order to informyou of them. Nobody but myself would be so solicitous, either to know orcorrect them; so that you might consequently be ignorant of themyourself; for our own self-love draws a thick veil between us and ourfaults. But when you hear yours from me, you may be sure that you hearthem from one who for your sake only desires to correct them; from onewhom you cannot suspect of any, partiality but in your favor; and fromone who heartily wishes that his care of you, as a father, may, in alittle time, render every care unnecessary but that of a friend. Adieu. 

P. S. I condole with you for the untimely and violent death of thetuneful Matzel. 

LETTER XLIII

LONDON, July 1, O. S. 1748. 

DEAR Boy: I am extremely well pleased with the course of studies whichMr. Harte informs me you are now in, and with the degree of applicationwhich he assures me you have to them. It is your interest to do so, asthe advantage will be all your own. My affection for you makes me bothwish and endeavor that you may turn out well; and, according as you doturn out, I shall either be proud or ashamed of you. But as to mereinterest, in the common acceptation of that word, it would be mine thatyou should turn out ill; for you may depend upon it, that whatever youhave from me shall be most exactly proportioned to your desert. Deserve agreat deal, and you shall have a great deal; deserve a little, and youshall have but a little; and be good for nothing at all, and, I assureyou, you shall have nothing at all. 

Solid knowledge, as I have often told you, is the first and greatfoundation of your future fortune and character; for I never mention toyou the two much greater points of Religion and Morality, because Icannot possibly suspect you as to either of them. This solid knowledgeyou are in a fair way of acquiring; you may, if you please; and I willadd, that nobody ever had the means of acquiring it more in their powerthan you have. But remember, that manners must adorn knowledge, andsmooth its way through the world. Like a great rough diamond, it may dovery well in a closet by way of curiosity, and also for its intrinsicvalue; but it will never be worn or shine if it is not polished. It isupon this article, I confess, that I suspect you the most, which makes merecur to it so often; for I fear that you are apt to show too littleattention to everybody, and too much contempt to many. Be convinced, thatthere are no persons so insignificant and inconsiderable, but may, sometime or other, have it in their power to be of use to you; which theycertainly will not, if you have once shown them contempt. Wrongs areoften forgiven; but contempt never is. Our pride remembers it forever. Itimplies a discovery of weaknesses, which we are much more careful toconceal than crimes. Many a man will confess his crimes to a commonfriend, but I never knew a man who would tell his silly weaknesses to hismost intimate one--as many a friend will tell us our faults withoutreserve, who will not so much as hint at our follies; that discovery istoo mortifying to our self-love, either to tell another, or to be told ofone's self. You must, therefore, never expect to hear of your weaknesses, or your follies, from anybody but me; those I will take pains todiscover, and whenever I do, shall tell you of them. 

Next to manners are exterior graces of person and address, which adornmanners, as manners adorn knowledge. To say that they please, engage, andcharm, as they most indisputably do, is saying that one should doeverything possible to acquire them. The graceful manner of speaking is, particularly, what I shall always holloa in your ears, as Hotspurholloaed MORTIMER to Henry IV. , and, like him too, I have aimed to have astarling taught to say, SPEAK DISTINCTLY AND GRACEFULLY, and send himyou, to replace your loss of the unfortunate Matzel, who, by the way, Iam told, spoke his language very distinctly and gracefully. 

As by this time you must be able to write German tolerably well, I desirethat you will not fail to write a German letter, in the German character, once every fortnight, to Mr. Grevenkop: which will make it more familiarto 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 whileago, in relation to the constitution of Saxony; and also the meaning ofthe words 'Landsassii and Amptsassii'. 

I hope you do not forget to inquire into the affairs of trade andcommerce, nor to get the best accounts you can of the commodities andmanufactures, exports and imports of the several countries where you maybe, 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 whichpurpose I would advise you to put up, in a separate piece of paper, onepiece of every kind, wherever you shall be, writing upon it the name andthe value. Such a collection will be curious enough in itself; and thatsort 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 prettygood, than for the dissipation and amusement of the journey. I shall stayabout a fortnight. 

L'Abbe Mably's 'Droit de l'Europe', which Mr. Harte is so kind as to sendme, is worth your reading. Adieu. 

LETTER XLIV. 

CHELTENHAM, July 6, O. S. 1748. 

DEAR BOY: Your school-fellow, Lord Pulteney, --[Only child of the RightHon. William Pulteney, Earl of Bath. He died before his father. ]--set outlast week for Holland, and will, I believe, be at Leipsig soon after thisletter: you will take care to be extremely civil to him, and to do himany service that you can while you stay there; let him know that I wroteto you to do so. As being older, he should know more than you; in thatcase, take pains to get up to him; but if he does not, take care not tolet him feel his inferiority. He will find it out of himself without yourendeavors; and that cannot be helped: but nothing is more insulting, moremortifying and less forgiven, than avowedly to take pains to make a manfeel a mortifying inferiority in knowledge, rank, fortune, etc. In thetwo last articles, it is unjust, they not being in his power: and in thefirst it is both ill-bred and ill-natured. Good-breeding, andgood-nature, do incline us rather to raise and help people up toourselves, than to mortify and depress them, and, in truth, our ownprivate interest concurs in it, as it is making ourselves so manyfriends, instead of so many enemies. The constant practice of what theFrench call 'les Attentions', is a most necessary ingredient in the artof 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 theseattentions are voluntary acts, the free-will offerings of good-breedingand good nature; they are received, remembered, and returned as such. Women, particularly, have a right to them; and any omission in thatrespect 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 makethe most of the respective allotments of your time? While you study, isit with attention? When you divert yourself, is it with spirit? Yourdiversions may, if you please, employ some part of your time veryusefully. It depends entirely upon the nature of them. If they are futileand frivolous it is time worse than lost, for they will give you an habitof futility. All gaming, field-sports, and such sort of amusements, whereneither the understanding nor the senses have the least share, I lookupon as frivolous, and as the resources of little minds, who either donot think, or do not love to think. But the pleasures of a man of partseither flatter the senses or improve the mind; I hope at least, thatthere 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 youopen Demosthenes at a venture, and understand him? Can you get through an"Oration" of Cicero, or a "Satire" of Horace, without difficulty? WhatGerman books do you read, to make yourself master of that language? Andwhat French books do you read for your amusement? Pray give me aparticular and true account of all this; for I am not indifferent as toany one thing that relates to you. As, for example, I hope you take greatcare to keep your whole person, particularly your mouth, very clean;common decency requires it, besides that great cleanliness is veryconducive to health. But if you do not keep your mouth excessively clean, by washing it carefully every morning, and after every meal, it will notonly be apt to smell, which is very disgusting and indecent, but yourteeth will decay and ache, which is both a great loss and a great pain. Aspruceness of dress is also very proper and becoming at your age; as thenegligence of it implies an indifference about pleasing, which does notbecome a young fellow. To do whatever you do at all to the utmostperfection, ought to be your aim at this time of your life; if you canreach perfection, so much the better; but at least, by attempting it, youwill get much nearer than if you never attempted it at all. 

Adieu! SPEAK GRACEFULLY AND DISTINCTLY if you intend to converse everwith, Yours. 

P. S. As I was making up my letter, I received yours of the 6th, O. S. Ilike your dissertation upon Preliminary Articles and Truces. Yourdefinitions of both are true. Those are matters which I would have you bemaster of; they belong to your future department, But remember too, thatthey are matters upon which you will much oftener have occasion to speakthan to write; and that, consequently, it is full as necessary to speakgracefully and distinctly upon them as to write clearly and elegantly. Ifind no authority among the ancients, nor indeed among the moderns, forindistinct and unintelligible utterance. The Oracles indeed meant to beobscure; but then it was by the ambiguity of the expression, and not bythe inarticulation of the words. For if people had not thought, at least, they understood them, they would neither have frequented nor presentedthem as they did. There was likewise among the ancients, and is stillamong the moderns, a sort of people called Ventriloqui, who speak fromtheir bellies, on make the voice seem to come from some other part of theroom than that where they are. But these Ventriloqui speak verydistinctly and intelligibly. The only thing, then, that I can find like aprecedent for your way of speaking (and I would willingly help you to oneif I could) is the modern art 'de persifler', practiced with greatsuccess by the 'Petits maitres' at Paris. This noble art consists inpicking out some grave, serious man, who neither understands nor expects, raillery, and talking to him very quick, and inarticulate sounds; whilethe man, who thinks that he did not hear well; or attend sufficiently, says, 'Monsieur? or 'Plait-il'? a hundred times; which affords matter ofmuch mirth to those ingenious gentlemen. Whether you would follow, thisprecedent, I submit to you. 

Have you carried no English or French comedies of tragedies with you toLeipsig? If you have, I insist upon your reciting some passages of themevery day to Mr. Harte in the most distinct and graceful manner, as ifyou were acting them upon a stage. 

The first part of my letter is more than an answer to your questionsconcerning Lord Pulteney. 

LETTER XLV

LONDON, July, 20, O. S. 1748

DEAR BOY: There are two sorts of understandings; one of which hinders aman from ever being considerable, and the other commonly makes himridiculous; I mean the lazy mind, and the trifling, frivolous mind:Yours, I hope, is neither. The lazy mind will not take the trouble ofgoing to the bottom of anything; but, discouraged by the firstdifficulties (and everything worth knowing or having is attained withsome), stops short, contents, itself with easy, and consequentlysuperficial knowledge, and prefers a great degree of ignorance to a smalldegree of trouble. These people either think, or represent most things asimpossible; whereas, few things are so to industry and activity. Butdifficulties seem to them, impossibilities, or at least they pretend tothink them so--by way of excuse for their laziness. An hour's attentionto the same subject is too laborious for them; they take everything inthe light in which it first presents itself; never consider, it in allits different views; and, in short, never think it through. Theconsequence of this is that when they come to speak upon these subjects, before people who have considered them with attention; they only discovertheir own ignorance and laziness, and lay themselves open to answers thatput them in confusion. Do not then be discouraged by the firstdifficulties, but 'contra audentior ito'; and resolve to go to the bottomof all those things which every gentleman ought to know well. Those artsor sciences which are peculiar to certain professions, need not be deeplyknown by those who are not intended for those professions. As, forinstance; fortification and navigation; of both which, a superficial andgeneral knowledge, such as the common course of conversation, with a verylittle inquiry on your part, will give you, is sufficient. Though, by theway, 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 scienceoccur frequently in common conversation; and one would be sorry to say, like the Marquis de Mascarille in Moliere's 'Precieuses Ridicules', whenhe hears of 'une demie lune, Ma foi! c'etoit bien une lune touteentiere'. But those things which every gentleman, independently ofprofession, should know, he ought to know well, and dive into all thedepth of them. Such are languages, history, and geography ancient andmodern, philosophy, rational logic; rhetoric; and, for you particularly, the constitutions and the civil and military state of every country inEurope: This, I confess; is a pretty large circle of knowledge, attendedwith some difficulties, and requiring some trouble; which, however; anactive and industrious mind will overcome; and be amply repaid. Thetrifling and frivolous mind is always busied, but to little purpose; ittakes little objects for great ones, and throws away upon trifles thattime and attention which only important things deserve. Knick-knacks;butterflies; shells, insects, etc. , are the subjects of their mostserious researches. They contemplate the dress, not the characters of thecompany they keep. They attend more to the decorations of a play than thesense 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, atmost, three years to employ either well or ill; for, as I have often toldyou, you will be all your life what you shall be three years hence. ForGod's sake then reflect. Will you throw this time away either inlaziness, or in trifles? Or will you not rather employ every moment of itin 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 onlyuseful books; and never quit a subject till you are thoroughly master ofit, but read and inquire on till then. When you are in company, bring theconversation to some useful subject, but 'a portee' of that company. Points of history, matters of literature, the customs of particularcountries, the several orders of knighthood, as Teutonic, Maltese, etc. , are surely better subjects of conversation, than the weather, dress, orfiddle-faddle stories, that carry no information along with them. Thecharacters of kings and great men are only to be learned in conversation;for they are never fairly written during their lives. This, therefore, isan entertaining and instructive subject of conversation, and willlikewise give you an opportunity of observing how very differentlycharacters are given, from the different passions and views of those whogive them. Never be ashamed nor afraid of asking questions: for if theylead to information, and if you accompany them with some excuse, you willnever be reckoned an impertinent or rude questioner. All those things, inthe common course of life, depend entirely upon the manner; and, in thatrespect, the vulgar saying is true, 'That one man can better steal ahorse, than another look over the hedge. ' There are few things that maynot be said, in some manner or other; either in a seeming confidence, ora genteel irony, or introduced with wit; and one great part of theknowledge of the world consists in knowing when and where to make use ofthese different manners. The graces of the person, the countenance, andthe way of speaking, contribute so much to this, that I am convinced, thevery same thing, said by a genteel person in an engaging way, andGRACEFULLY and distinctly spoken, would please, which would shock, ifMUTTERED out by an awkward figure, with a sullen, serious countenance. The poets always represent Venus as attended by the three Graces, tointimate that even beauty will not do without: I think they should havegiven Minerva three also; for without them, I am sure learning is veryunattractive. Invoke them, then, DISTINCTLY, to accompany all your wordsand motions. Adieu. 

P. S. Since I wrote what goes before, I have received your letter, OF NODATE, 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 toit all the military establishments that you can get of other states andkingdoms: the Saxon establishment you may, doubtless, easily find. By theway, do not forget to send me answers to the questions which I sent yousome time ago, concerning both the civil and the ecclesiastical affairsof Saxony. 

Do not mistake me, and think I only mean that you should speak elegantlywith regard to style, and the purity of language; but I mean, that youshould deliver and pronounce what you say gracefully and distinctly; forwhich purpose I will have you frequently read very loud, to Mr. Harte, recite parts of orations, and speak passages of plays; for, without agraceful and pleasing enunciation, all your elegancy of style, inspeaking, is not worth one farthing. 

I am very glad that Mr. Lyttelton approves of my new house, andparticularly of my CANONICAL--[James Brydges, duke of Chandos, built amost magnificent and elegant house at CANNONS, about eight miles fromLondon. It was superbly furnished with fine pictures, statues, etc. , which, after his death, were sold, by auction. Lord Chesterfieldpurchased the hall-pillars, the floor; and staircase with double flights;which are now in Chesterfield House, London. ]--pillars. My bust of Cicerois a very fine one, and well preserved; it will have the best place in mylibrary, unless at your return you bring me over as good a modern head ofyour own, which I should like still better. I can tell you, that I shallexamine 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 fourdays ago. You will easily imagine that I asked him a few questionsconcerning 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 methat your utterance was rapid, thick, and ungraceful. I can add nothingto what I have already said upon this subject; but I can and do repeatthe absolute necessity of speaking distinctly and gracefully, or else ofnot speaking at all, and having recourse to signs. He tells me that youare pretty fat for one of your age: this you should attend to in a properway; for if, while very young; you should grow fat, it would betroublesome, unwholesome, and ungraceful; you should therefore, when youhave time, take very strong exercise, and in your diet avoid fatteningthings. All malt liquors fatten, or at least bloat; and I hope you do notdeal 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 MadameValentin'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 ofATTENTIONS; 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 maybe, manners at least are certainly improved by the company of women offashion. 

I have formerly told you, that you should inform yourself of the severalorders, whether military or religious, of the respective countries whereyou may be. The Teutonic Order is the great Order of Germany, of which Isend you inclosed a short account. It may serve to suggest questions toyou for more particular inquiries as to the present state of it, of whichyou ought to be minutely informed. The knights, at present, make vows, ofwhich they observe none, except it be that of not marrying; and theironly object now is, to arrive, by seniority, at the Commanderies in theirrespective provinces; which are, many of them, very lucrative. The Orderof Malta is, by a very few years, prior to the Teutonic, and owes itsfoundation to the same causes. These' knights were first called KnightsHospitaliers of St. John of Jerusalem, then Knights of Rhodes; and inthe year 1530, Knights of Malta, the Emperor Charles V. Having grantedthem that island, upon condition of their defending his island of Sicilyagainst the Turks, which they effectually did. L'Abbe de Vertot haswritten the history of Malta, but it is the least valuable of all hisworks; and moreover, too long for you to read. But there is a shorthistory, of all the military orders whatsoever, which I would advise youto get, as there is also of all the religious orders; both which areworth your having and consulting, whenever you meet with any of them inyour way; as, you will very frequently in Catholic countries. For my ownpart, I find that I remember things much better, when I recur, to mybooks for them, upon some particular occasion, than by reading them 'toutde suite'. As, for example, if I were to read the history of all themilitary or religious orders, regularly one after another, the latterputs 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, Iremember it much better. It is the same in geography, where, looking forany particular place in the map, upon some particular account, fixes itin 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, itwas thought not only just, but meritorious, to propagate religion by fireand sword, and to take away the lives and properties of unbelievers. This enthusiasm produced the several crusades, in the 11th, 12th, andfollowing centuries, the object of which was, to recover the Holy Landout of, the hands of the Infidels, who, by the way, were the lawfulpossessors. Many honest enthusiasts engaged in those crusades, from amistaken principle of religion, and from the pardons granted by the Popesfor all the sins of those pious adventurers; but many more knaves adoptedthese holy wars, in hopes of conquest and plunder. After Godfrey ofBouillon, at the head of these knaves and fools, had taken Jerusalem, inthe year 1099, Christians of various nations remained in that city; amongthe rest, one good honest German, that took particular care of hiscountrymen who came thither in pilgrimages. He built a house for theirreception, and an hospital dedicated to the Virgin. This littleestablishment soon became a great one, by the enthusiasm of manyconsiderable people who engaged in it, in order to drive the Saracens outof the Holy Land. This society then began to take its first form; and itsmembers were called Marian Teutonic Knights. Marian, from their chapelsacred to the Virgin Mary; Teutonic, from the German, or Teuton, who wasthe author of it, and Knights from the wars which they were to carry onagainst the Infidels. 

These knights behaved themselves so bravely, at first; that DukeFrederick 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 incorporatedinto a regular order of knighthood; which was accordingly done, and rulesand a particular habit were given them. Forty knights, all of noblefamilies, were at first created by the King of Jerusalem and otherprinces then in the army. The first grand master of this order was HenryWallpot, of a noble family upon the Rhine. This order soon began tooperate in Europe; drove all the Pagans out of Prussia, and tookpossession of it. Soon after, they got Livonia and Courland, and invadedeven Russia, where they introduced the Christian religion. In 1510, theyelected Albert, Marquis of Bradenburg, for their grand master, who, turning Protestant, soon afterward took Prussia from the order, and keptit for himself, with the consent of Sigismund, King of Poland, of whom itwas to hold. He then quitted his grand mastership and made himselfhereditary 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, andUtrecht, which eight are of the German jurisdiction. The Dutch nowpossess all that the order had in Utrecht. Every one of the provinceshave their particular Commanderies; and the most ancient of theseCommandeurs is called the Commandeur Provincial. These twelve Commandeursare all subordinate to the Grand Master of Germany as their chief, andhave the right of electing the grand master. The elector of Cologne is atpresent 'Grand Maitre'. 

This order, founded by mistaken Christian zeal, upon the anti-Christianprinciples of violence and persecution, soon grew strong by the weaknessand ignorance of the time; acquired unjustly great possessions, of whichthey justly lost the greatest part by their ambition and cruelty, whichmade them feared and hated by all their neighbors. 

I have this moment received your letter of the 4th, N. S. , and have onlytime to tell you that I can by no means agree to your cutting off yourhair. I am very sure that your headaches cannot proceed from thence. Andas for the pimples upon your head, they are only owing to the heat of theseason, and consequently will not last long. But your own hair is, atyour age, such an ornament, and a wig, however well made, such adisguise, that I will upon no account whatsoever have you cut off yourhair. Nature did not give it to you for nothing, still less to cause youthe headache. Mr. Eliot's hair grew so ill and bushy, that he was in theright 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 Ireturned here, and I can say with truth that while I had the seals, Inever examined or sifted a state prisoner with so much care and curiosityas 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 Ihave 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 tohear of you. I heartily congratulate you upon such an advantageoustestimony, from so creditable a witness. 'Laudati a laudato viro', is oneof the greatest pleasures and honors a rational being can have; may youlong continue to deserve it! Your aversion to drinking and your disliketo gaming, which Mr. Eliot assures me are both very strong, give me, thegreatest joy imaginable, for your sake: as the former would ruin bothyour constitution and understanding, and the latter your fortune andcharacter. Mr. Harte wrote me word some time ago, and Mr. Eliot confirmsit now, that you employ your pin money in a very different manner, fromthat in which pin money is commonly lavished: not in gew-gaws andbaubles, but in buying good and useful books. This is an excellentsymptom, and gives me very good hopes. Go on thus, my dear boy, but forthese next two years, and I ask no more. You must then make such a figureand such a fortune in the world as I wish you, and as I have taken allthese pains to enable you to do. After that time I allow you to be asidle as ever you please; because I am sure that you will not then pleaseto be so at all. The ignorant and the weak are only idle; but those whohave once acquired a good stock of knowledge, always desire to increaseit. Knowledge is like power in this respect, that those who have themost, 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 themyou owe to Mr. Harte's care and attention; and, consequently, that yourregard and affection for him must increase, if there be room for it, inproportion 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 whichyour own witness, Mr. Eliot, faltered; for, upon my questioning him homeas to your manner of speaking, he could not say that your utterance waseither distinct or graceful. I have already said so much to you upon thispoint that I can add nothing. I will therefore only repeat this truth, which is, that if you will not speak distinctly and graceful, nobody willdesire to hear you. I am glad to learn that Abbe Mably's 'Droit Public del'Europe' makes a part of your evening amusements. It is a very usefulbook, and gives a clear deduction of the affairs of Europe, from thetreaty of Munster to this time. Pray read it with attention, and withthe proper maps; always recurring to them for the several countries ortowns yielded, taken, or restored. Pyre Bougeant's third volume will giveyou the best idea of the treaty of Munster, and open to you the severalviews of the belligerent' and contracting parties, and there never weregreater than at that time. The House of Austria, in the war immediatelypreceding that treaty, intended to make itself absolute in the empire, and to overthrow the rights of the respective states of it. The view ofFrance 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 supplythe necessities of its own poor and barren country, but likewise to holdthe balance in the empire between the House of Austria and the States. The House of Brandenburg wanted to aggrandize itself by pilfering in thefire; changed sides occasionally, and made a good bargain at last; for Ithink it got, at the peace, nine or ten bishoprics secularized. So thatwe may date, from the treaty of Munster, the decline of the House ofAustria, the great power of the House of Bourbon, and the aggrandizementof that of Bradenburg: which, I am much mistaken, if it stops where it isnow. 

Make my compliments to Lord Pulteney, to whom I would have you be notonly attentive, but useful, by setting him (in case he wants it) a goodexample of application and temperance. I begin to believe that, as Ishall be proud of you, others will be proud too of imitating you: Thoseexpectations of mine seem now so well grounded, that my disappointment, and consequently my anger, will be so much the greater if they fail; butas 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 ofMunster 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 youread. Many great readers load their memories, without exercising theirjudgments; and make lumber-rooms of their heads instead of furnishingthem 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 forgranted, upon the bare authority of the author; but weigh and consider, in your own mind, the probability of the facts and the justness of thereflections. Consult different authors upon the same facts, and form youropinion upon the greater or lesser degree of probability arising from thewhole, which, in my mind, is the utmost stretch of historical faith;certainty (I fear) not being to be found. When a historian pretends togive you the causes and motives of events, compare those causes andmotives with the characters and interests of the parties concerned, andjudge for yourself whether they correspond or not. Consider whether youcannot assign others more probable; and in that examination, do notdespise some very mean and trifling causes of the actions of great men;for so various and inconsistent is human nature, so strong and changeableare our passions, so fluctuating are our wills, and so much are our mindsinfluenced by the accidents of our bodies that every man is more the manof the day, than a regular consequential character. The best havesomething bad, and something little; the worst have something good, andsometimes something great; for I do not believe what Velleius Paterculus(for the sake of saying a pretty thing) says of Scipio, 'Qui nihil nonlaudandum aut fecit, aut dixit, aut sensit'. As for the reflections ofhistorians, with which they think it necessary to interlard theirhistories, or at least to conclude their chapters (and which, in theFrench histories, are always introduced with a 'tant il est vrai', and inthe English, SO TRUE IT IS), do not adopt them implicitly upon the creditof the author, but analyze them yourself, and judge whether they are trueor not. 

But to return to the politics of France, from which I have digressed. Youhave certainly made one further reflection, of an advantage which Francehas, over and above its abilities in the cabinet and the skill of itsnegotiators, which is (if I may use the expression) its SOLENESS, continuity of riches and power within itself, and the nature of itsgovernment. Near twenty millions of people, and the ordinary revenue ofabove thirteen millions sterling a year, are at the absolute disposal ofthe Crown. This is what no other power in Europe can say; so thatdifferent powers must now unite to make a balance against France; whichunion, though formed upon the principle of their common interest, cannever be so intimate as to compose a machine so compact and simple asthat of one great kingdom, directed by one will, and moved by oneinterest. The Allied Powers (as we have constantly seen) have, besidesthe common and declared object of their alliance, some separate andconcealed view to which they often sacrifice the general one; which makesthem, either directly or indirectly, pull different ways. Thus, thedesign upon Toulon failed in the year 1706, only from the secret view ofthe 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 atToulon. In this last war too, the same causes had the same effects: theQueen of Hungary in secret thought of nothing but recovering of Silesia, and what she had lost in Italy; and, therefore, never sent half thatquota which she promised, and we paid for, into Flanders; but left thatcountry to the maritime powers to defend as they could. The King ofSardinia's real object was Savona and all the Riviera di Ponente; forwhich reason he concurred so lamely in the invasion of Provence, wherethe Queen of Hungary, likewise, did not send one-third of the forcestipulated, engrossed as she was by her oblique views upon the plunder ofGenoa, and the recovery of Naples. Insomuch that the expedition intoProvence, which would have distressed France to the greatest degree, andhave caused a great detachment from their army in Flanders, failedshamefully, for want of every one thing necessary for its success. Suppose, therefore, any four or five powers who, all together, shall beequal, or even a little superior, in riches and strength to that onepower against which they are united; the advantage will still be greatlyon the side of that single power, because it is but one. The power andriches of Charles V. Were, in themselves, certainly superior to those ofFrances I. , and yet, upon the whole, he was not an overmatch for him. Charles V. 's dominions, great as they were, were scattered and remotefrom each other; their constitutions different; wherever he did notreside, disturbances arose; whereas the compactness of France made up thedifference in the strength. This obvious reflection convinced me of theabsurdity of the treaty of Hanover, in 1725, between France and England, to which the Dutch afterward acceded; for it was made upon theapprehensions, either real or pretended, that the marriage of Don Carloswith the eldest archduchess, now Queen of Hungary, was settled in thetreaty of Vienna, of the same year, between Spain and the late EmperorCharles VI. , which marriage, those consummate politicians said wouldrevive in Europe the exorbitant power of Charles V. I am sure, I heartilywish it had; as, in that case, there had been, what there certainly isnot now, one power in Europe to counterbalance that of France; and thenthe maritime powers would, in reality, have held the balance of Europe intheir hands. Even supposing that the Austrian power would then have beenan overmatch for that of France (which, by the way, is not clear), theweight 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 wouldhave been sufficient; whereas now, they are obliged to exhaust and beggarthemselves; and that too ineffectually, in hopes to support theshattered; beggared, and insufficient House of Austria. 

This has been a long political dissertation; but I am informed thatpolitical subjects are your favorite ones; which I am glad of, considering your destination. You do well to get your materials allready, before you begin your work. As you buy and (I am told) read booksof this kind, I will point out two or three for your purchase andperusal; I am not sure that I have not mentioned them before, but that isno matter, if you have not got them. 'Memoires pour servir a l'Histoiredu 17ieme Siecle', is a most useful book for you to recur to for all thefacts and chronology of that country: it is in four volumes octavo, andvery correct and exact. If I do not mistake, I have formerly recommendedto you, 'Les Memoires du Cardinal de Retz'; however, if you have not yetread them, pray do, and with the attention which they deserve. You willthere find the best account of a very interesting period of the minorityof Lewis XIV. The characters are drawn short, but in a strong andmasterly manner; and the political reflections are the only just andpractical ones that I ever saw in print: they are well worth yourtranscribing. 'Le Commerce des Anciens, par Monsieur Huet. Evequed'Avranche', in one little volume octavo, is worth your perusal, ascommerce is a very considerable part of political knowledge. I need not, I am sure, suggest to you, when you read the course of commerce, eitherof the ancients or of the moderns, to follow it upon your map; for thereis no other way of remembering geography correctly, but by lookingperpetually in the map for the places one reads of, even though one knowsbefore, 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 thelittle time that you have applied yourself to that language. As you havenow got over the most difficult part, pray go on diligently, and makeyourself absolutely master of the rest. Whoever does not entirely possessa language, will never appear to advantage, or even equal to himself, either in speaking or writing it. His ideas are fettered, and seemimperfect or confused, if he is not master of all the words and phrasesnecessary to express them. I therefore desire, that you will not failwriting a German letter once every fortnight to Mr. Gravenkop; which willmake the writing of that language familiar to you; and moreover, when youshall have left Germany and be arrived at Turin, I shall require you towrite even to me in German; that you may not forget with ease what youhave with difficulty learned. I likewise desire, that while you are inGermany, you will take all opportunities of conversing in German, whichis the only way of knowing that, or any other language, accurately. Youwill also desire your German master to teach you the proper titles andsuperscriptions to be used to people of all ranks; which is a point somaterial, 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 toBerlin; and I take it for granted, that if anything is yet wanting tocomplete your knowledge of the state of that electorate, you will notfail to procure it before you go away. I do not mean, as you will easilybelieve, the number of churches, parishes, or towns; but I mean theconstitution, the revenues, the troops, and the trade of that electorate. A few questions, sensibly asked, of sensible people, will produce you thenecessary informations; which I desire you will enter in your littlebook, Berlin will be entirely a new scene to you, and I look upon it, ina manner, as your first step into the great world; take care that step benot a false one, and that you do not stumble at the threshold. You willthere be in more company than you have yet been; manners and attentionswill therefore be more necessary. Pleasing in company is the only way ofbeing pleased in it yourself. Sense and knowledge are the first andnecessary foundations for pleasing in company; but they will by no meansdo alone, and they will never be perfectly welcome if they are notaccompanied with manners and attentions. You will best acquire these byfrequenting the companies of people of fashion; but then you must resolveto acquire them, in those companies, by proper care and observation; forI have known people, who, though they have frequented good company alltheir lifetime, have done it in so inattentive and unobserving a manner, as to be never the better for it, and to remain as disagreeable, asawkward, 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 thefirst 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 willthen know what to bait your hook with to catch them. Man is a compositionof so many, and such various ingredients, that it requires both time andcare to analyze him: for though we have all the same ingredients in ourgeneral composition, as reason, will, passions, and appetites; yet thedifferent proportions and combinations of them in each individual, produce that infinite variety of characters, which, in some particular orother, distinguishes every individual from another. Reason ought todirect the whole, but seldom does. And he who addresses himself singly toanother man's reason, without endeavoring to engage his heart in hisinterest also, is no more likely to succeed, than a man who should applyonly to a king's nominal minister, and neglect his favorite. I willrecommend to your attentive perusal, now that you are going into theworld, 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 laRochefoucault, and Les Caracteres de la Bruyere': but remember, at thesame time, that I only recommend them to you as the best general maps toassist you in your journey, and not as marking out every particularturning and winding that you will meet with. There your own sagacity andobservation must come to their aid. La Rochefoucault, is, I know, blamed, but I think without reason, for deriving all our actions from the sourceof self-love. For my own part, I see a great deal of truth, and no harmat all, in that opinion. It is certain that we seek our own happiness ineverything we do; and it is as certain, that we can only find it in doingwell, 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 isa blamable motive, when we take the immediate and indiscriminategratification of a passion, or appetite, for real happiness. But am Iblamable if I do a good action, upon account of the happiness which thathonest consciousness will give me? Surely not. On the contrary, thatpleasing consciousness is a proof of my virtue. The reflection which isthe most censured in Monsieur de la Rochefoucault's book as a veryill-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 avery tender and real concern for the misfortune of my friend, and yet atthe same time feel a pleasing consciousness at having discharged my dutyto him, by comforting and assisting him to the utmost of my power in thatmisfortune? Give me but virtuous actions, and I will not quibble andchicane about the motives. And I will give anybody their choice of thesetwo truths, which amount to the same thing: He who loves himself best isthe honestest man; or, The honestest man loves himself best. 

The characters of La Bruyere are pictures from the life; most of themfinely drawn, and highly colored. Furnish your mind with them first, andwhen you meet with their likeness, as you will every day, they willstrike you the more. You will compare every feature with the original;and both will reciprocally help you to discover the beauties and theblemishes. 

As women are a considerable, or, at least a pretty numerous part ofcompany; and as their suffrages go a great way toward establishing aman's character in the fashionable part of the world (which is of greatimportance to the fortune and figure he proposes to make in it), it isnecessary to please them. I will therefore, upon this subject, let youinto certain Arcana that will be very useful for you to know, but whichyou must, with the utmost care, conceal and never seem to know. Women, then, are only children of a larger growth; they have an entertainingtattle, and sometimes wit; but for solid reasoning, good sense, I neverknew in my life one that had it, or who reasoned or acted consequentiallyfor four-and-twenty hours together. Some little passion or humor alwaysbreaks upon their best resolutions. Their beauty neglected orcontroverted, their age increased, or their supposed understandingsdepreciated, instantly kindles their little passions, and overturns anysystem of consequential conduct, that in their most reasonable momentsthey might have been capable of forming. A man of sense only trifles withthem, plays with them, humors and flatters them, as he does with asprightly forward child; but he neither consults them about, nor truststhem with serious matters; though he often makes them believe that hedoes both; which is the thing in the world that they are proud of; forthey love mightily to be dabbling in business (which by the way theyalways spoil); and being justly distrustful that men in general look uponthem in a trifling light, they almost adore that man who talks moreseriously to them, and who seems to consult and trust them; I say, whoseems; for weak men really do, but wise ones only seem to do it. Noflattery is either too high or too low for them. They will greedilyswallow the highest, and gratefully accept of the lowest; and you maysafely flatter any woman from her understanding down to the exquisitetaste of her fan. Women who are either indisputably beautiful, orindisputably ugly, are best flattered, upon the score of theirunderstandings; but those who are in a state of mediocrity, are bestflattered upon their beauty, or at least their graces; for every womanwho is not absolutely ugly thinks herself handsome; but not hearing oftenthat she is so, is the more grateful and the more obliged to the few whotell her so; whereas a decided and conscious beauty looks upon everytribute paid to her beauty only as her due; but wants to shine, and to beconsidered on the side of her understanding; and a woman who is uglyenough to know that she is so, knows that she has nothing left for it buther understanding, which is consequently and probably (in more sensesthan one) her weak side. But these are secrets which you must keepinviolably, if you would not, like Orpheus, be torn to pieces by thewhole sex; on the contrary, a man who thinks of living in the greatworld, must be gallant, polite, and attentive to please the women. Theyhave, from the weakness of men, more or less influence in all courts;they absolutely stamp every man's character in the beau monde, and makeit either current, or cry it down, and stop it in payments. It is, therefore; absolutely necessary to manage, please, and flatter them andnever to discover the least marks of contempt, which is what they neverforgive; 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 isnot ambitious, or courteous, or passionate; but every man has prideenough in his composition to feel and resent the least slight andcontempt. Remember, therefore, most carefully to conceal your contempt, however just, wherever you would not make an implacable enemy. Men aremuch more unwilling to have their weaknesses and their imperfectionsknown than their crimes; and if you hint to a man that you think himsilly, ignorant, or even ill-bred, or awkward, he will hate you more andlonger, than if you tell him plainly, that you think him a rogue. Neveryield to that temptation, which to most young men is very strong; ofexposing other people's weaknesses and infirmities, for the sake eitherof diverting the company, or showing your own superiority. You may getthe laugh on your side by it for the present; but you will make enemiesby it forever; and even those who laugh with you then, will, uponreflection, fear; and consequently hate you; besides that it isill-natured, and a good heart desires rather to conceal than expose otherpeople'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 worldenables me to give you; and which, if you attend to them, may proveuseful to you in your journey through it. I wish it may be a prosperousone; 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 notwell. 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 theCardinal de Retz, and to attend particularly to the political reflectionsinterspersed in that excellent work. I will now preach a little upon twoor three of those texts. 

In the disturbances at Paris, Monsieur de Beaufort, who was a verypopular, though a very weak man, was the Cardinal's tool with thepopulace. 

Proud of his popularity, he was always for assembling the people of Paristogether, thinking that he made a great figure at the head of them. TheCardinal, who was factious enough, was wise enough at the same time toavoid gathering the people together, except when there was occasion, andwhen he had something particular for them to do. However, he could notalways check Monsieur de Beaufort; who having assembled them once veryunnecessarily, and without any determined object, they ran riot, wouldnot be kept within bounds by their leaders, and did their cause a greatdeal of harm: upon which the Cardinal observes most judiciously, 'QueMonsieur de Beaufort me savoit pas, que qui assemble le peuple, l'emeut'. It is certain, that great numbers of people met together, animate eachother, and will do something, either good or bad, but oftener bad; andthe respective individuals, who were separately very quiet, when mettogether in numbers, grow tumultuous as a body, and ripe for any mischiefthat may be pointed out to them by the leaders; and, if their leadershave no business for them, they will find some for themselves. Thedemagogues, or leaders of popular factions, should therefore be verycareful not to assemble the people unnecessarily, and without a settledand well-considered object. Besides that, by making those popularassemblies too frequent, they make them likewise too familiar, andconsequently less respected by their enemies. Observe any meetings ofpeople, and you will always find their eagerness and impetuosity rise orfall in proportion to their numbers: when the numbers are very great, allsense 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 thingswhich happen in our own times, and which we see ourselves, do notsurprise 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 ispersuaded that when Caligula made his horse a Consul, the people of Rome, at that time, were not greatly surprised at it, having necessarily beenin some degree prepared for it, by an insensible gradation ofextravagances from the same quarter. This is so true that we read everyday, with astonishment, things which we see every day without surprise. We wonder at the intrepidity of a Leonidas, a Codrus, and a Curtius; andare not the least surprised to hear of a sea-captain, who has blown uphis ship, his crew, and himself, that they might not fall into the handsof the enemies of his country. I cannot help reading of Porsenna andRegulus, with surprise and reverence, and yet I remember that I saw, without either, the execution of Shepherd, --[James Shepherd, acoach-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, ifhe would have expressed the least sorrow for his intended crime; but, onthe contrary, he declared that if he was pardoned he would attempt itagain; that he thought it a duty which he owed to his country, and thathe died with pleasure for having endeavored to perform it. Reason equalsShepherd to Regulus; but prejudice, and the recency of the fact, makeShepherd a common malefactor and Regulus a hero. 

Examine carefully, and reconsider all your notions of things; analyzethem, and discover their component parts, and see if habit and prejudiceare not the principal ones; weigh the matter upon which you are to formyour opinion, in the equal and impartial scales of reason. It is not tobe conceived how many people, capable of reasoning, if they would, liveand die in a thousand errors, from laziness; they will rather adopt theprejudices of others, than give themselves the trouble of formingopinions of their own. They say things, at first, because other peoplehave said them, and then they persist in them, because they have saidthem themselves. 

The last observation that I shall now mention of the Cardinal's is, "Thata secret is more easily kept by a good many people, than one commonlyimagines. " By this he means a secret of importance, among peopleinterested in the keeping of it. And it is certain that people ofbusiness know the importance of secrecy, and will observe it, where theyare 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 themsuch an unretentive weakness, as must convince them that you will tell itto twenty others, and consequently that they may reveal it without therisk of being discovered. But a secret properly communicated only tothose who are to be concerned in the thing in question, will probably bekept by them though they should be a good many. Little secrets arecommonly 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 Itake to be the forerunner of a larger work that you intend to give thepublic, containing a general account of all the religious and militaryorders of Europe. Seriously, you will do well to have a general notion ofall those orders, ancient and modern; both as they are frequently thesubjects of conversation, and as they are more or less interwoven withthe histories of those times. Witness the Teutonic Order, which, as soonas it gained strength, began its unjust depredations in Germany, andacquired such considerable possessions there; and the Order of Maltaalso, which continues to this day its piracies upon the Infidels. Besidesone can go into no company in Germany, without running against Monsieurle Chevalier, or Monsieur le Commandeur de l' Ordre Teutonique. It is thesame 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 Chevaliersor Commandeurs, who talk of their 'Preuves', their 'Langues', their'Caravanes', etc. , of all which things I am sure you would not willinglybe ignorant. On the other hand, I do not mean that you should have aprofound and minute knowledge of these matters, which are of a naturethat a general knowledge of them is fully sufficient. I would notrecommend you to read Abbe Vertot's "History of the Order of Malta, " infour quarto volumes; that would be employing a great deal of good timevery ill. But I would have you know the foundations, the objects, theINSIGNIA, and the short general history of them all. 

As for the ancient religious military orders, which were chiefly foundedin the eleventh and twelfth centuries, such as Malta, the Teutonic, theKnights Templars, etc. , the injustice and the wickedness of thoseestablishments cannot, I am sure, have escaped your observation. Theirpious object was, to take away by force other people's property, and tomassacre the proprietors themselves if they refused to give up thatproperty, and adopt the opinions of these invaders. What right orpretense had these confederated Christians of Europe to the Holy Land?Let them produce their grant of it in the Bible. Will they say, that theSaracens had possessed themselves of it by force, and that, consequently, they had the same right? Is it lawful then to steal goods because theywere stolen before? Surely not. The truth is, that the wickedness ofmany, and the weakness of more, in those ages of ignorance andsuperstition, concurred to form those flagitious conspiracies against thelives and properties of unoffending people. The Pope sanctified thevillany, and annexed the pardon of sins to the perpetration of it. Thisgave rise to the Crusaders, and carried such swarms of people from Europeto the conquests of the Holy Land. Peter the Hermit, an active andambitious priest, by his indefatigable pains, was the immediate author ofthe 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 forkingdoms; the greedy and the necessitous for plunder; and some wereenthusiasts enough to hope for salvation, by the destruction of aconsiderable number of their fellow creatures, who had done them noinjury. I cannot omit, upon this occasion, telling you that the Easternemperors at Constantinople (who, as Christians, were obliged at least toseem to favor these expeditions), seeing the immense numbers of the'Croisez', and fearing that the Western Empire might have some mind tothe 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 destroyedinfinite numbers of them. 

The later orders of knighthood, such as the Garter in England; theElephant in Denmark; the Golden Fleece in Burgundy; the St. Esprit, St. Michel, St. Louis, and St. Lazare, in France etc. , are of a verydifferent nature and were either the invitations to, or the rewards of;brave actions in fair war; and are now rather the decorations of thefavor of the prince, than the proofs of the merit of the subject. However, they are worth your inquiries to a certain degree, andconversation will give you frequent opportunities for them. Wherever youare, I would advise you to inquire into the respective orders of thatcountry, and to write down a short account of them. For example, whileyou are in Saxony, get an account of l'Aigle Blanc and of what otherorders there may be, either Polish or Saxon; and, when you shall be atBerlin, inform yourself of three orders, l'Aigle Noir, la Generosite etle Vrai Merite, which are the only ones that I know of there. Butwhenever you meet with straggling ribands and stars, as you will with athousand in Germany, do not fail to inquire what they are, and to take aminute of them in your memorandum book; for it is a sort of knowledgethat costs little to acquire, and yet it is of some use. Young peoplehave frequently an incuriousness about them, arising either fromlaziness, or a contempt of the object, which deprives them of severalsuch little parts of knowledge, that they afterward wish they hadacquired. If you will put conversation to profit, great knowledge may begained by it; and is it not better (since it is full as easy) to turn itupon useful than upon useless subjects? People always talk best upon whatthey know most, and it is both pleasing them and improving one's self, toput them upon that subject. With people of a particular profession, or ofa distinguished eminency in any branch of learning, one is not at a loss;but with those, whether men or women, who properly constitute what iscalled the beau monde, one must not choose deep subjects, nor hope to getany knowledge above that of orders, ranks, families, and court anecdotes;which are therefore the proper (and not altogether useless) subjects ofthat kind of conversation. Women, especially, are to be talked to asbelow men and above children. If you talk to them too deep, you onlyconfound them, and lose your own labor; if you talk to them toofrivolously, they perceive and resent the contempt. The proper tone forthem is, what the French call the 'Entregent', and is, in truth, thepolite jargon of good company. Thus, if you are a good chemist, you mayextract something out of everything. 

A propos of the beau monde, I must again and again recommend the Gracesto you: There is no doing without them in that world; and, to make a goodfigure in that world, is a great step toward making one in the world ofbusiness, particularly that part of it for which you are destined. Anungraceful manner of speaking, awkward motions, and a disagreeableaddress, are great clogs to the ablest man of business, as the oppositequalifications are of infinite advantage to him. I am told there is avery good dancing-master at Leipsig. I would have you dance a minuet verywell, not so much for the sake of the minuet itself (though that, ifdanced at all, ought to be danced, well), as that it will give you ahabitual genteel carriage and manner of presenting yourself. 

Since I am upon little things, I must mention another, which, thoughlittle enough in itself, yet as it occurs at, least once in every day, deserves some attention; I mean Carving. Do you use yourself to carveADROITLY and genteelly, without hacking half an hour across a bone;without bespattering the company with the sauce; and without overturningthe glasses into your neighbor's pockets? These awkwardnesses areextremely disagreeable; and, if often repeated, bring ridicule. They arevery 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 thinknothing above or below my pointing out to you, or your excelling in. Youhave the means of doing it, and time before you to make use of them. Takemy 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, forthe next two or three years, will save you infinite trouble and endlessregrets hereafter. May you, in the whole course of your life, have noreason 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 itis not exactly the same Latin that Caesar, Cicero, Horace, Virgil, andOvid spoke, is, however, as good Latin as the erudite Germans speak orwrite. I have always observed that the most learned people, that is, those who have read the most Latin, write the worst; and thatdistinguishes the Latin of gentleman scholar from that of a pedant. Agentleman has, probably, read no other Latin than that of the Augustanage; and therefore can write no other, whereas the pedant has read muchmore bad Latin than good, and consequently writes so too. He looks uponthe best classical books, as books for school-boys, and consequentlybelow him; but pores over fragments of obscure authors, treasures up theobsolete words which he meets with there, and uses them upon alloccasions to show his reading at the expense of his judgment. Plautus ishis favorite author, not for the sake of the wit and the vis comica ofhis comedies, but upon account of the many obsolete words, and the cantof low characters, which are to be met with nowhere else. He will ratheruse 'olli' than 'illi', 'optume' than 'optima', and any bad word ratherthan any good one, provided he can but prove, that strictly speaking, itis Latin; that is, that it was written by a Roman. By this rule, I mightnow write to you in the language of Chaucer or Spenser, and assert that Iwrote English, because it was English in their days; but I should be amost affected puppy if I did so, and you would not understand three wordsof my letter. All these, and such like affected peculiarities, are thecharacteristics of learned coxcombs and pedants, and are carefullyavoided 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 notremember ever to have met with before. It is the adverb 'praefiscine', which means, IN A GOOD HOUR; an expression which, by the superstition ofit, appears to be low and vulgar. I looked for it: and at last I foundthat it is once or twice made use of in Plautus, upon the strength ofwhich this learned pedant thrusts it into his preface. Whenever you writeLatin, remember that every word or phrase which you make use of, butcannot 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 Iconfess there is one doctrine laid down that surprises me: It is this, 'Quum vero hostis sit lenta citave morte omnia dira nobis minitansquocunque bellantibus negotium est; parum sane interfuerit quo modo eumobruere et interficere satagamus, si ferociam exuere cunctetur. Ergoveneno quoque uti fas est', etc. , whereas I cannot conceive that the useof poison can, upon any account, come within the lawful means ofself-defense. Force may, without doubt, be justly repelled by force, butnot by treachery and fraud; for I do not call the stratagems of war, suchas ambuscades, masked batteries, false attacks, etc. , frauds ortreachery: They are mutually to be expected and guarded against; butpoisoned arrows, poisoned waters, or poison administered to your enemy(which can only be done by treachery), I have always heard, read, andthought, to be unlawful and infamous means of defense, be your dangerever so great: But 'si ferociam exuere cunctetur'; must I rather die thanpoison this enemy? Yes, certainly, much rather die than do a base orcriminal action; nor can I be sure, beforehand, that this enemy may not, in the last moment, 'ferociam exuere'. But the public lawyers, now, seemto me rather to warp the law, in order to authorize, than to check, thoseunlawful proceedings of princes and states; which, by being becomecommon, appear less criminal, though custom can never alter the nature ofgood and ill. 

Pray let no quibbles of lawyers, no refinements of casuists, break intothe plain notions of right and wrong, which every man's right reason andplain common sense suggest to him. To do as you would be done by, is theplain, sure, and undisputed rule of morality and justice. Stick to that;and be convinced that whatever breaks into it, in any degree, howeverspeciously it may be turned, and however puzzling it may be to answer it, is, notwithstanding, false in itself, unjust, and criminal. I do not knowa crime in the world, which is not by the casuists among the Jesuits(especially the twenty-four collected, I think, by Escobar) allowed, insome, or many cases, not to be criminal. The principles first laid downby them are often specious, the reasonings plausible, but the conclusionalways a lie: for it is contrary, to that evident and undeniable rule ofjustice which I have mentioned above, of not doing to anyone what youwould not have him do to you. But, however, these refined pieces ofcasuistry and sophistry, being very convenient and welcome to people'spassions and appetites, they gladly accept the indulgence, withoutdesiring to detect the fallacy or the reasoning: and indeed many, I mightsay most people, are not able to do it; which makes the publication ofsuch quibblings and refinements the more pernicious. I am no skillfulcasuist nor subtle disputant; and yet I would undertake to justify andqualify 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 ofknowledge, 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 certainplain truths, obvious in gross to every understanding, in order to runafter the ingenious refinements of warm imaginations and speculativereasonings. Doctor Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, a very worthy, ingenious, and learned man, has written a book, to prove that there is no such thingas matter, and that nothing exists but in idea: that you and I only fancyourselves eating, drinking, and sleeping; you at Leipsig, and I atLondon: that we think we have flesh and blood, legs, arms, etc. , but thatwe are only spirit. His arguments are, strictly speaking, unanswerable;but yet I am so far from being convinced by them, that I am determined togo 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 asgood plight as possible. Common sense (which, in truth, very uncommon) isthe best sense I know of: abide by it, it will counsel you best. Read andhear, for your amusement, ingenious systems, nice questions subtillyagitated, with all the refinements that warm imaginations suggest; butconsider them only as exercitations for the mind, and turn always tosettle with common sense. 

I stumbled, the other day, at a bookseller's, upon "Comte Gabalis, " intwo very little volumes, which I had formerly read. I read it over again, and with fresh astonishment. Most of the extravagances are taken from theJewish Rabbins, who broached those wild notions, and delivered them inthe unintelligible jargon which the Caballists and Rosicrucians deal into this day. Their number is, I believe, much lessened, but there arestill some; and I myself have known two; who studied and firmly believedin that mystical nonsense. What extravagancy is not man capable ofentertaining, when once his shackled reason is led in triumph by fancyand prejudice! The ancient alchemists give very much into this stuff, bywhich they thought they should discover the philosopher's stone; and someof the most celebrated empirics employed it in the pursuit of theuniversal medicine. Paracelsus, a bold empiric and wild Caballist, asserted that he had discovered it, and called it his 'Alkahest'. Why orwherefore, God knows; only that those madmen call nothing by anintelligible 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 befamiliar conversations, between absent friends. As I desire to live withyou upon the footing of an intimate friend, and not of a parent, I couldwish that your letters gave me more particular accounts of yourself, andof your lesser transactions. When you write to me, suppose yourselfconversing freely with me by the fireside. In that case, you wouldnaturally mention the incidents of the day; as where you had been, whoyou 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 youin your letters. How do you go on with Lord Pulteney, and how does he goon at Leipsig? Has he learning, has he parts, has he application? Is hegood or ill-natured? In short, What is he? at least, what do you thinkhim? You may tell me without reserve, for I promise you secrecy. You arenow of an age that I am desirous to begin a confidential correspondencewith you; and as I shall, on my part, write you very freely my opinionupon men and things, which I should often be very unwilling that anybodybut you and Mr. Harte should see, so, on your part, if you write mewithout reserve, you may depend upon my inviolable secrecy. If you haveever looked into the "Letters" of Madame de Sevigne to her daughter, Madame de Grignan, you must have observed the ease, freedom, andfriendship of that correspondence; and yet, I hope and I believe, thatthey did not love one another better than we do. Tell me what books youare now reading, either by way of study or amusement; how you pass yourevenings when at home, and where you pass them when abroad. I know thatyou go sometimes to Madame Valentin's assembly; What do you do there? Doyou play, or sup, or is it only 'la belle conversation?' Do you mind yourdancing while your dancing-master is with you? As you will be often underthe 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, andthe putting on and pulling off your hat genteelly, are the material partsof a gentleman's dancing. But the greatest advantage of dancing well is, that it necessarily teaches you to present yourself, to sit, stand, andwalk, 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, asyou will be in a great deal of good company, I would have you have theright manners for it. It is a very considerable article to have 'le tonde la bonne compagnie', in your destination particularly. The principalbusiness of a foreign minister is, to get into the secrets, and to knowall 'les allures' of the courts at which he resides; this he can neverbring about but by such a pleasing address, such engaging manners, andsuch an insinuating behavior, as may make him sought for, and in somemeasure 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 theconfidences made him, or by the carelessness of people in his company, who are accustomed to look upon him as one of them, and consequently arenot upon their guard before him. For a minister who only goes to thecourt he resides at, in form, to ask an audience of the prince or theminister upon his last instructions, puts them upon their guard, and willnever 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'swife or mistress, may give great and useful informations; and are veryapt 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 asort of men so like women, that they are to be taken just in the sameway; I mean those who are commonly called FINE MEN; who swarm at allcourts; who have little reflection, and less knowledge; but, who by theirgood breeding, and 'train-tran' of the world, are admitted into allcompanies; and, by the imprudence or carelessness of their superiors, pick up secrets worth knowing, which are easily got out of them by properaddress. Adieu. 

LETTER LIII

BATH, October 12, O. S. 1748. 

DEAR BOY: I came here three days ago upon account of a disorder in mystomach, which affected my head and gave me vertigo. I already findmyself something better; and consequently do not doubt but that thecourse of these waters will set me quite right. But however and whereverI am, your welfare, your character, your knowledge, and your morals, employ my thoughts more than anything that can happen to me, or that Ican fear or hope for myself. I am going off the stage, you are comingupon it; with me what has been, has been, and reflection now would cometoo late; with you everything is to come, even, in some manner, reflection itself; so that this is the very time when my reflections, theresult of experience, may be of use to you, by supplying the want ofyours. As soon as you leave Leipsig, you will gradually be going into thegreat world; where the first impressions that you shall give of yourselfwill be of great importance to you; but those which you shall receivewill be decisive, for they always stick. To keep good company, especiallyat your first setting out, is the way to receive good impressions. If youask me what I mean by good company, I will confess to you that it ispretty difficult to define; but I will endeavor to make you understand itas well as I can. 

Good company is not what respective sets of company are pleased either tocall or think themselves, but it is that company which all the people ofthe place call, and acknowledge to be, good company, notwithstanding someobjections which they may form to some of the individuals who compose it. It consists chiefly (but by no means without exception) of people ofconsiderable birth, rank, and character; for people of neither birth norrank are frequently, and very justly admitted into it, if distinguishedby any peculiar merit, or eminency in any liberal art or science. Nay, somotly a thing is good company, that many people, without birth, rank, ormerit, intrude into it by their own forwardness, and others slide into itby the protection of some considerable person; and some even ofindifferent characters and morals make part of it. But in the main, thegood part preponderates, and people of infamous and blasted charactersare never admitted. In this fashionable good company, the best mannersand the best language of the place are most unquestionably to be learned;for they establish and give the tone to both, which are therefore calledthe language and manners of good company: there being no legal tribunalto ascertain either. 

A company, consisting wholly of people of the first quality, cannot, forthat reason, be called good company, in the common acceptation of thephrase, unless they are, into the bargain, the fashionable and accreditedcompany of the place; for people of the very first quality can be assilly, as ill-bred, and as worthless, as people of the meanest degree. Onthe other hand, a company consisting entirely of people of very lowcondition, whatever their merit or parts may be, can never be called goodcompany; and consequently should not be much frequented, though by nomeans despised. 

A company wholly composed of men of learning, though greatly to be valuedand respected, is not meant by the words GOOD COMPANY; they cannot havethe 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 rightto be in it sometimes, and you will be but more esteemed in othercompanies, for having a place in that. But then do not let it engrossyou; 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 theworld. 

The company of professed wits and pests is extremely inviting to mostyoung men; who if they have wit themselves, are pleased with it, and ifthey have none, are sillily proud of being one of it: but it should befrequented with moderation and judgment, and you should by no means giveyourself up to it. A wit is a very unpopular denomination, as it carriesterror along with it; and people in general are as much afraid of a livewit, in company, as a woman is of a gun, which she thinks may go off ofitself, and do her a mischief. Their acquaintance is, however, worthseeking, and their company worth frequenting; but not exclusively ofothers, nor to such a degree as to be considered only as one of thatparticular set. 

But the company, which of all others you should most carefully avoid, isthat low company, which, in every sense of the word, is low indeed; lowin rank, low in parts, low in manners, and low in merit. You will, perhaps, be surprised that I should think it necessary to warn youagainst such company, but yet I do not think it wholly, unnecessary, fromthe 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, belowhimself, for the sake of being the first man in it. There he dictates, isapplauded, admired; and, for the sake of being the Coryphceus of thatwretched chorus, disgraces and disqualifies himself soon for any bettercompany. Depend upon it, you will sink or rise to the level of thecompany which you commonly keep: people will judge of you, and notunreasonably, by that. There is good sense in the Spanish saying, "Tellme whom you live with, and I will tell you who you are. " Make ittherefore your business, wherever you are, to get into that company whicheverybody 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. Buthere, too, one caution is very necessary, for want of which many youngmen have been ruined, even in good company. 

Good company (as I have before observed) is composed of a great varietyof fashionable people, whose characters and morals are very different, though their manners are pretty much the same. When a young man, new inthe world, first gets into that company, he very rightly determines toconform to, and imitate it. But then he too often, and fatally, mistakesthe objects of his imitation. He has often heard that absurd term ofgenteel and fashionable vices. He there sees some people who shine, andwho in general are admired and esteemed; and observes that these peopleare whoremasters, drunkards, or gamesters, upon which he adopts theirvices, mistaking their defects for their perfections, and thinking thatthey owe their fashions and their luster to those genteel vices. Whereasit is exactly the reverse; for these people have acquired theirreputation by their parts, their learning, their good-breeding, and otherreal accomplishments: and are only blemished and lowered, in the opinionsof all reasonable people, and of their own, in time, by these genteel andfashionable vices. A whoremaster, in a flux, or without a nose, is a verygenteel person, indeed, and well worthy of imitation. A drunkard, vomiting up at night the wine of the day, and stupefied by the headacheall 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 inthe world, is surely a most amiable character. No; these are alloys, andgreat ones too, which can never adorn any character, but will alwaysdebase the best. To prove this, suppose any man, without parts and someother good qualities, to be merely a whoremaster, a drunkard, or agamester; how will he be looked upon by all sorts of people? Why, as amost contemptible and vicious animal. Therefore it is plain, that inthese mixed characters, the good part only makes people forgive, but notapprove, 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 contentwith your own, and to adopt no other body's. 

The adoption of vice has, I am convinced, ruined ten times more young menthan natural inclinations. 

As I make no difficulty of confessing my past errors, where I think theconfession may be of use to you, I will own that when I first went to theuniversity, I drank and smoked, notwithstanding the aversion I had towine and tobacco, only because I thought it genteel, and that it made melook like a man. When I went abroad, I first went to The Hague, wheregaming was much in fashion, and where I observed that many people ofshining rank and character gamed too. I was then young enough, and sillyenough, to believe that gaming was one of their accomplishments; and, asI aimed at perfection, I adopted gaming as a necessary step to it. Thus Iacquired by error the habit of a vice which, far from adorning mycharacter, has, I am conscious, been a great blemish in it. 

Imitate then, with discernment and judgment, the real perfections of thegood company into which you may get; copy their politeness, theircarriage, their address, and the easy and well-bred turn of theirconversation; but remember that, let them shine ever so bright, theirvices, if they have any, are so many spots which you would no moreimitate, than you would make an artificial wart upon your face, becausesome 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 withoutit. 

Having thus confessed some of my 'egaremens', I will now show you alittle of my right side. I always endeavored to get into the best companywherever I was, and commonly succeeded. There I pleased to some degree byshowing 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 evenlooked, in company; I never failed in the minutest attentions and wasnever 'journalier'. These things, and not my 'egaremens', made mefashionable. 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 shouldkeep, I will now give you some rules for your conduct in it; rules whichmy own experience and observation enable me to lay down, and communicateto you, with some degree of confidence. I have often given you hints ofthis kind before, but then it has been by snatches; I will now be moreregular and methodical. I shall say nothing with regard to your bodilycarriage and address, but leave them to the care of your dancing-master, and to your own attention to the best models; remember, however, thatthey are of consequence. 

Talk often, but never long: in that case, if you do not please, at leastyou are sure not to tire your hearers. Pay your own reckoning, but do nottreat the whole company; this being one of the very few cases in whichpeople do not care to be treated, everyone being fully convinced that hehas wherewithal to pay. 

Tell stories very seldom, and absolutely never but where they are veryapt and very short. Omit every circumstance that is not material, andbeware of digressions. To have frequent recourse to narrative betraysgreat 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 yourtongue 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 nextneighbor) to whisper, or at least in a half voice, to convey a continuityof words to. This is excessively ill-bred, and in some degree a fraud;conversation-stock being a joint and common property. But, on the otherhand, if one of these unmerciful talkers lays hold of you, hear him withpatience (and at least seeming attention), if he is worth obliging; fornothing will oblige him more than a patient hearing, as nothing wouldhurt him more than either to leave him in the midst of his discourse, orto discover your impatience under your affliction. 

Take, rather than give, the tone of the company you are in. If you haveparts, you will show them, more or less, upon every subject; and if youhave not, you had better talk sillily upon a subject of other people'sthan of your own choosing. 

Avoid as much as you can, in mixed companies, argumentative, polemicalconversations; which, though they should not, yet certainly do, indisposefor a time the contending parties toward each other; and, if thecontroversy grows warm and noisy, endeavor to put an end to it by somegenteel levity or joke. I quieted such a conversation-hubbub once, byrepresenting to them that, though I was persuaded none there presentwould repeat, out of company, what passed in it, yet I could not answerfor the discretion of the passengers in the street, who must necessarilyhear all that was said. 

Above all things, and upon all occasions, avoid speaking of yourself, ifit be possible. Such is the natural pride and vanity of our hearts, thatit perpetually breaks out, even in people of the best parts, in all thevarious modes and figures of the egotism. 

Some, abruptly, speak advantageously of themselves, without eitherpretense or provocation. They are impudent. Others proceed more artfully, as they imagine; and forge accusations against themselves, complain ofcalumnies which they never heard, in order to justify themselves, byexhibiting a catalogue of their many virtues. They acknowledge it may, indeed, seem odd that they should talk in that manner of themselves; itis what they do not like, and what they never would have done; no; notortures should ever have forced it from them, if they had, not been thusunjustly and monstrously accused. But, in these cases; justice is surelydue to one's self, as well as to others; and when our character isattacked, we may say in our own justification, what otherwise we neverwould have said. This thin veil of Modesty drawn before Vanity, is muchtoo transparent to conceal it, even from very moderate discernment. 

Others go more modestly and more slyly still (as they think) to work; butin my mind still more ridiculously. They confess themselves (not withoutsome degree of shame and confusion) into all the Cardinal Virtues, byfirst degrading them into weaknesses and then owning their misfortune inbeing made up of those weaknesses. They cannot see people suffer withoutsympathizing with, and endeavoring to help them. They cannot see peoplewant, without relieving them, though truly their own circumstances cannotvery well afford it. They cannot help speaking truth, though they knowall the imprudence of it. In short, they know that, with all theseweaknesses, they are not fit to live in the world, much less to thrive init. But they are now too old to change, and must rub on as well as theycan. This sounds too ridiculous and 'outre', almost, for the stage; andyet, take my word for it, you will frequently meet with it upon thecommon stage of the world. And here I will observe, by the bye, that youwill often meet with characters in nature so extravagant, that a discreetdramatist would not venture to set them upon the stage in their true andhigh coloring. 

This principle of vanity and pride is so strong in human nature that itdescends even to the lowest objects; and one often sees people anglingfor 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 hehas rode post an hundred miles in six hours; probably it is a lie: butsupposing it to be true, what then? Why he is a very good post-boy, thatis all. Another asserts, and probably not without oaths, that he hasdrunk six or eight bottles of wine at a sitting; out of charity, I willbelieve him a liar; for, if I do not, I must think him a beast. 

Such, and a thousand more, are the follies and extravagances, whichvanity draws people into, and which always defeat their own purpose; andas 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 yourselfat all. But when, historically, you are obliged to mention yourself, takecare not to drop one single word that can directly or indirectly beconstrued as fishing for applause. Be your character what it will, itwill be known; and nobody will take it upon your own word. Never imaginethat anything you can say yourself will varnish your defects, or addlustre to your perfections! but, on the contrary, it may, and nine timesin ten, will, make the former more glaring and the latter obscure. If youare silent upon your own subject, neither envy, indignation, norridicule, will obstruct or allay the applause which you may reallydeserve; but if you publish your own panegyric upon any occasion, or inany shape whatsoever, and however artfully dressed or disguised, theywill all conspire against you, and you will be disappointed of the veryend you aim at. 

Take care never to seem dark and mysterious; which is not only a veryunamiable character, but a very suspicious one too; if you seemmysterious with others, they will be really so with you, and you willknow nothing. The height of abilities is to have 'volto sciolto' and'pensieri stretti'; that is, a frank, open, and ingenuous exterior, witha prudent interior; to be upon your own guard, and yet, by a seemingnatural openness, to put people off theirs. Depend upon it nine in ten ofevery company you are in will avail themselves of every indiscreet andunguarded expression of yours, if they can turn it to their ownadvantage. A prudent reserve is therefore as necessary as a seemingopenness is prudent. Always look people in the face when you speak tothem: the not doing it is thought to imply conscious guilt; besides thatyou lose the advantage of serving by their countenances what impressionyour discourse makes upon them. In order to know people's realsentiments, I trust much more to my eyes than to my ears: for they cansay whatever they have a mind I should hear; but they can seldom helplooking, what they have no intention that I should know. 

Neither retail nor receive scandal willingly; defamation of others mayfor the present gratify the malignity of the pride of our hearts; coolreflection will draw very disadvantageous conclusions from such adisposition; and in the case of scandal, as in that of robbery, thereceiver 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 mostilliberal of all buffoonery. Pray, neither practice it yourself, norapplaud 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 thepeople you are conversing with: for I suppose you would not, without thiscaution, have talked upon the same subject, and in the same manner, to aminister of state, a bishop, a philosopher, a captain, and a woman. A manof the world must, like the chameleon, be able to take every differenthue; which is by no means a criminal or abject, but a necessarycomplaisance; for it relates only to manners and not to morals. 

One word only as to swearing, and that, I hope and believe, is more thanis necessary. You may sometimes hear some people in good companyinterlard their discourse with oaths, by way of embellishment, as theythink, but you must observe, too, that those who do so are never thosewho contribute, in any degree, to give that company the denomination ofgood company. They are always subalterns, or people of low education; forthat practice, besides that it has no one temptation to plead, is assilly and as illiberal as it is wicked. 

Loud laughter is the mirth of the mob, who are only pleased with sillythings; for true wit or good sense never excited a laugh since thecreation of the world. A man of parts and fashion is therefore only seento smile; but never heard to laugh. 

But to conclude this long letter; all the above-mentioned rules, howevercarefully you may observe them, will lose half their effect, ifunaccompanied by the Graces. Whatever you say, if you say it with asupercilious, cynical face, or an embarrassed countenance, or a silly, disconcerted grin, will be ill received. If, into the bargain, YOU MUTTERIT, OR UTTER IT INDISTINCTLY AND UNGRACEFULLY, it will be still worsereceived. If your air and address are vulgar, awkward, and gauche, youmay be esteemed indeed, if you have great intrinsic merit; but you willnever, please; and without pleasing you will rise but heavily. Venus, among the ancients, was synonymous with the Graces, who were alwayssupposed to accompany her; and Horace tells us that even Youth andMercury, 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, anddiligently pursued. Adieu. 

LETTER LV

BATH, October 29, O. S. 1748. 

DEAR BOY: My anxiety for your success increases in proportion as the timeapproaches 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 willbe final, that, though it may vary as to the degrees, it will nevertotally change. This consideration excites that restless attention withwhich I am constantly examining how I can best contribute to theperfection of that character, in which the least spot or blemish wouldgive me more real concern, than I am now capable of feeling upon anyother 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 tosuppose that you wanted, or could receive, any new instructions uponthose two important points. Mr. Harte, I am sure, has not neglected them;and, besides, they are so obvious to common sense and reason, thatcommentators may (as they often do) perplex, but cannot make themclearer. My province, therefore, is to supply by my experience yourhitherto inevitable inexperience in the ways of the world. People at yourage are in a state of natural ebriety; and want rails, and 'gardefous', wherever they go, to hinder them from breaking their necks. Thisdrunkenness of youth is not only tolerated, but even pleases, if keptwithin certain bounds of discretion and decency. These bounds are thepoint which it is difficult for the drunken man himself to find out; andthere it is that the experience of a friend may not only serve, but savehim. 

Carry with you, and welcome, into company all the gaiety and spirits, butas little of the giddiness, of youth as you can. The former will charm;but the latter will often, though innocently, implacably offend. Informyourself of the characters and situations of the company, before you giveway to what your imagination may prompt you to say. There are, in allcompanies, more wrong beads than right ones, and many more who deserve, than who like censure. Should you therefore expatiate in the praise ofsome virtue, which some in company notoriously want; or declaim againstany vice, which others are notoriously infected with, your reflections, however general and unapplied, will, by being applicable, be thoughtpersonal and leveled at those people. This consideration points out toyou, sufficiently, not to be suspicious and captious yourself, nor tosuppose that things, because they may be, are therefore meant at you. Themanners of well-bred people secure one from those indirect and meanattacks; but if, by chance, a flippant woman or a pert coxcomb lets offanything of that kind, it is much better not to seem to understand, thanto reply to it. 

Cautiously avoid talking of either your own or other people's domesticaffairs. Yours are nothing to them but tedious; theirs are nothing toyou. The subject is a tender one: and it is odds but that you touchsomebody or other's sore place: for, in this case, there is no trustingto specious appearances; which may be, and often are, so contrary to thereal situations of things, between men and their wives, parents and theirchildren, seeming friends, etc. , that, with the best intentions in theworld, one often blunders disagreeably. 

Remember that the wit, humor, and jokes, of most mixed companies arelocal. They thrive in that particular soil, but will not often beartransplanting. Every company is differently circumstanced, has itsparticular cant and jargon; which may give occasion to wit and mirthwithin that circle, but would seem flat and insipid in any other, andtherefore will not bear repeating. Nothing makes a man look sillier thana pleasantry not relished or not understood; and if he meets with aprofound silence when he expected a general applause, or, what is worse, if he is desired to explain the bon mot, his awkward and embarrassedsituation is easier imagined' than described. 'A propos' of repeating;take great care never to repeat (I do not mean here the pleasantries) inone 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 manis obliged not to report anything out of it, though he is not immediatelyenjoined to secrecy. A retailer of this kind is sure to draw himself intoa thousand scrapes and discussions, and to be shyly and uncomfortablyreceived wherever he goes. 

You will find, in most good company, some people who only keep theirplace there by a contemptible title enough; these are what we call VERYGOOD-NATURED FELLOWS, and the French, 'bons diables'. The truth is, theyare people without any parts or fancy, and who, having no will of theirown, readily assent to, concur in, and applaud, whatever is said or donein the company; and adopt, with the same alacrity, the most virtuous orthe most criminal, the wisest or the silliest scheme, that happens to beentertained by the majority of the company. This foolish, and oftencriminal complaisance flows from a foolish cause, --the want of any othermerit. I hope that you will hold your place in company by a noblertenure, 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 tothem steadily; but then do it with good humor, good-breeding, and (if youhave it) with urbanity; for you have not yet heard enough either topreach or censure. 

All other kinds of complaisance are not only blameless, but necessary ingood company. Not to seem to perceive the little weaknesses, and the idlebut innocent affectations of the company, but even to flatter them, in acertain manner, is not only very allowable, but, in truth, a sort ofpolite duty. They will be pleased with you, if you do; and will certainlynot be reformed by you if you do not. 

For instance: you will find, in every group of company, two principalfigures, viz. , the fine lady and the fine gentleman who absolutely givethe law of wit, language, fashion, and taste, to the rest of thatsociety. There is always a strict, and often for the time being, a tenderalliance between these two figures. The lady looks upon her empire asfounded upon the divine right of beauty (and full as good a divine rightit is as any king, emperor, or pope, can pretend to); she requires, andcommonly meets with, unlimited passive obedience. And why should she notmeet with it? Her demands go no higher than to have her unquestionedpreeminence in beauty, wit, and fashion, firmly established. Fewsovereigns (by the way) are so reasonable. The fine gentleman's claims ofright are, 'mutatis mutandis', the same; and though, indeed, he is notalways 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 atleast as much as they are entitled to, if not something more. Prudencebids you make your court to these joint sovereigns; and no duty, that Iknow of, forbids it. Rebellion here is exceedingly dangerous, andinevitably punished by banishment, and immediate forfeiture of all yourwit, manners, taste, and fashion; as, on the other hand, a cheerfulsubmission, not without some flattery, is sure to procure you a strongrecommendation and most effectual pass, throughout all their, andprobably the neighboring, dominions. With a moderate share of sagacity, you will, before you have been half an hour in their company, easilydiscover those two principal figures: both by the deference which youwill observe the whole company pay them, and by that easy, careless, andserene air, which their consciousness of power gives them. As in thiscase, so in all others, aim always at the highest; get always into thehighest company, and address yourself particularly to the highest in it. The search after the unattainable philosopher's stone has occasioned athousand useful discoveries, which otherwise would never have been made. 

What the French justly call 'les manieres nobles' are only to be acquiredin the very best companies. They are the distinguishing characteristicsof men of fashion: people of low education never wear them so close, butthat some part or other of the original vulgarism appears. 'Les manieresnobles' equally forbid insolent contempt, or low envy and jealousy. Lowpeople, in good circumstances, fine clothes, and equipages, willinsolently 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 intheir pockets: on the other hand, they are gnawed with envy, and cannothelp discovering it, of those who surpass them in any of these articles;which are far from being sure criterions of merit. They are likewisejealous 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 thereverse of all this. Study them early; you cannot make them too habitualand familiar to you. 

Just as I had written what goes before, I received your letter of the24th, 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 privatepicture, drawn by yourself, at different sittings; for though, as it isdrawn by yourself, I presume you will take the most advantageouslikeness, yet I think that I have skill enough in that kind of paintingto discover the true features, though ever so artfully colored, or throwninto skillful lights and shades. 

By your account of the German play, which I do not know whether I shouldcall tragedy or comedy, the only shining part of it (since I am in a wayof quibbling) seems to have been the fox's tail. I presume, too, that theplay has had the same fate with the squib, and has gone off no more. Iremember a squib much better applied, when it was made the device of thecolors 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, thatyour cards are only to break the formality of a circle, and yourSYMPOSION intended more to promote conversation than drinking. Such anAMICABLE COLLISION, as Lord Shaftesbury very prettily calls it, rubs offand smooths those rough corners which mere nature has given to thesmoothest of us. I hope some part, at least, of the conversation is inGerman. 'A propos': tell me do you speak that language correctly, and doyou write it with ease? I have no doubt of your mastering the othermodern languages, which are much easier, and occur much oftener; forwhich reason, I desire that you will apply most diligently to German, while you are in Germany, that you may speak and write that language mostcorrectly. 

I expect to meet Mr. Eliot in London, in about three weeks, after whichyou 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 wentaccidentally the other day into a print-shop, where, among many others, Ifound one print from a famous design of Carlo Maratti, who died aboutthirty years ago, and was the last eminent painter in Europe: the subjectis 'il Studio del Disegno'; or "The School of Drawing. " An old man, supposed to be the master, points to his scholars, who are variouslyemployed in perspective, geometry, and the observation of the statues ofantiquity. With regard to perspective, of which there are some littlespecimens, he has wrote, 'Tanto che basti', that is, "As much as issufficient"; with regard to geometry, 'Tanto che basti' again; withregard to the contemplation of the ancient statues, there is written, 'Non mai a bastanza', --"There never can be enough. " But in the clouds, atthe top of the piece, are represented the three Graces, with this justsentence written over them, 'Senza di noi ogni fatica e vana', that is, "Without us, all labor is vain. " This everybody allows to be true inpainting; 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 theprint itself by Mr. Eliot, when he returns; and I will advise you to makethe same use of it that the Roman Catholics say they do of the picturesand images of their saints, which is, only to remind them of those; forthe adoration they disclaim. Nay, I will go further, as the transitionfrom Popery to Paganism is short and easy, I will classically endpoetically advise you to invoke, and sacrifice to them every day, and allthe day. It must be owned, that the Graces do not seem to be natives ofGreat Britain; and, I doubt, the best of us here have more of rough thanpolished diamond. 

Since barbarism drove them out of Greece and Rome, they seem to havetaken refuge in France, where their temples are numerous, and theirworship the established one. Examine yourself seriously, why such andsuch people please and engage you, more than such and such others, ofequal merit; and you will always find that it is because the former havethe Graces and the latter not. I have known many a woman with an exactshape, and a symmetrical assemblage of beautiful features, please nobody;while others, with very moderate shapes and features, have charmedeverybody. Why? because Venus will not charm so much, without herattendant Graces, as they will without her. Among men, how often have Iseen the most solid merit and knowledge neglected, unwelcome, or evenrejected, for want of them! While flimsy parts, little knowledge, andless merit, introduced by the Graces, have been received, cherished, andadmired. Even virtue, which is moral beauty, wants some of its charms ifunaccompanied by them. 

If you ask me how you shall acquire what neither you nor I can define orascertain, I can only answer, BY OBSERVATION. Form yourself, with regardto others, upon what you feel pleases you in them. I can tell you theimportance, the advantage, of having the Graces; but I cannot give themyou: I heartily wish I could, and I certainly would; for I do not know abetter 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 havealways 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 helays upon the Graces, which he calls (and very truly) good-breeding. Ihave marked all the parts of that book that are worth your attention; foras he begins with the child, almost from its birth, the parts relative toits 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 arethere. But the place which you are going to, in a great degree, is; for Ihave known as many well-bred, pretty men come from Turin, as from anypart of Europe. The late King Victor Amedee took great pains to form suchof his subjects as were of any consideration, both to business andmanners; the present king, I am told, follows his example: this, however, is certain, that in all courts and congresses, where there are variousforeign ministers, those of the King of Sardinia are generally theablest, the politest, and 'les plus delies'. You will therefore, atTurin, have very good models to form yourself upon: and remember, thatwith regard to the best models, as well as to the antique Greek statuesin the print, 'non mai a bastanza'. Observe every word, look, and motionof those who are allowed to be the most accomplished persons there. Observe their natural and careless, but genteel air; their unembarrassedgood-breeding; their unassuming, but yet unprostituted dignity. Mindtheir decent mirth, their discreet frankness, and that 'entregent' which, as much above the frivolous as below the important and the secret, is theproper medium for conversation in mixed companies. I will observe, by thebye, that the talent of that light 'entregent' is often of great use to aforeign minister; not only as it helps him to domesticate himself in manyfamilies, but also as it enables him to put by and parry some subjects ofconversation, which might possibly lay him under difficulties both whatto say and how to look. 

Of all the men that ever I knew in my life (and I knew him extremelywell), the late Duke of Marlborough possessed the graces in the highestdegree, not to say engrossed them; and indeed he got the most by them;for I will venture (contrary to the custom of profound historians, whoalways assign deep causes for great events), to ascribe the better halfof the Duke of Marlborough's greatness and riches to those graces. He waseminently illiterate; wrote bad English and spelled it still worse. Hehad no share of what is commonly called PARTS: that is, he had nobrightness, nothing shining in his genius. He had most undoubtedly, anexcellent 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 Gracesprotected and promoted him; for while he was an ensign of the Guards, theDuchess of Cleveland, then favorite mistress to King Charles the Second, struck by those very Graces, gave him five thousand pounds, with which heimmediately bought an annuity for his life of five hundred pounds a year, of my grandfather Halifax; which was the foundation of his subsequentfortune. His figure was beautiful; but his manner was irresistible, byeither man or woman. It was by this engaging, graceful manner, that hewas enabled, during all his war, to connect the various and jarringpowers of the Grand Alliance, and to carry them on to the main object ofthe war, notwithstanding their private and separate views, jealousies, and wrongheadednesses. Whatever court he went to (and he was oftenobliged to go himself to some resty and refractory ones), he asconstantly prevailed, and brought them into his measures. The PensionaryHeinsius, a venerable old minister, grown gray in business, and who hadgoverned the republic of the United Provinces for more than forty years, was absolutely governed by the Duke of Marlborough, as that republicfeels to this day. He was always cool; and nobody ever observed the leastvariation in his countenance; he could refuse more gracefully than otherpeople could grant; and those who went away from him the mostdissatisfied as to the substance of their business, were yet personallycharmed with him and, in some degree, comforted by his manner. With allhis gentleness and gracefulness, no man living was more conscious of hissituation, nor maintained his dignity better. 

With the share of knowledge which you have already gotten, and with themuch greater which I hope you will soon acquire, what may you not expectto arrive at, if you join all these graces to it? In your destinationparticularly, they are in truth half your business: for, if you once gainthe affections as well as the esteem of the prince or minister of thecourt to which you are sent, I will answer for it, that will effectuallydo 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 soearnestly 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 themin little things, they will leave you in great ones. I should, forinstance, be extremely concerned to see you even drink a cup of coffeeungracefully, and slop yourself with it, by your awkward manner ofholding it; nor should I like to see your coat buttoned, or your shoesbuckled awry. But I should be outrageous, if I heard you mutter yourwords unintelligibly, stammer, in your speech, or hesitate, misplace, andmistake in your narrations; and I should run away from you with greaterrapidity, if possible, than I should now run to embrace you, if I foundyou destitute of all those graces which I have set my heart upon theirmaking you one day, 'omnibus ornatum excellere rebus'. 

This subject is inexhaustible, as it extends to everything that is to besaid or done: but I will leave it for the present, as this letter isalready pretty long. Such is my desire, my anxiety for your perfection, that I never think I have said enough, though you may possibly think thatI have said too much; and though, in truth, if your own good sense is notsufficient to direct you, in many of these plain points, all that I oranybody else can say will be insufficient. But where you are concerned, Iam the insatiable man in Horace, who covets still a little corner more tocomplete the figure of his field. I dread every little corner that maydeform mine, in which I would have (if possible) no one defect. 

I this moment receive yours of the 17th, N. S. , and cannot condole withyou upon the secession of your German 'Commensaux'; who both by your andMr. Harte's description, seem to be 'des gens d'une amiable absence';and, if you can replace them by any other German conversation, you willbe a gainer by the bargain. I cannot conceive, if you understand Germanwell enough to read any German book, how the writing of the Germancharacter can be so difficult and tedious to you, the twenty-four lettersbeing very soon learned; and I do not expect that you should write yetwith the utmost purity and correctness, as to the language: what I meantby your writing once a fortnight to Grevenkop, was only to make thewritten character familiar to you. However, I will be content with one inthree weeks or so. 

I believe you are not likely to see Mr. Eliot again soon, he being stillin 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 ofthe motions of your friend Mr. Eliot; for whom I know you have, and veryjustly, the most friendly concern. His father and he came to towntogether, in a post-chaise a fortnight ago, the rest of the familyremaining in Cornwall. His father, with difficulty, survived the journey, and died last Saturday was seven-night. Both concern and decency confinedyour friend, till two days ago, when I saw him; he has determined, and Ithink very prudently, to go abroad again; but how soon, it is yetimpossible for him to know, as he must necessarily put his own privateaffairs in some order first; but I conjecture that he may possibly joinyou at Turin; sooner, to be sure, not. I am very sorry that you arelikely to be so long without the company and the example of so valuable afriend; and therefore I hope that you will make it up to yourself, aswell as you can at this distance, by remembering and following hisexample. Imitate that application of his, which has made him know allthoroughly, and to the bottom. He does not content himself with thesurface of knowledge; but works in the mine for it, knowing that it liesdeep. 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 whichHawkins sends Mr. Harte some things that he wrote for) all those which Ipropose sending you by Mr. Eliot, together with a very little box that Iam desired to forward to Mr. Harte. There will be, likewise, two lettersof recommendation for you to Monsieur Andrie and Comte Algarotti, atBerlin, which you will take care to deliver to them, as soon as you shallbe rigged and fitted out to appear there. They will introduce you intothe best company, and I depend upon your own good sense for your avoidingof bad. If you fall into bad and low company there, or anywhere else, youwill be irrecoverably lost; whereas, if you keep good company, andcompany above yourself, your character and your fortune will be immovablyfixed. 

I have not time to-day, upon account of the meeting of the parliament, tomake this letter of the usual length; and indeed, after the volumes thatI have written to you, all I can add must be unnecessary. However, Ishall probably, 'ex abundanti', return soon to my former prolixity; andyou 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 mostaffectionate brother, with whom I had always lived in the closestfriendship. 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 fellat last upon his stomach and head. As he grew, toward the last, lethargic, his end was not painful to himself. At the distance which youare at from hence, you need not go into mourning upon this occasion, asthe 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 thosethings which I proposed to have sent you by Mr. Eliot, viz. , a little boxfrom your Mamma; a less box for Mr. Harte; Mr. Locke's book uponeducation; the print of Carlo Maratti, which I mentioned to you some timeago; and two letters of recommendation, one to Monsieur Andrie and theother to Comte Algarotti, at Berlin. Both those gentlemen will, I amsure, be as willing as they are able to introduce you into the bestcompany; and I hope you will not (as many of your countrymen are apt todo) decline it. It is in the best companies only; that you can learn thebest manners and that 'tournure', and those graces, which I have so oftenrecommended to you, as the necessary means of making a figure in theworld. 

I am most extremely pleased with the account which Mr. Harte gives me ofyour 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 mightsuggest; which is, that you have now got over the difficulties of thatlanguage, and therefore it would be unpardonable not to persevere to yourjourney'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 akind of knowledge which very well becomes a man of sound and solidlearning, but which only exposes a man of slight and superficial reading;therefore, pray make the substance and matter of such books your firstobject, and their title-pages, indexes, letter, and binding, but yoursecond. It is the characteristic of a man of parts and good judgment toknow, and give that degree of attention that each object deserves. Whereas little minds mistake little objects for great ones, and lavishaway upon the former that time and attention which only the latterdeserve. To such mistakes we owe the numerous and frivolous tribes ofinsect-mongers, shell-mongers, and pursuers and driers of butterflies, etc. The strong mind distinguishes, not only between the useful and theuseless, but likewise between the useful and the curious. He applieshimself intensely to the former; he only amuses himself with the latter. Of this little sort of knowledge, which I have just hinted at, you willfind at least as much as you need wish to know, in a superficial butpretty French book, entitled, 'Spectacle de la Nature'; which will amuseyou while you read it, and give you a sufficient notion of the variousparts of nature. I would advise you to read it, at leisure hours. Butthat part of nature, which Mr. Harte tells me you have begun to studywith the Rector magnificus, is of much greater importance, and deservesmuch more attention; I mean astronomy. The vast and immense planetarysystem, the astonishing order and regularity of those innumerable worlds, will open a scene to you, which not only deserves your attention as amatter of curiosity, or rather astonishment; but still more, as it willgive you greater, and consequently juster, ideas of that eternal andomnipotent Being, who contrived, made, and still preserves that universe, than all the contemplation of this, comparatively, very little orb, whichwe at present inhabit, could possibly give you. Upon this subject, Monsieur Fontenelle's 'Pluralite des Mondes', which you may read in twohours' 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 youor from Mr. Harte, at which I am uneasy; not as a mamma would be, but asa 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 painabout that: moreover, were either you or Mr. Harte ill, the other woulddoubtless write me word of it. My impatience for yours or Mr. Harte'sletters arises from a very different cause, which is my desire to hearfrequently of the state and progress of your mind. You are now at thatcritical period of life when every week ought to produce fruit or flowersanswerable to your culture, which I am sure has not been neglected; andit is by your letters, and Mr. Harte's accounts of you, that, at thisdistance, 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 notmake out a very interesting letter to an indifferent bystander; but sodeeply concerned as I am in the game you are playing, even the least moveis 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 receivedthis letter, I here send you one inclosed to deliver to Mr. Mascow. It isto thank him for his attention and civility to you, during your stay withhim: and I take it for granted, that you will not fail making him theproper compliments at parting; for the good name that we leave behind atone 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 itwould be of advantage to you, if you got letters of recommendation fromhim to some of the learned men at Berlin. Those testimonials give alustre, which is not to be despised; for the most ignorant are forced toseem, at least, to pay a regard to learning, as the most wicked are tovirtue. Such is their intrinsic worth. 

Your friend Duval dined with me the other day, and complained mostgrievously that he had not heard from you above a year; I bid him abuseyou for it himself; and advised him to do it in verse, which, if he wasreally angry, his indignation would enable him to do. He accordinglybrought me, yesterday, the inclosed reproaches and challenge, which hedesired me to transmit to you. As this is his first essay in Englishpoetry, the inaccuracies in the rhymes and the numbers are veryexcusable. He insists, as you will find, upon being answered in verse;which I should imagine that you and Mr. HARTE, together, could bringabout; as the late Lady Dorchester used to say, that she and Dr. Radcliffe, together, could cure a fever. This is however sure, that itnow rests upon you; and no man can say what methods Duval may take, ifyou decline his challenge. I am sensible that you are under somedisadvantages in this proffered combat. Your climate, at this time of theyear 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 rathershivering than singing; nay, I question whether Apollo is even knownthere as god of Verse, or as god of Light: perhaps a little as god ofPhysic. These will be fair excuses, if your performance should fallsomething short; though I do not apprehend that it will. 

While you have been at Leipsig, which is a place of study more than ofpleasure or company, you have had all opportunities of pursuing yourstudies uninterruptedly; and have had, I believe, very few temptations tothe contrary. But the case will be quite different at Berlin, where thesplendor and dissipation of a court and the 'beau monde', will presentthemselves 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 toreject them, and shut yourself up in your closet: quite the contrary; Iadvise you to take your share, and enter into them with spirit andpleasure; but then I advise you, too, to allot your time so prudently, asthat learning may keep pace with pleasures; there is full time, in thecourse of the day, for both, if you do but manage that time right andlike a good economist. The whole morning, if diligently and attentivelydevoted to solid studies, will go a great way at the year's end; and theevenings spent in the pleasures of good company, will go as far inteaching you a knowledge, not much less necessary than the other, I meanthe knowledge of the world. Between these two necessary studies, that ofbooks in the morning, and that of the world in the evening, you see thatyou will not have one minute to squander or slattern away. Nobody everlent themselves more than I did, when I was young, to the pleasures anddissipation of good company. I even did it too much. But then, I canassure you, that I always found time for serious studies; and, when Icould find it no other way, I took it out of my sleep, for I resolvedalways 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 beenconfined 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 beforeeight. 

When you are at Berlin, remember to speak German as often as you can, incompany; for everybody there will speak French to you, unless you letthem know that you can speak German, which then they will choose tospeak. 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 theGerman character that took up so much of your time, and therefore Iadvised you, by the frequent writing of that character, to make it easyand familiar to you: But, since it is only the propriety and purity ofthe 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 expectthat you should yet be master of all the idioms, delicacies, andpeculiarities of that difficult language. That can only come by use, especially frequent speaking; therefore, when you shall be at Berlin, andafterward at Turin, where you will meet many Germans, pray take allopportunities of conversing in German, in order not only to keep what youhave got of that language, but likewise to improve and perfect yourselfin it. As to the characters, you form them very well, and as you yourselfown, better than your English ones; but then let me ask you thisquestion: Why do you not form your Roman characters better? for Imaintain, 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 themstraight, 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 byall the accounts I have had of late from Mr. Harte and others, this isthe only criticism that you give me occasion to make. Mr. Harte's lastletter, of the 14th, N. S. , particularly, makes me extremely happy, byassuring me that, in every respect, you do exceedingly well. I am notafraid, by what I now say, of making you too vain; because I do not thinkthat a just consciousness and an honest pride of doing well, can becalled vanity; for vanity is either the silly affectation of goodqualities which one has not, or the sillier pride of what does notdeserve commendation in itself. By Mr. Harte's account, you are got verynear the goal of Greek and Latin; and therefore I cannot suppose that, asyour sense increases, your endeavors and your speed will slacken infinishing the small remains of your course. Consider what lustre and'eclat' it will give you, when you return here, to be allowed to be thebest scholar, for a gentleman, in England; not to mention the realpleasure and solid comfort which such knowledge will give you throughoutyour whole life. Mr. Harte tells me another thing, which, I own, I didnot expect: it is, that when you read aloud, or repeat parts of plays, you speak very properly and distinctly. This relieves me from greatuneasiness, which I was under upon account of your former badenunciation. Go on, and attend most diligently to this important article. It is, of all Graces (and they are all necessary), the most necessaryone. 

Comte Pertingue, who has been here about a fortnight, far fromdisavowing, confirms all that Mr. Harte has said to your advantage. Hethinks that he shall be at Turin much about the time of your arrivalthere, 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 whomyou 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, ofwhat use a good reputation is, and how swift and advantageous a harbingerit is, wherever one goes. Upon this point, too, Mr. Harte does youjustice, and tells me that you are desirous of praise from thepraiseworthy. This is a right and generous ambition; and without which, Ifear, few people would deserve praise. 

But here let me, as an old stager upon the theatre of the world, suggestone consideration to you; which is, to extend your desire of praise alittle beyond the strictly praiseworthy; or else you may be apt todiscover 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 istoo great a majority of fools and, knaves; who, singly from their number, must to a certain degree be respected, though they are by no meansrespectable. And a man who will show every knave or fool that he thinkshim such, will engage in a most ruinous war, against numbers muchsuperior to those that he and his allies can bring into the field. Abhora knave, and pity a fool in your heart; but let neither of them, unnecessarily, see that you do so. Some complaisance and attention tofools is prudent, and not mean; as a silent abhorrence of individualknaves is often necessary and not criminal. 

As you will now soon part with Lord Pulteney, with whom, during your staytogether at Leipsig, I suppose you have formed a connection, I imaginethat 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 areof themselves two good reasons for keeping it up; but there is also athird 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 hasparts into the bargain, of very great consequence; so that hisfriendship, may be extremely well worth your cultivating, especially asit will not cost you above one letter in one month. 

I do not know whether this letter will find you at Leipsig: at least, itis 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 orstreet there, I suppose it will remain at the posthouse till you send forit. Upon your arrival at Berlin you will send me your particulardirection; and also, pray be minute in your accounts of your receptionthere, by those whom I recommend you to, as well as by those to whom theypresent you. Remember, too, that you are going to a polite and literatecourt, where the Graces will best introduce you. 

Adieu. God bless you, and may you continue to deserve my love, as much asyou now enjoy it!

P. S. Lady Chesterfield bids me tell you, that she decides entirely inyour favor against Mr. Grevenkop, and even against herself; for she doesnot think that she could, at this time, write either so good a characteror so good German. Pray write her a German letter upon that subject, inwhich you may tell her, that, like the rest of the world, you approve ofher judgment, because it is in your favor; and that you true Germanscannot 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 willeither find you, or at least wait but a very little time for you. Icannot help being anxious for your success, at this your first appearanceupon the great stage of the world; for, though the spectators are alwayscandid enough to give great allowances, and to show great indulgence to anew actor; yet, from the first impressions which he makes upon them, theyare apt to decide, in their own minds, at least, whether he will ever bea good one, or not. If he seems to understand what he says, by speakingit properly; if he is attentive to his part, instead of staringnegligently about him; and if, upon the whole, he seems ambitious toplease, they willingly pass over little awkwardnesses and inaccuracies, which they ascribe to a commendable modesty in a young and inexperiencedactor. They pronounce that he will be a good one in time; and, by theencouragement which they give him, make him so the sooner. This, I hope, will be your case: you have sense enough to understand your part; aconstant attention, and ambition to excel in it, with a carefulobservation of the best actors, will inevitably qualify you, if not forthe first, at least for considerable parts. 

Your dress (as insignificant a thing as dress is in itself) is now becomean object worthy of some attention; for, I confess, I cannot help formingsome opinion of a man's sense and character from his dress; and I believemost people do as well as myself. Any affectation whatsoever in dressimplies, in my mind, a flaw in the understanding. Most of our youngfellows here display some character or other by their dress; some affectthe tremendous, and wear a great and fiercely cocked hat, an enormoussword, a short waistcoat and a black cravat; these I should be almosttempted to swear the peace against, in my own defense, if I were notconvinced that they are but meek asses in lions' skins. Others go inbrown frocks, leather breeches, great oaken cudgels in their hands, theirhats uncocked, and their hair unpowdered; and imitate grooms, stage-coachmen, and country bumpkins so well in their outsides, that I donot make the least doubt of their resembling them equally in theirinsides. A man of sense carefully avoids any particular character in hisdress; he is accurately clean for his own sake; but all the rest is forother people's. He dresses as well, and in the same manner, as the peopleof sense and fashion of the place where he is. If he dresses better, ashe thinks, that is, more than they, he is a fop; if he dresses worse, heis unpardonably negligent. But, of the two, I would rather have a youngfellow too much than too little dressed; the excess on that side willwear off, with a little age and reflection; but if he is negligent attwenty, he will be a sloven at forty, and stink at fifty years old. Dressyourself fine, where others are fine; and plain where others are plain;but take care always that your clothes are well made, and fit you, forotherwise they will give you a very awkward air. When you are once welldressed for the day think no more of it afterward; and, without anystiffness for fear of discomposing that dress, let all your motions be aseasy 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 entertainedyou upon those important subjects, that I can add nothing to what I haveformerly said. Your own good sense will suggest to you the substance ofthem; and observation, experience, and good company, the several modes ofthem. Your great vivacity, which I hear of from many people, will be nohindrance to your pleasing in good company: on the contrary, will be ofuse 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 aconstitutional restlessness; for the most disagreeable composition that Iknow in the world, is that of strong animal spirits, with a cold genius. Such a fellow is troublesomely active, frivolously busy, foolishlylively; talks much with little meaning, and laughs more, with less reasonwhereas, in my opinion, a warm and lively genius with a coolconstitution, is the perfection of human nature. 

Do what you will at Berlin, provided you do but do something all daylong. All that I desire of you is, that you will never slattern away oneminute 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 whenyou are in company, learn (what company can only teach you) thecharacters and manners of mankind. I really ask your pardon for givingyou this advice; because, if you are a rational creature and thinkingbeing, 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, thatsome men pass their whole time in doing nothing, I should not think itpossible for any being, superior to Monsieur Descartes' automatons, tosquander away, in absolute idleness, one single minute of that smallportion of time which is allotted us in this world. 

I have lately seen one Mr. Cranmer, a very sensible merchant, who told methat he had dined with you, and seen you often at Leipsig. And yesterdayI saw an old footman of mine, whom I made a messenger, who told me thathe had seen you last August. You will easily imagine, that I was not theless glad to see them because they had seen you; and I examined them bothnarrowly, in their respective departments; the former as to your mind, the latter, as to your body. Mr. Cranmer gave me great satisfaction, notonly by what he told me of himself concerning you, but by what he wascommissioned to tell me from Mr. Mascow. As he speaks German perfectlyhimself, I asked him how you spoke it; and he assured me very well forthe time, and that a very little more practice would make you perfectlymaster of it. The messenger told me that you were much grown, and, to thebest of his guess, within two inches as tall as I am; that you wereplump, 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 happyNew-years; and, if you deserve, may you have them. Many New-years, indeed, you may see, but happy ones you cannot see without deservingthem. These, virtue, honor, and knowledge, alone can merit, alone canprocure, 'Dii tibi dent annos, de te nam cetera sumes', was a prettypiece of poetical flattery, where it was said: I hope that, in time, itmay be no flattery when said to you. But I assure you, that wherever Icannot apply the latter part of the line to you with truth, I shallneither 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. Yourthanks 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 thankswhich I desire to receive. Due attention to the inside of books, and duecontempt for the outside, is the proper relation between a man of senseand his books. 

Now that you are going a little more into the world; I will take thisoccasion to explain my intentions as to your future expenses, that youmay 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 foreither your improvement or your pleasures: I mean the pleasures of arational being. Under the head of improvement, I mean the best books, andthe best masters, cost what they will; I also mean all the expense oflodgings, coach, dress; servants, etc. , which, according to the severalplaces where you may be, shall be respectively necessary to enable you tokeep the best company. Under the head of rational pleasures, Icomprehend, first, proper charities, to real and compassionate objects ofit; secondly, proper presents to those to whom you are obliged, or whomyou desire to oblige; thirdly, a conformity of expense to that of thecompany which you keep; as in public spectacles; your share of littleentertainments; a few pistoles at games of mere commerce; and otherincidental calls of good company. The only two articles which I willnever supply, are the profusion of low riot, and the idle lavishness ofnegligence and laziness. A fool squanders away, without credit oradvantage to himself, more than a man of sense spends with both. Thelatter employs his money as he does his time, and never spends a shillingof the one, nor a minute of the other, but in something that is eitheruseful or rationally pleasing to himself or others. The former buyswhatever he does not want, and does not pay for what he does want. Hecannot withstand the charms of a toyshop; snuff-boxes, watches, heads ofcanes, etc. , are his destruction. His servants and tradesmen conspirewith his own indolence to cheat him; and, in a very little time, he isastonished, in the midst of all the ridiculous superfluities, to findhimself in want of all the real comforts and necessaries of life. Withoutcare and method, the largest fortune will not, and with them, almost thesmallest 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 alwayseither stipulates poundage, or requires a present for his good word, asthey 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 ischeap; or from a silly pride, because it is dear. Keep an account in abook of all that you receive, and of all that you pay; for no man whoknows what he receives and what he pays ever runs out. I do not mean thatyou should keep an account of the shillings and half-crowns which you mayspend in chair-hire, operas, etc. : they are unworthy of the time, and ofthe ink that they would consume; leave such minutia to dull, penny-wisefellows; but remember, in economy, as well as in every other part oflife, to have the proper attention to proper objects, and the propercontempt for little ones. A strong mind sees things in their trueproportions; a weak one views them through a magnifying medium, which, like the microscope, makes an elephant of a flea: magnifies all littleobjects, but cannot receive great ones. I have known many a man pass fora miser, by saving a penny and wrangling for twopence, who was undoinghimself at the same time by living above his income, and not attending toessential articles which were above his 'portee'. The sure characteristicof a sound and strong mind, is to find in everything those certainbounds, 'quos ultra citrave nequit consistere rectum'. These boundariesare marked out by a very fine line, which only good sense and attentioncan discover; it is much too fine for vulgar eyes. In manners, this lineis good-breeding; beyond it, is troublesome ceremony; short of it, isunbecoming negligence and inattention. In morals, it divides ostentatiouspuritanism from criminal relaxation; in religion, superstition fromimpiety: and, in short, every virtue from its kindred vice or weakness. Ithink you have sense enough to discover the line; keep it always in youreye, and learn to walk upon it; rest upon Mr. Harte, and he will poiseyou till you are able to go alone. By the way, there are fewer people whowalk well upon that line, than upon the slack rope; and therefore a goodperformer shines so much the more. 

Your friend Comte Pertingue, who constantly inquires after you, haswritten to Comte Salmour, the Governor of the Academy at Turin, toprepare a room for you there immediately after the Ascension: and hasrecommended you to him in a manner which I hope you will give him noreason to repent or be ashamed of. As Comte Salmour's son, now residingat The Hague, is my particular acquaintance, I shall have regular andauthentic accounts of all that you do at Turin. 

During your stay at Berlin, I expect that you should inform yourselfthoroughly of the present state of the civil, military, andecclesiastical government of the King of Prussia's dominions;particularly of the military, which is upon a better footing in thatcountry than in any other in Europe. 

You will attend at the reviews, see the troops exercised, and inquireinto the numbers of troops and companies in the respective regiments ofhorse, foot, and dragoons; the numbers and titles of the commissioned andnon-commissioned officers in the several troops and companies; and alsotake care to learn the technical military terms in the German language;for though you are not to be a military man, yet these military mattersare so frequently the subject of conversation, that you will look veryawkwardly if you are ignorant of them. Moreover, they are commonly theobjects of negotiation, and, as such, fall within your future profession. You must also inform yourself of the reformation which the King ofPrussia has lately made in the law; by which he has both lessened thenumber, and shortened the duration of law-suits; a great work, and worthyof so great a prince! As he is indisputably the ablest prince in Europe, every part of his government deserves your most diligent inquiry, andyour most serious attention. It must be owned that you set out well, as ayoung politician, by beginning at Berlin, and then going to Turin, whereyou will see the next ablest monarch to that of Prussia; so that, if youare capable of making political reflections, those two princes willfurnish 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 inthe same place with him, and not to have seen him. If you should have noother way of being introduced to him, I will send you a letter fromhence. Monsieur Cagenoni, at Berlin, to whom I know you are recommended, is a very able man of business, thoroughly informed of every part ofEurope; and his acquaintance, if you deserve and improve it as you shoulddo, may be of great use to you. 

Remember to take the best dancing-master at Berlin, more to teach you tosit, stand, and walk gracefully, than to dance finely. The Graces, theGraces; 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 wassurprised to find no mention of your approaching journey to Berlin, which, according to the first plan, was to be on the 20th, N. S. , andupon 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 minutewith regard to your motions and transactions; and I desire that, for thefuture, they may contain accounts of what and who you see and hear, inyour several places of residence; for I interest myself as much in thecompany you keep, and the pleasures you take, as in the studies youpursue; and therefore, equally desire to be informed of them all. Anotherthing I desire, which is, that you will acknowledge my letters by theirdates, 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 veryprudent not to turn it to poetry in that situation; and not lessjudicious in declining the borrowed aid of a stove, whose fumigation, instead of inspiration, would at best have produced what Mr. Pope calls asouterkin of wit. I will show your letter to Duval, by way ofjustification for not answering his challenge; and I think he must allowthe validity of it; for a frozen brain is as unfit to answer a challengein 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 anduseful knowledge. Attention to what you will see and hear there, togetherwith proper inquiries, and a little care and method in taking notes ofwhat is more material, will procure you much useful knowledge. Many youngpeople are so light, so dissipated, and so incurious, that they canhardly 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 aswell not see nor hear at all. For instance, if they see a publicbuilding, as a college, an hospital, an arsenal, etc. , they contentthemselves with the first 'coup d'oeil', and neither take the time northe trouble of informing themselves of the material parts of them; whichare 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 ofthings. For example, should you see a regiment reviewed at Berlin orPotsdam, instead of contenting yourself with the general glitter of thecollective 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 ofsubalternes; how many 'bas officiers', or non-commissioned officers, assergeants, corporals, 'anspessades, frey corporals', etc. , their pay, their clothing, and by whom; whether by the colonels, or captains, orcommissaries 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 courtof justice; of the rules and numbers and endowments of a college, or anacademy, and not only of the dimensions of the respective edifices; andlet your letters to me contain these informations, in proportion as youacquire them. 

I often reflect, with the most flattering hopes, how proud I shall be ofyou, if you should profit, as you may, of the opportunities which youhave had, still have, and will have, of arriving at perfection; and, onthe other hand, with dread of the grief and shame you will give me if youdo 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 hopeyou will do, what, however, few people at your age do, exert it for yourown sake in the search of truth and sound knowledge. I will confess (forI am not unwilling to discover my secrets to you) that it is not manyyears since I have presumed to reflect for myself. Till sixteen orseventeen I had no reflection; and for many years after that, I made nouse of what I had. I adopted the notions of the books I read, or thecompany I kept, without examining whether they were just or not; and Irather chose to run the risk of easy error, than to take the time andtrouble of investigating truth. Thus, partly from laziness, partly fromdissipation, and partly from the 'mauvaise honte' of rejectingfashionable notions, I was (as I have since found) hurried away byprejudices, instead of being guided by reason; and quietly cherishederror, instead of seeking for truth. But since I have taken the troubleof 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 howdifferent a light I now see them, from that in which I formerly viewedthem, through the deceitful medium of prejudice or authority. Nay, I maypossibly still retain many errors, which, from long habit, have perhapsgrown into real opinions; for it is very difficult to distinguish habits, early acquired and long entertained, from the result of our reason andreflection. 

My first prejudice (for I do not mention the prejudices of boys, andwomen, such as hobgoblins, ghosts, dreams, spilling salt, etc. ) was myclassical enthusiasm, which I received from the books I read, and themasters who explained them to me. I was convinced there had been nocommon sense nor common honesty in the world for these last fifteenhundred years; but that they were totally extinguished with the ancientGreek and Roman governments. Homer and Virgil could have no faults, because they were ancient; Milton and Tasso could have no merit, becausethey were modern. And I could almost have said, with regard to theancients, what Cicero, very absurdly and unbecomingly for a philosopher, says with regard to Plato, 'Cum quo errare malim quam cum aliis rectesentire'. Whereas now, without any extraordinary effort of genius, I havediscovered that nature was the same three thousand years ago as it is atpresent; that men were but men then as well as now; that modes andcustoms vary often, but that human nature is always the same. And I canno more suppose that men were better, braver, or wiser, fifteen hundredor three thousand years ago, than I can suppose that the animals orvegetables were better then than they are now. I dare assert too, indefiance of the favorers of the ancients, that Homer's hero, Achilles, was both a brute and a scoundrel, and consequently an improper characterfor 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 withAgamemnon about a w---e; and then afterward, animated by privateresentment only, he went about killing people basely, I will call it, because he knew himself invulnerable; and yet, invulnerable as he was, hewore the strongest armor in the world; which I humbly apprehend to be ablunder; for a horse-shoe clapped to his vulnerable heel would have beensufficient. On the other hand, with submission to the favorers of themoderns, I assert with Mr. Dryden, that the devil is in truth the hero ofMilton's poem; his plan, which he lays, pursues, and at last executes, being the subject of the poem. From all which considerations Iimpartially conclude that the ancients had their excellencies and theirdefects, their virtues and their vices, just like the moderns; pedantryand affectation of learning decide clearly in favor of the former; vanityand ignorance, as peremptorily in favor of the latter. Religiousprejudices kept pace with my classical ones; and there was a time when Ithought it impossible for the honestest man in the world to be saved outof the pale of the Church of England, not considering that matters ofopinion do not depend upon the will; and that it is as natural, and asallowable, that another man should differ in opinion from me, as that Ishould differ from him; and that if we are both sincere, we are bothblameless; and should consequently have mutual indulgence for each other. 

The next prejudices that I adopted were those of the 'beau monde', inwhich as I was determined to shine, I took what are commonly called thegenteel vices to be necessary. I had heard them reckoned so, and withoutfurther inquiry I believed it, or at least should have been ashamed tohave denied it, for fear of exposing myself to the ridicule of those whomI considered as the models of fine gentlemen. But I am now neitherashamed nor afraid to assert that those genteel vices, as they arefalsely called, are only so many blemishes in the character of even a manof the world and what is called a fine gentleman, and degrade him in theopinions of those very people, to whom he, hopes to recommend himself bythem. Nay, this prejudice often extends so far, that I have known peoplepretend to vices they had not, instead of carefully concealing those theyhad. 

Use and assert your own reason; reflect, examine, and analyze everything, in order to form a sound and mature judgment; let no (authority) imposeupon your understanding, mislead your actions, or dictate yourconversation. Be early what, if you are not, you will when too late wishyou had been. Consult your reason betimes: I do not say that it willalways prove an unerring guide; for human reason is not infallible; butit will prove the least erring guide that you can follow. Books andconversation may assist it; but adopt neither blindly and implicitly; tryboth by that best rule, which God has given to direct us, reason. Of allthe troubles, do not decline, as many people do, that of thinking. Theherd of mankind can hardly be said to think; their notions are almost alladoptive; and, in general, I believe it is better that it should be so, as such common prejudices contribute more to order and quiet than theirown separate reasonings would do, uncultivated and unimproved as theyare. We have many of those useful prejudices in this country, which Ishould be very sorry to see removed. The good Protestant conviction, thatthe Pope is both Antichrist and the Whore of Babylon, is a more effectualpreservative in this country against popery, than all the solid andunanswerable arguments of Chillingworth. 

The idle story of the pretender's having been introduced in a warming paninto the queen's bed, though as destitute of all probability as of allfoundation, has been much more prejudicial to the cause of Jacobitismthan all that Mr. Locke and others have written, to show theunreasonableness and absurdity of the doctrines of indefeasiblehereditary right, and unlimited passive obedience. And that silly, sanguine notion, which is firmly entertained here, that one Englishmancan beat three Frenchmen, encourages, and has sometimes enabled, oneEnglishman 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 veryprobably run away. Such gross local prejudices prevail with the herd ofmankind, and do not impose upon cultivated, informed, and reflectingminds. But then they are notions equally false, though not so glaringlyabsurd, which are entertained by people of superior and improvedunderstandings, merely for want of the necessary pains to investigate, the proper attention to examine, and the penetration requisite todetermine the truth. Those are the prejudices which I would have youguard against by a manly exertion and attention of your reasoningfaculty. To mention one instance of a thousand that I could give you: Itis a general prejudice, and has been propagated for these sixteen hundredyears, that arts and sciences cannot flourish under an absolutegovernment; and that genius must necessarily be cramped where freedom isrestrained. This sounds plausible, but is false in fact. Mechanic arts, as agriculture, etc. , will indeed be discouraged where the profits andproperty are, from the nature of the government, insecure. But why thedespotism of a government should cramp the genius of a mathematician, anastronomer, a poet, or an orator, I confess I never could discover. Itmay indeed deprive the poet or the orator of the liberty of treating ofcertain subjects in the manner they would wish, but it leaves themsubjects enough to exert genius upon, if they have it. Can an author withreason complain that he is cramped and shackled, if he is not at libertyto publish blasphemy, bawdry, or sedition? all which are equallyprohibited in the freest governments, if they are wise and well regulatedones. This is the present general complaint of the French authors; butindeed chiefly of the bad ones. No wonder, say they, that Englandproduces so many great geniuses; people there may think as they please, and publish what they think. Very true, but what hinders them fromthinking as they please? If indeed they think in manner destructive ofall religion, morality, or good manners, or to the disturbance of thestate, an absolute government will certainly more effectually prohibitthem from, or punish them for publishing such thoughts, than a free onecould do. But how does that cramp the genius of an epic, dramatic, orlyric poet? or how does it corrupt the eloquence of an orator in thepulpit or at the bar? The number of good French authors, such asCorneille, Racine, Moliere, Boileau, and La Fontaine, who seemed todispute it with the Augustan age, flourished under the despotism of LewisXIV. ; and the celebrated authors of the Augustan age did not shine tillafter the fetters were riveted upon the Roman people by that cruel andworthless Emperor. The revival of letters was not owing, neither, to anyfree government, but to the encouragement and protection of Leo X. AndFrancis I; the one as absolute a pope, and the other as despotic aprince, as ever reigned. Do not mistake, and imagine that while I am onlyexposing a prejudice, I am speaking in favor of arbitrary power; whichfrom my soul I abhor, and look upon as a gross and criminal violation ofthe 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 ofyour reception at Berlin; but I was still better pleased with the accountwhich Mr. Harte sent me of your manner of receiving that reception; forhe says that you behaved yourself to those crowned heads with all therespect and modesty due to them; but at the same time, without being anymore embarrassed than if you had been conversing with your equals. Thiseasy respect is the perfection of good-breeding, which nothing butsuperior good sense, or a long usage of the world, can produce, and as inyour case it could not be the latter, it is a pleasing indication to meof the former. 

You will now, in the course of a few months, have been rubbed at three ofthe considerable courts of Europe, -Berlin, Dresden, and Vienna; so that Ihope you will arrive at Turin tolerably smooth and fit for the lastpolish. There you may get the best, there being no court I know of thatforms more well-bred, and agreeable people. Remember now, thatgood-breeding, genteel carriage, address, and even dress (to a certaindegree), are become serious objects, and deserve a part of yourattention. 

The day, if well employed, is long enough for them all. One half of itbestowed upon your studies and your exercises, will finish your mind andyour body; the remaining part of it, spent in good company, will formyour manners, and complete your character. What would I not give to haveyou read Demosthenes critically in the morning, and understand him betterthan anybody; at noon, behave yourself better than any person at court;and in the evenings, trifle more agreeably than anybody in mixedcompanies? 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. Itentirely 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 whomyou have seen here. He will, I am sure, be both very civil and veryuseful to you there, as he will also be afterward at Rome, where he isappointed to go ambassador. By the way, wherever you are, I would adviseyou to frequent, as much as you can, the Venetian Ministers; who arealways better informed of the courts they reside at than any otherminister; the strict and regular accounts, which they are obliged to giveto their own government, making them very diligent and inquisitive. 

You will stay at Venice as long as the Carnival lasts; for though I amimpatient to have you at Turin, yet I would wish you to see thoroughlyall that is to be seen at so singular a place as Venice, and at soshowish a time as the Carnival. You will take also particular care toview all those meetings of the government, which strangers are allowed tosee; as the Assembly of the Senate, etc. , and also to inform yourself ofthat peculiar and intricate form of government. There are books whichgive 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 ageneral notion of that constitution, but also furnish you with materialsfor proper questions and oral informations upon the place, which arealways the best. There are likewise many very valuable remains, insculpture and paintings, of the best masters, which deserve yourattention. 

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 placewhere a letter will be likely to find you, till you are at Turin; but youmay, and I desire that you will write to me, from the several places inyour way, from whence the post goes. 

I will send you some other letters for Venice, to Vienna, or to yourbanker at Venice, to whom you will, upon your arrival there, send forthem: For I will take care to have you so recommended from place toplace, that you shall not run through them, as most of your countrymendo, without the advantage of seeing and knowing what best deserves to beseen 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 placefor you to meet with it, though I suppose that it will be there some timebefore you; for, as your intermediate stay anywhere else will be short, and as the post from hence, in this season of easterly winds isuncertain, I direct no more letters to Vienna; where I hope both you andMr. Harte will have received the two letters which I sent yourespectively; with a letter of recommendation to Monsieur Capello, atVenice, which was inclosed in mine to you. I will suppose too, that theinland post on your side of the water has not done you justice; for Ireceived but one single letter from you, and one from Mr. Harte, duringyour whole stay at Berlin; from whence I hoped for, and expected veryparticular accounts. 

I persuade myself, that the time you stay at Venice will be properlyemployed, 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-showsof the town, but of the constitution of the government; for which purposeI send you the inclosed letters of recommendation from Sir James Grey, the King's Resident at Venice, but who is now in England. These, withmine to Monsieur Capello, will carry you, if you will go, into all thebest company at Venice. 

But the important point; and the important place, is Turin; for there Ipropose your staying a considerable time, to pursue your studies, learnyour exercises, and form your manners. I own, I am not without my anxietyfor the consequence of your stay there, which must be either very good orvery bad. To you it will be entirely a new scene. Wherever you havehitherto been, you have conversed, chiefly, with people wiser anddiscreeter than yourself; and have been equally out of the way of badadvice or bad example; but in the Academy at Turin you will probably meetwith 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 badcharacters; and both sense and virtue enough to shun the latter, andconnect yourself with the former: but however, for greater security, andfor your sake alone, I must acquaint you that I have sent positive ordersto Mr. Harte to carry you off, instantly, to a place which I have namedto him, upon the very first symptom which he shall discover in you, ofdrinking, gaming, idleness, or disobedience to his orders; so that, whether Mr. Harte informs me or not of the particulars, I shall be ableto judge of your conduct in general by the time of your stay at Turin. Ifit is short, I shall know why; and I promise you, that you shall soonfind that I do; but if Mr. Harte lets you continue there, as long as Ipropose that you should, I shall then be convinced that you make theproper 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 thatyear, if you employ it well, perfects you. One year more of your lateapplication, with Mr. Harte, will complete your classical studies. Youwill be likewise master of your exercises in that time; and will haveformed yourself so well at that court, as to be fit to appearadvantageously at any other. These will be the happy effects of youryear's stay at Turin, if you behave, and apply yourself there as you havedone at Leipsig; but if either ill advice, or ill example, affect andseduce you, you are ruined forever. I look upon that year as yourdecisive year of probation; go through it well, and you will be allaccomplished, and fixed in my tenderest affection forever; but should thecontagion of vice of idleness lay hold of you there, your character, yourfortune, my hopes, and consequently my favor are all blasted, and you areundone. The more I love you now, from the good opinion I have of you, thegreater will be my indignation if I should have reason to change it. Hitherto you have had every possible proof of my affection, because youhave deserved it; but when you cease to deserve it, you may expect everypossible mark of my resentment. To leave nothing doubtful upon thisimportant point I will tell you fairly, beforehand, by what rule I shalljudge 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. Hecan have no other view but your good; and you will, I am sure, allow thathe 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 dissatisfiedwith 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 inyour 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 morningwith Mr. Harte, as long and in whatever manner Mr. Harte shall be pleasedto require; secondly, that you learn, uninterruptedly, your exercises ofriding, dancing, and fencing; thirdly, that you make yourself master ofthe Italian language; and lastly, that you pass your evenings in the bestcompany. I also require a strict conformity to the hours and rules of theAcademy. If you will but finish your year in this manner at Turin, I havenothing further to ask of you; and I will give you everything that youcan ask of me. You shall after that be entirely your own master; I shallthink you safe; shall lay aside all authority over you, and friendshipshall be our mutual and only tie. Weigh this, I beg of you, deliberatelyin your own mind; and consider whether the application and the degree ofrestraint which I require but for one year more, will not be amply repaidby all the advantages, and the perfect liberty, which you will receive atthe end of it. Your own good sense will, I am sure, not allow you tohesitate one moment in your choice. God bless you! Adieu. 

P. S. Sir James Grey's letters not being yet sent to me, as I thoughtthey would, I shall inclose them in my next, which I believe will get toVenice 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, datedPrague, April the 1st, N. S. , for which I desire you will return him mythanks, and assure him that I extremely approve of what he has done, andproposes eventually to do, in your way to Turin. Who would have thoughtyou were old enough to have been so well acquainted with the heroes ofthe 'Bellum Tricennale', as to be looking out for their great-grandsonsin Bohemia, with that affection with which, I am informed, you seek forthe Wallsteins, the Kinskis, etc. As I cannot ascribe it to your age, Imust to your consummate knowledge of history, that makes every country, and every century, as it were, your own. Seriously, I am told, that youare both very strong and very correct in history; of which I am extremelyglad. This is useful knowledge. 

Comte du Perron and Comte Lascaris are arrived here: the former gave me aletter from Sir Charles Williams, the latter brought me your orders. Theyare very pretty men, and have both knowledge and manners; which, thoughthey always ought, seldom go together. I examined them, particularlyComte Lascaris, concerning you; their report is a very favorable one, especially on the side of knowledge; the quickness of conception whichthey allow you I can easily credit; but the attention which they add toit pleases me the more, as I own I expected it less. Go on in the pursuitand the increase of knowledge; nay, I am sure you will, for you now knowtoo much to stop; and, if Mr. Harte would let you be idle, I am convincedyou would not. But now that you have left Leipsig, and are entered intothe great world, remember there is another object that must keep pacewith, and accompany knowledge; I mean manners, politeness, and theGraces; in which Sir Charles Williams, though very much your friend, ownsthat 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 yourmeals, as at a German ordinary; no awkward overturns of glasses, plates, and salt-cellars; no horse play. On the contrary, a gentleness ofmanners, a graceful carriage, and an insinuating address, must take theirplace. I repeat, and shall never cease repeating to you, THE GRACES, THEGRACES. 

I desire that as soon as ever you get to Turin you will apply yourselfdiligently to the Italian language; that before you leave that place, youmay know it well enough to be able to speak tolerably when you get toRome; where you will soon make yourself perfectly master of Italian, fromthe daily necessity you will be under of speaking it. In the mean time, Iinsist upon your not neglecting, much less forgetting, the German youalready know; which you may not only continue but improve, by speaking itconstantly to your Saxon boy, and as often as you can to the severalGermans you will meet in your travels. You remember, no doubt, that youmust never write to me from Turin, but in the German language andcharacter. 

I send you the inclosed letter of recommendation to Mr. Smith the King'sConsul at Venice; who can, and I daresay will, be more useful to youthere than anybody. Pray make your court, and behave your best, toMonsieur 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 allthe dissipation of masquerades, ridottos, operas, etc. With all my heart;they are decent evening's amusements, and very properly succeed thatserious application to which I am sure you devote your mornings. Thereare liberal and illiberal pleasures as well as liberal and illiberalarts: There are some pleasures that degrade a gentleman as much as sometrades could do. Sottish drinking, indiscriminate gluttony, drivingcoaches, rustic sports, such as fox-chases, horse-races, etc. , are in myopinion infinitely below the honest and industrious profession of atailor 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 principalobjects of attention, I cannot help cautioning you against giving in tothose (I will call them illiberal) pleasures (though music is commonlyreckoned one of the liberal arts) to the degree that most of yourcountrymen do, when they travel in Italy. If you love music, hear it; goto operas, concerts, and pay fiddlers to play to you; but I insist uponyour neither piping nor fiddling yourself. It puts a gentleman in a veryfrivolous, contemptible light; brings him into a great deal of badcompany; and takes up a great deal of time, which might be much betteremployed. Few things would mortify me more, than to see you bearing apart in a concert, with a fiddle under your chin, or a pipe in yourmouth. 

I have had a great deal of conversation with Comte du Perron and ComteLascaris upon your subject: and I will tell you, very truly, what Comtedu Perron (who is, in my opinion, a very pretty man) said of you: 'Il ade l'esprit, un savoir peu commun a son age, une grande vivacite, etquand il aura pris des manieres il sera parfait; car il faut avouer qu'ilsent encore le college; mars cela viendra'. I was very glad to hear, fromone whom I think so good a judge, that you wanted nothing but 'desmanieres', which I am convinced you will now soon acquire, in the companywhich henceforward you are likely to keep. But I must add, too, that ifyou 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 havethat who would not be kicked out of company; but I mean engaging, insinuating, shining manners; distinguished politeness, an almostirresistible address; a superior gracefulness in all you say and do. Itis this alone that can give all your other talents their full lustre andvalue; and, consequently, it is this which should now be thy principalobject of your attention. Observe minutely, wherever you go, the allowedand established models of good-breeding, and form yourself upon them. Whatever pleases you most in others, will infallibly please others inyou. I have often repeated this to you; now is your time of putting it inpractice. 

Pray make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him I have received hisletter from Vienna of the 16th N. S. , but that I shall not trouble himwith an answer to it till I have received the other letter which hepromises me, upon the subject of one of my last. I long to hear from himafter your settlement at Turin: the months that you are to pass therewill be very decisive ones for you. The exercises of the Academy, and themanners of courts must be attended to and acquired; and, at the sametime, your other studies continued. I am sure you will not pass, nordesire, one single idle hour there: for I do not foresee that you can, inany part of your life, put out six months to greater interest, than thosenext six at Turin. 

We will talk hereafter about your stay at Rome and in other parts ofItaly. This only I will now recommend to you; which is, to extract thespirit of every place you go to. In those places which are onlydistinguished by classical fame, and valuable remains of antiquity, haveyour classics in your hand and in your head; compare the ancientgeography and descriptions with the modern, and never fail to take notes. Rome will furnish you with business enough of that sort; but then itfurnishes you with many other objects well deserving your attention, suchas 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 havereason to interest ourselves very particularly in everything that relatesto him. I am glad, however, that no bone is broken or dislocated; whichbeing the case, I hope he will have been able to pursue his journey toVenice. In that supposition I direct this letter to you at Turin; whereit will either find, or at least not wait very long for you, as Icalculate that you will be there by the end of next month, N. S. I hopeyou reflect how much you have to do there, and that you are determined toemploy every moment of your time accordingly. You have your classical andseverer studies to continue with Mr. Harte; you have your exercises tolearn; the turn and manners of a court to acquire; reserving always sometime for the decent amusements and pleasures of a gentleman. You see I amnever against pleasures; I loved them myself when I was of your age, andit is as reasonable that you should love them now. But I insist upon itthat pleasures are very combinable with both business and studies, andhave a much better relish from the mixture. The man who cannot joinbusiness and pleasure is either a formal coxcomb in the one, or a sensualbeast in the other. Your evenings I therefore allot for company, assemblies, balls, and such sort of amusements, as I look upon those tobe the best schools for the manners of a gentleman; which nothing cangive but use, observation, and experience. You have, besides, Italian tolearn, 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 verynecessary for you at Rome, and in other parts of Italy; and if you arewell grounded in it while you are at Turin (as you easily may, for it isa very easy language), your subsequent stay at Rome will make you perfectin it. I would also have you acquire a general notion of fortification; Imean so far as not to be ignorant of the terms, which you will often hearmentioned in company, such as ravelin, bastion; glacis, contrescarpe, etc. In order to this, I do not propose that you should make a study offortification, as if you were to be an engineer, but a very easy way ofknowing as much as you need know of them, will be to visit often thefortifications of Turin, in company with some old officer or engineer, who will show and explain to you the several works themselves; by whichmeans you will get a clearer notion of them than if you were to see themonly upon paper for seven years together. Go to originals whenever youcan, and trust to copies and descriptions as little as possible. At youridle hours, while you are at Turin, pray read the history of the House ofSavoy, which has produced a great many very great men. The late king, Victor Amedee, was undoubtedly one, and the present king is, in myopinion, another. In general, I believe that little princes are morelikely to be great men than those whose more extensive dominions andsuperior strength flatter them with a security, which commonly producesnegligence and indolence. A little prince, in the neighborhood of greatones, must be alert and look out sharp, if he would secure his owndominions: much more still if he would enlarge them. He must watch forconjunctures or endeavor to make them. No princes have ever possessedthis art better than those of the House of Savoy; who have enlarged theirdominions prodigiously within a century by profiting of conjunctures. 

I send you here inclosed a letter from Comte Lascaris, who is a warmfriend of yours: I desire that you will answer it very soon andcordially, and remember to make your compliments in it to Comte duPerron. A young man should never be wanting in those attentions; theycost little and bring in a great deal, by getting you people's good wordand affection. They gain the heart, to which I have always advised you toapply yourself particularly; it guides ten thousand for one that, reasoninfluences. 

I cannot end this letter or (I believe) any other, without repeating myrecommendation of THE GRACES. They are to be met with at Turin: for God'ssake, sacrifice to them, and they will be propitious. People mistakegrossly, to imagine that the least awkwardness, either in matter ormanner, mind or body, is an indifferent thing and not worthy ofattention. It may possibly be a weakness in me, but in short we are allso made: I confess to you fairly, that when you shall come home and thatI first see you, if I find you ungraceful in your address, and awkward inyour person and dress, it will be impossible for me to love you half sowell as I should otherwise do, let your intrinsic merit and knowledge beever 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 sameaffection and partiality for you, and to whose hearts you must make yourown way. 

Remember to write to me constantly while you are in Italy, in the Germanlanguage and character, till you can write to me in Italian; which willnot be till you have been some time at Rome. 

Adieu, my dear boy: may you turn out what Mr. Harte and I wish you. Imust add that if you do not, it will be both your own fault and your ownmisfortune. 

LETTER LXX

LONDON, May 15, O. S. 1749. 

DEAR BOY: This letter will, I hope, find you settled to your seriousstudies, and your necessary exercises at Turin, after the hurry and thedissipation of the Carnival at Venice. I mean that your stay at Turinshould, and I flatter myself that it will, be an useful and ornamentalperiod of your education; but at the same time I must tell you, that allmy affection for you has never yet given me so much anxiety, as thatwhich I now feel. While you are in danger, I shall be in fear; and youare in danger at Turin. Mr. Harte will by his care arm you as well as hecan against it; but your own good sense and resolution can alone make youinvulnerable. I am informed, there are now many English at the Academy atTurin; 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, theindecent behavior, and the illiberal views, of my young countrymen. Abroad; especially wherever they are in numbers together. Ill example isof itself dangerous enough; but those who give it seldom stop there; theyadd their infamous exhortations and invitations; and, if they fail, theyhave recourse to ridicule, which is harder for one of your age andinexperience 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 theyimpudently call) friendships with these people; which are, in truth, onlycombinations and conspiracies against good morals and good manners. Thereis commonly, in young people, a facility that makes them unwilling torefuse anything that is asked of them; a 'mauvaise honte' that makes themashamed to refuse; and, at the same time, an ambition of pleasing andshining in the company they keep: these several causes produce the besteffect in good company, but the very worst in bad. If people had no vicesbut their own, few would have so many as they have. For my own part, Iwould sooner wear other people's clothes than their vices; and they wouldsit upon me just as well. I hope you will have none; but if ever youhave, I beg, at least, they may be all your own. Vices of adoption are, of all others, the most disgraceful and unpardonable. There are degreesin vices, as well as in virtues; and I must do my countrymen the justiceto say, that they generally take their vices in the lower degree. Theirgallantry is the infamous mean debauchery of stews, justly attended andrewarded by the loss of their health, as well as their character. Theirpleasures of the table end in beastly drunkenness, low riot, brokenwindows, and very often (as they well deserve), broken bones. They gamefor the sake of the vice, not of the amusement; and therefore carry it toexcess; undo, or are undone by their companions. By such conduct, and insuch company abroad, they come home, the unimproved, illiberal, andungentlemanlike creatures that one daily sees them, that is, in the parkand in the streets, for one never meets them in good company; where theyhave 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 bluefrocks, with oaken sticks in their ends, and their hair greasy andunpowdered, tucked up under their hats of an enormous size. Thus finishedand adorned by their travels, they become the disturbers of play-houses;they break the windows, and commonly the landlords, of the taverns wherethey drink; and are at once the support, the terror, and the victims, ofthe bawdy-houses they frequent. These poor mistaken people think theyshine, and so they do indeed; but it is as putrefaction shines in thedark. 

I am not now preaching to you, like an old fellow, upon their religiousor moral texts; I am persuaded that you do not want the best instructionsof 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 youto take all the pleasures that reason points out, and that decencywarrants. I will therefore suppose, for argument's sake (for upon noother account can it be supposed), that all the vices above mentionedwere perfectly innocent in themselves: they would still degrade, vilify, and sink those who practiced them; would obstruct their rising in theworld by debasing their characters; and give them low turn of mind, andmanners absolutely inconsistent with their making any figure in upperlife 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 theprofligate exhortations (for I cannot call them temptations) of thoseunfortunate young people. On the other hand, when they would engage youin these schemes, content yourself with a decent but steady refusal;avoid controversy upon such plain points. You are too young to convertthem; and, I trust, too wise to be converted by them. Shun them not onlyin reality, but even in appearance, if you would be well received in goodcompany; for people will always be shy of receiving a man who comes froma place where the plague rages, let him look ever so healthy. There aresome expressions, both in French and English, and some characters, bothin those two and in other countries, which have, I dare say, misled manyyoung men to their ruin. 'Une honnete debauche, une jolie debauche; "Anagreeable rake, a man of pleasure. " Do not think that this meansdebauchery and profligacy; nothing like it. It means, at most, theaccidental and unfrequent irregularities of youth and vivacity, inopposition to dullness, formality, and want of spirit. A 'commercegalant', insensibly formed with a woman of fashion; a glass of wine ortwo too much, unwarily taken in the warmth and joy of good company; orsome innocent frolic, by which nobody is injured, are the utmost boundsof that life of pleasure, which a man of sense and decency, who has aregard for his character, will allow himself, or be allowed by others. Those who transgress them in the hopes of shining, miss their aim, andbecome 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 havetold you before, Mr. Harte has the strictest orders to carry you awayimmediately from thence, upon the first and least symptom of infectionthat he discovers about you; and I know him to be too conscientiouslyscrupulous, and too much your friend and mine not to execute themexactly. Moreover, I will inform you, that I shall have constant accountsof your behavior from Comte Salmour, the Governor of the Academy, whoseson is now here, and my particular friend. I have, also, other goodchannels of intelligence, of which I do not apprise you. But, supposingthat all turns out well at Turin, yet, as I propose your being at Romefor the jubilee, at Christmas, I desire that you will apply yourselfdiligently to your exercises of dancing, fencing, and riding at theAcademy; as well for the sake of your health and growth, as to fashionand supple you. You must not neglect your dress neither, but take care tobe '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 inperfect 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 whohave bad ones, should keep them clean; for a dirty mouth is, in my mind, ill manners. In short, neglect nothing that can possibly please. Athousand nameless little things, which nobody can describe, but whicheverybody feels, conspire to form that WHOLE of pleasing; as the severalpieces of a Mosaic work though, separately, of little beauty or value, when properly joined, form those beautiful figures which pleaseeverybody. A look, a gesture, an attitude, a tone of voice, all beartheir parts in the great work of pleasing. The art of pleasing is moreparticularly necessary in your intended profession than perhaps in anyother; it is, in truth, the first half of your business; for if you donot please the court you are sent to, you will be of very little use tothe court you are sent from. Please the eyes and the ears, they willintroduce you to the heart; and nine times in ten, the heart governs theunderstanding. 

Make your court particularly, and show distinguished attentions to suchmen and women as are best at court, highest in the fashion, and in theopinion 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 hasproduced; observe that nature, instead of being exhausted by thoseefforts, 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, andconclude 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 artsare 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 tonobody. 

What I have said with regard to my countrymen in general, does not extendto them all without exception; there are some who have both merit andmanners. Your friend, Mr. Stevens, is among the latter; and I approve ofyour connection with him. You may happen to meet with some others, whosefriendship may be of great use to you hereafter, either from theirsuperior talents, or their rank and fortune; cultivate them; but then Idesire that Mr. Harte may be the judge of those persons. 

Adieu my dear child! Consider seriously the importance of the two nextyears 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 torepeat and even amplify the praise to the party concerned. This is, ofall flattery, the most pleasing, and consequently the most effectual. There are other, and many other, inoffensive arts of this kind, which arenecessary in the course of the world, and which he who practices theearliest, will please the most, and rise the soonest. The spirits andvivacity of youth are apt to neglect them as useless, or reject them astroublesome. But subsequent knowledge and experience of the world remindsus of their importance, commonly when it is too late. The principal ofthese 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 areinwardly moved or agitated; and the discovery of which gives cooler andabler people such infinite advantages over us, not only in greatbusiness, but in all the most common occurrences of life. A man who doesnot possess himself enough to hear disagreeable things without visiblemarks of anger and change of countenance, or agreeable ones, withoutsudden bursts of joy and expansion of countenance, is at the mercy ofevery artful knave or pert coxcomb; the former will provoke or please youby design, to catch unguarded words or looks by which he will easilydecipher the secrets of your heart, of which you should keep the keyyourself, and trust it with no man living. The latter will, by hisabsurdity, and without intending it, produce the same discoveries ofwhich other people will avail themselves. You will say, possibly, thatthis coolness must be constitutional, and consequently does not dependupon 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, ifproperly used, will get the better: and a man may as surely get a habitof letting his reason prevail over his constitution, as of letting, asmost people do, the latter prevail over the former. If you find yourselfsubject to sudden starts of passion or madness (for I see no differencebetween 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 aspossible; which steadiness you may get a habit of, by constant attention. I should desire nothing better, in any negotiation, than to have to dowith one of those men of warm, quick passions; which I would take care toset in motion. By artful provocations I would extort rash unguardedexpressions; and, by hinting at all the several things that I couldsuspect, infallibly discover the true one, by the alteration itoccasioned in the countenance of the person. 'Volto sciolto con pensieristretti', is a most useful maxim in business. It is so necessary at somegames, such as 'Berlan Quinze', etc. , that a man who had not the commandof his temper and countenance, would infallibly be outdone by those whohad, even though they played fair. Whereas, in business, you always playwith sharpers; to whom, at least, you should give no fair advantages. Itmay be objected, that I am now recommending dissimulation to you; I bothown and justify it. It has been long said, 'Qui nescit dissimulare nescitregnare': I go still further, and say, that without some dissimulation nobusiness can be carried on at all. It is SIMULATION that is false, mean, and criminal: that is the cunning which Lord Bacon calls crooked orleft-handed wisdom, and which is never made use of but by those who havenot true wisdom. And the same great man says, that dissimulation is onlyto hide our own cards, whereas simulation is put on, in order to lookinto 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 firstopportunity, says very justly that simulation is a STILETTO, --not only anunjust but an unlawful weapon, and the use of it very rarely to beexcused, never justified. Whereas dissimulation is a shield, as secrecyis armor; and it is no more possible to preserve secrecy in business, without same degree of dissimulation, than it is to succeed in businesswithout secrecy. He goes on, and says, that those two arts ofdissimulation and secrecy are like the alloy mingled with pure ore: alittle is necessary, and will not debase the coin below its properstandard; but if more than that little be employed (that is, simulationand cunning), the coin loses its currency, and the coiner his credit. 

Make yourself absolute master, therefore, of your temper and yourcountenance, so far, at least, as that no visible change do appear ineither, whatever you may feel inwardly. This may be difficult, but it isby no means impossible; and, as a man of sense never attemptsimpossibilities on one hand, on the other, he is never discouraged bydifficulties: on the contrary, he redoubles his industry and hisdiligence; he perseveres, and infallibly prevails at last. In any pointwhich prudence bids you pursue, and which a manifest utility attends, letdifficulties only animate your industry, not deter you from the pursuit. If one way has failed, try another; be active, persevere, and you willconquer. Some people are to be reasoned, some flattered, someintimidated, and some teased into a thing; but, in general, all are to bebrought into it at last, if skillfully applied to, properly managed, andindefatigably attacked in their several weak places. The time shouldlikewise be judiciously chosen; every man has his 'mollia tempora', butthat is far from being all day long; and you would choose your time veryill, if you applied to a man about one business, when his head was fullof another, or when his heart was full of grief, anger, or any otherdisagreeable sentiment. 

In order to judge of the inside of others, study your own; for men ingeneral are very much alike; and though one has one prevailing passion, and another has another, yet their operations are much the same; andwhatever 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 yourwill; and you may, in a great degree, know all mankind. For instance, doyou find yourself hurt and mortified when another makes you feel hissuperiority, and your own inferiority, in knowledge, parts, rank, orfortune? You will certainly take great care not to make a person whosegood will, good word, interest, esteem, or friendship, you would gain, feel that superiority in you, in case you have it. If disagreeableinsinuations, sly sneers, or repeated contradictions, tease and irritateyou, would you use them where you wish to engage and please? Surely not, and I hope you wish to engage and please, almost universally. Thetemptation of saying a smart and witty thing, or 'bon mot'; and themalicious applause with which it is commonly received, has made peoplewho can say them, and, still oftener, people who think they can, butcannot, and yet try, more enemies, and implacable ones too, than any oneother thing that I know of: When such things, then, shall happen to besaid at your expense (as sometimes they certainly will), reflectseriously upon the sentiments of uneasiness, anger, and resentment whichthey excite in you; and consider whether it can be prudent, by the samemeans, to excite the same sentiments in others against you. It is adecided folly to lose a friend for a jest; but, in my mind, it is not amuch less degree of folly to make an enemy of an indifferent and neutralperson, for the sake of a 'bon mot'. When things of this kind happen tobe said of you, the most prudent way is to seem not to suppose that theyare meant at you, but to dissemble and conceal whatever degree of angeryou may feel inwardly; but, should they be so plain that you cannot besupposed ignorant of their meaning, to join in the laugh of the companyagainst yourself; acknowledge the hit to be a fair one, and the jest agood one, and play off the whole thing in seeming good humor; but by nomeans reply in the same way; which only shows that you are hurt, andpublishes the victory which you might have concealed. Should the thingsaid, indeed injure your honor or moral character, there is but oneproper 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 offashion, for I cannot suppose you capable of conversing with any others)deserves some share in your reflections. They are a numerous andloquacious body: their hatred would be more prejudicial than theirfriendship can be advantageous to you. A general complaisance andattention to that sex is therefore established by custom, and certainlynecessary. But where you would particularly please anyone, whosesituation, interest, or connections, can be of use to you, you must showparticular preference. The least attentions please, the greatest charmthem. The innocent but pleasing flattery of their persons, however gross, is greedily swallowed and kindly digested: but a seeming regard for theirunderstandings, a seeming desire of, and deference for, their advice, together with a seeming confidence in their moral virtues, turns theirheads entirely in your favor. Nothing shocks them so much as the leastappearance of that contempt which they are apt to suspect men ofentertaining of their capacities; and you may be very sure of gainingtheir friendship if you seem to think it worth gaining. Heredissimulation is very often necessary, and even simulation sometimesallowable; which, as it pleases them, may, be useful to you, and isinjurious to nobody. 

This torn sheet, which I did not observe when I began upon it, as italters the figure, shortens, too, the length of my letter. It may verywell afford it: my anxiety for you carries me insensibly to theselengths. I am apt to flatter myself, that my experience, at the latterend of my life, may be of use to you at the beginning of yours; and I donot grudge the greatest trouble, if it can procure you the leastadvantage. I even repeat frequently the same things, the better toimprint them on your young, and, I suppose, yet giddy mind; and I shallthink that part of my time the best employed, that contributes to makeyou 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 itwill find you well: I direct it eventually to Laubach; from whence Isuppose you have taken care to have your letters sent after you. Ireceived no account from Mr. Harte by last post, and the mail due thisday is not yet come in; so that my informations come down no lower thanthe 2d June, N. S. , the date of Mr. Harte's last letter. As I am now easyabout your health, I am only curious about your motions, which I hopehave been either to Inspruck or Verona; for I disapprove extremely ofyour proposed long and troublesome journey to Switzerland. Wherever youmay be, I recommend to you to get as much Italian as you can, before yougo either to Rome or Naples: a little will be of great use to you uponthe road; and the knowledge of the grammatical part, which you can easilyacquire in two or three months, will not only facilitate your progress, but accelerate your perfection in that language, when you go to thoseplaces where it is generally spoken; as Naples, Rome, Florence, etc. 

Should the state of your health not yet admit of your usual applicationto books, you may, in a great degree, and I hope you will, repair thatloss by useful and instructive conversations with Mr. Harte: you may, forexample, 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 ofrhetoric; of all which Mr. Harte will give you clearer ideas in half anhour, by word of mouth, than the books of most of the dull fellows whohave written upon those subjects would do in a week. 

I have waited so long for the post, which I hoped would come, that thepost, which is just going out, obliges me to cut this letter short. Godbless you, my dear child! and restore you soon to perfect health!

My compliments to Mr. Harte; to whose care your life is the least thingthat you owe. 

LETTER LXXIII

LONDON, June 22, O. S. 1749. 

DEAR BOY: The outside of your letter of the 7th N. S. , directed by yourown hand, gave me more pleasure than the inside of any other letter everdid. I received it yesterday at the same time with one from Mr. Harts ofthe 6th. They arrived at a very proper time, for they found aconsultation of physicians in my room, upon account of a fever which Ihad 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 thatYOUR SWELLINGS COME AND GO VARIABLY, but as he mentions nothing of yourcoughing, spitting, or sweating, the doctors take it for granted that youare entirely free from those three bad symptoms: and from thenceconclude, that, the pain which you sometimes feel upon your lungs is onlysymptomatical of your rheumatic disorder, from the pressure of themuscles which hinders the free play of the lungs. But, however, as thelungs are a point of the utmost importance and delicacy, they insist uponyour drinking, in all events, asses' milk twice a day, and goats' whey asoften as you please, the oftener the better: in your common diet, theyrecommend an attention to pectorals, such as sago, barley, turnips, etc. These rules are equally good in rheumatic as in consumptive cases; youwill therefore, I hope, strictly observe them; for I take it for grantedthat you are above the silly likings or dislikings, in which silly peopleindulge their tastes, at the expense of their health. 

I approve of your going to Venice, as much as I disapproved of your goingto Switzerland. I suppose that you are by this time arrived; and, in thatsupposition, I direct this letter there. But if you should find the heattoo great, or the water offensive, at this time of the year, I would haveyou go immediately to Verona, and stay there till the great heats areover, before you return to Venice. 

The time which you will probably pass at Venice will allow you to makeyourself master of that intricate and singular form of government, ofwhich few of our travelers know anything. Read, ask, and see everythingthat is relative to it. There are likewise many valuable remains of theremotest antiquity, and many fine pieces of the Antico-moderno, all whichdeserve a different sort of attention from that which your countrymencommonly give them. They go to see them, as they go to see the lions, andkings on horseback, at the Tower here, only to say that they have seenthem. You will, I am sure, view them in another light; you will considerthem as you would a poem, to which indeed they are akin. You will observewhether the sculptor has animated his stone, or the painter his canvas, into the just expression of those sentiments and passions which shouldcharacterize and mark their several figures. You will examine, likewise, whether in their groups there be a unity of action, or proper relation; atruth of dress and manners. Sculpture and painting are very justly calledliberal arts; a lively and strong imagination, together with a justobservation, being absolutely necessary to excel in either; which, in myopinion, 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 declineof that country. The Venetian school produced many great painters, suchas Paul Veronese, Titian, Palma, etc. , of whom you will see, as well inprivate houses as in churches, very fine pieces. The Last Supper, of PaulVeronese, in the church of St. George, is reckoned his capitalperformance, and deserves your attention; as does also the famous pictureof 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; thelatter, with nothing that I know of but bad company. 

Learn Italian as fast as ever you can, that you may be able to understandit tolerably, and speak it a little before you go to Rome and Naples:There are many good historians in that language, and excellenttranslations of the ancient Greek and Latin authors; which are called theCollana; but the only two Italian poets that deserve your acquaintanceare Ariosto and Tasso; and they undoubtedly have great merit. 

Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him that I have consultedabout his leg, and that if it was only a sprain, he ought to keep a tightbandage about the part, for a considerable time, and do nothing else toit. 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 trustis 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, forthe future, turn upon less important points, comparatively; though stillvery 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 theirfull, 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 commonformerly, but are now very scarce, of transporting myself, by a wish, toany given place, my first expedition would be to Venice, there toRECONNOITRE you, unseen myself. I would first take you in the morning, atbreakfast with Mr. Harte, and attend to your natural and unguardedconversation with him; from whence, I think, I could pretty well judge ofyour natural turn of mind. How I should rejoice if I overheard you askinghim pertinent questions upon useful subjects! or making judiciousreflections upon the studies of that morning, or the occurrences of theformer day! Then I would follow you into the different companies of theday, and carefully observe in what manner you presented yourself to, andbehaved yourself with, men of sense and dignity; whether your address wasrespectful, and yet easy; your air modest, and yet unembarrassed; and Iwould, at the same time, penetrate into their thoughts, in order to knowwhether your first 'abord' made that advantageous impression upon theirfancies, which a certain address, air, and manners, never fail doing. Iwould afterward follow you to the mixed companies of the evening; such asassemblies, suppers, etc. , and there watch if you trifled gracefully andgenteelly: if your good-breeding and politeness made way for your partsand knowledge. With what pleasure should I hear people cry out, 'Chegarbato cavaliere, com' e pulito, disinvolto, spiritoso'! If all thesethings turned out to my mind, I would immediately assume my own shape, become visible, and embrace you: but if the contrary happened, I wouldpreserve my invisibility, make the best of my way home again, and sink mydisappointment upon you and the world. As, unfortunately, thesesupernatural powers of genii, fairies, sylphs, and gnomes, have had thefate of the oracles they succeeded, and have ceased for some time, I mustcontent 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 thenreceive from people who have seen you. However, I believe it would do youno harm, if you would always imagine that I were present, and saw andheard everything you did and said. 

There is a certain concurrence of various little circumstances whichcompose what the French call 'l'aimable'; and which, now that you areentering into the world, you ought to make it your particular study toacquire. Without them, your learning will be pedantry, your conversationoften improper, always unpleasant, and your figure, however good initself, awkward and unengaging. A diamond, while rough, has indeed itsintrinsic value; but, till polished, is of no use, and would neither besought for nor worn. Its great lustre, it is true, proceeds from itssolidity and strong cohesion of parts; but without the last polish, itwould remain forever a dirty, rough mineral, in the cabinets of some fewcurious collectors. You have; I hope, that solidity and cohesion ofparts; take now as much pains to get the lustre. Good company, if youmake the right use of it, will cut you into shape, and give you the truebrilliant polish. A propos of diamonds: I have sent you by Sir JamesGray, the King's Minister, who will be at Venice about the middle ofSeptember, my own diamond buckles; which are fitter for your young feetthan for my old ones: they will properly adorn you; they would onlyexpose me. If Sir James finds anybody whom he can trust, and who will beat Venice before him, he will send them by that person; but if he shouldnot, and that you should be gone from Venice before he gets there, hewill in that case give them to your banker, Monsieur Cornet, to forwardto you, wherever you may then be. You are now of an age, at which theadorning your person is not only not ridiculous, but proper and becoming. Negligence would imply either an indifference about pleasing, or else aninsolent security of pleasing, without using those means to which othersare obliged to have recourse. A thorough cleanliness in your person is asnecessary for your own health, as it is not to be offensive to otherpeople. Washing yourself, and rubbing your body and limbs frequently witha fleshbrush, will conduce as much to health as to cleanliness. Aparticular attention to the cleanliness of your mouth, teeth, hands, andnails, is but common decency, in order not to offend people's eyes andnoses. 

I send you here inclosed a letter of recommendation to the Duke ofNivernois, the French Ambassador at Rome; who is, in my opinion, one ofthe prettiest men I ever knew in my life. I do not know a better modelfor you to form yourself upon; pray observe and frequent him as much asyou can. He will show you what manners and graces are. I shall, bysuccessive posts, send you more letters, both for Rome and Naples, whereit will be your own fault entirely if you do not keep the very bestcompany. 

As you will meet swarms of Germans wherever you go, I desire that youwill constantly converse with them in their own language, which willimprove you in that language, and be, at the same time, an agreeablepiece of civility to them. 

Your stay in Italy will, I do not doubt, make you critically master ofItalian; I know it may, if you please, for it is a very regular, andconsequently 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 tohis letter of the 20th June, N. S. , which I had received but the daybefore, after an interval of eight posts; during which I did not knowwhether 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 youare arrived in perfect health, after the baths of Tiefler, in case youhave made use of them. I hope they are not hot baths, if your lungs arestill tender. 

Your friend, the Comte d'Einsiedlen, is arrived here: he has been at mydoor, and I have been at his; but we have not yet met. He will dine withme some day this week. Comte Lascaris inquires after you very frequently, and with great affection; pray answer the letter which I forwarded to youa great while ago from him. You may inclose your answer to me, and I willtake care to give it him. Those attentions ought never to be omitted;they cost little, and please a great deal; but the neglect of themoffends 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 ordisliked, in the general run of the world. Examine yourself why you likesuch and such people, and dislike such and such others; and you willfind, that those different sentiments proceed from very slight causes. Moral virtues are the foundation of society in general, and of friendshipin particular; but attentions, manners, and graces, both adorn andstrengthen them. My heart is so set upon your pleasing, and consequentlysucceeding in the world, that possibly I have already (and probably shallagain) repeat the same things over and over to you. However, to err, if Ido err, on the surer side, I shall continue to communicate to you thoseobservations 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 muchat your service, if you please to wear it. I premise that it is not myimagination, but my memory, that gives you these rules: I am not writingpretty; but useful reflections. A man of sense soon discovers, because hecarefully observes, where, and how long, he is welcome; and takes care toleave the company, at least as soon as he is wished out of it. Foolsnever perceive where they are either ill-timed or illplaced. 

I am this moment agreeably stopped, in the course of my reflections, bythe 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 ofhis and your letters to me must have miscarried; for he says that I havehad regular accounts of you: whereas all those accounts have been onlyhis letter of the 6th and yours of the 7th June, N. S. ; his of the 20thJune, 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, allis 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 tocome. Keep in a course of asses' or goats' milk, for one is as good asthe other, and possibly the latter is the best; and let your common foodbe 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 ofrecommendation of a man of his merit and learning will, to be sure, be ofgreat use to you among the learned world in Italy; that is, provided youtake care to keep up to the character he gives you in them; otherwisethey will only add to your disgrace. 

Consider that you have lost a good deal of time by your illness; fetch itup now that you are well. At present you should be a good economist ofyour moments, of which company and sights will claim a considerableshare; so that those which remain for study must be not only attentively, but greedily employed. But indeed I do not suspect you of one singlemoment's idleness in the whole day. Idleness is only the refuge of weakminds, and the holiday of fools. I do not call good company and liberalpleasures, idleness; far from it: I recommend to you a good share ofboth. 

I send you here inclosed a letter for Cardinal Alexander Albani, whichyou will give him, as soon as you get to Rome, and before you deliver anyothers; the Purple expects that preference; go next to the Duc deNivernois, to whom you are recommended by several people at Paris, aswell 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 mostremarkable eras; such as the Ligue de eambray, in 1509, by which it hadlike to have been destroyed; and the conspiracy formed by the Marquis deBedmar, the Spanish Ambassador, to subject it to the Crown of Spain. Thefamous disputes between that republic and the Pope are worth yourknowledge; and the writings of the celebrated and learned Fra Paolo diSarpi, upon that occasion, worth your reading. It was once the greatestcommercial power in Europe, and in the 14th and 15th centuries made aconsiderable figure; but at present its commerce is decayed, and itsriches consequently decreased; and, far from meddling now with theaffairs of the Continent, it owes its security to its neutrality andinefficiency; and that security will last no longer than till one of thegreat Powers in Europe engrosses the rest of Italy; an event which thiscentury possibly may, but which the next probably will see. 

Your friend Comte d'Ensiedlen and his governor, have been with me thismoment, 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 gladderto hear what they say of you. Go on, and continue to deserve the praisesof 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 antecedentin date to Mr. Harte's last. I never in my life heard of bathing fourhours 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, wasof 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 yourbathing; 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 (asyou do not yet) new boiling. 

Though, in that letter of mine, I proposed your going to Inspruck, it wasonly in opposition to Lausanne, which I thought much too long and painfula 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 sometime, and which is a much better place for you to reside at, till you goto Naples, than either Tieffer or Laubach. I love capitals extremely; itis in capitals that the best company is always to be found; andconsequently, the best manners to be learned. The very best provincialplaces have some awkwardness, that distinguish their manners from thoseof the metropolis. 'A propos' of capitals, I send you here two letters ofrecommendation to Naples, from Monsieur Finochetti, the NeapolitanMinister at The Hague; and in my next I shall send you two more, from thesame person, to the same place. 

I have examined Comte d'Einsiedlen so narrowly concerning you, that Ihave 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 willnever speak it well, which I am very desirous that you should do, and ofwhich you would, in time, find the advantage. Whoever has not the commandof a language, and does not speak it with facility, will always appearbelow himself when he converses in that language; the want of words andphrases will cramp and lame his thoughts. As you now know German enoughto express yourself tolerably, speaking it very often will soon make youspeak it very well: and then you will appear in it whatever you are. Whatwith your own Saxon servant and the swarms of Germans you will meet withwherever you go, you may have opportunities of conversing in thatlanguage half the day; and I do very seriously desire that you will, orelse all the pains that you have already taken about it are lost. Youwill remember likewise, that, till you can write in Italian, you arealways to write to me in German. 

Mr. Harte's conjecture concerning your distemper seems to be a veryreasonable one; it agrees entirely with mine, which is the universal ruleby which every man judges of another man's opinion. But, whatever mayhave been the cause of your rheumatic disorder, the effects are still tobe 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 yourmedicines; both which should be of a sweetening alkaline nature, andpromotive of perspiration. Rheumatic complaints are very apt to return, and those returns would be very vexatious and detrimental to you; at yourage, and in your course of travels. Your time is, now particularly, inestimable; and every hour of it, at present, worth more than a yearwill be to you twenty years hence. You are now laying the foundation ofyour future character and fortune; and one single stone wanting in thatfoundation is of more consequence than fifty in the superstructure; whichcan always be mended and embellished if the foundation is solid. To carryon the metaphor of building: I would wish you to be a Corinthian edificeupon a Tuscan foundation; the latter having the utmost strength andsolidity to support, and the former all possible ornaments to decorate. The Tuscan column is coarse, clumsy, and unpleasant; nobody looks at ittwice; the Corinthian fluted column is beautiful and attractive; butwithout a solid foundation, can hardly be seen twice, because it mustsoon 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 Ireceived by the last post, I am at length informed of the particularsboth of your past distemper, and of your future motions. As to theformer, I am now convinced, and so is Dr. Shaw, that your lungs were onlysymptomatically affected; and that the rheumatic tendency is what you arechiefly now to guard against, but (for greater security) with dueattention still to your lungs, as if they had been, and still were, alittle affected. In either case, a cooling, pectoral regimen is equallygood. By cooling, I mean cooling in its consequences, not cold to thepalate; for nothing is more dangerous than very cold liquors, at the verytime 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 withincertain bounds as to quantity; for I have known many of my countrymen dieof bloody-fluxes, by indulging in too great a quantity of fruit, in thosecountries where, from the goodness and ripeness of it, they thought itcould do them no harm. 'Ne quid nimis', is a most excellent rule ineverything; but commonly the least observed, by people of your age, inanything. 

As to your future motions, I am very well pleased with them, and greatlyprefer your intended stay at Verona to Venice, whose almost stagnatingwaters must, at this time of the year, corrupt the air. Verona has a pureand 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 greatheats 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 israther over caution) in case of the last remains of a pulmonic disorder. The amphitheatre at Verona is worth your attention; as are also manybuildings there and at Vicenza, of the famous Andrea Palladio, whosetaste and style of buildings were truly antique. It would not be amiss, if you employed three or four days in learning the five orders ofarchitecture, with their general proportions; and you may know all thatyou need know of them in that time. Palladio's own book of architectureis the best you can make use of for that purpose, skipping over themechanical 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 hasproduced no coldness. I hope and believe, you are now so much master ofthem, 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 agreater share than that of your time, considering the many other thingsyou have to learn and to do. You must know how to speak and write Italianperfectly; you must learn some logic, some geometry, and some astronomy;not to mention your exercises, where they are to be learned; and, aboveall, you must learn the world, which is not soon learned; and only to belearned by frequenting good and various companies. 

Consider, therefore, how precious every moment of time is to you now. Themore you apply to your business, the more you will taste your pleasures. The exercise of the mind in the morning whets the appetite for thepleasures of the evening, as much as the exercise of the body whets theappetite for dinner. Business and pleasure, rightly understood, mutuallyassist each other, instead of being enemies, as silly or dull peopleoften think them. No man tastes pleasures truly, who does not earn themby previous business, and few people do business well, who do nothingelse. Remember that when I speak of pleasures, I always mean the elegantpleasures of a rational being, and, not the brutal ones of a swine. Imean 'la bonne Chere', short of gluttony; wine, infinitely short ofdrunkenness; play, without the least gaming; and gallantry withoutdebauchery. There is a line in all these things which men of sense, forgreater security, take care to keep a good deal on the right side of; forsickness, pain, contempt and infamy, lie immediately on the other side ofit. Men of sense and merit, in all other respects, may have had some ofthese failings; but then those few examples, instead of inviting us toimitation, should only put us the more upon our guard against suchweaknesses: and whoever thinks them fashionable, will not be so himself;I have often known a fashionable man have some one vice; but I never inmy life knew a vicious man a fashionable man. Vice is as degrading as itis 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, theirmanners, in a word, our reflections upon the world. They may help you toform 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 tocommunicate it to young men. Their masters teach them, singly, thelanguages or the sciences of their several departments; and are indeedgenerally incapable of teaching them the world: their parents are oftenso too, or at least neglect doing it, either from avocations, indifference, or from an opinion that throwing them into the world (asthey call it) is the best way of teaching it them. This last notion is ina great degree true; that is, the world can doubtless never be well knownby theory: practice is absolutely necessary; but surely it is of greatuse 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 bysome experienced traveler. 

There is a certain dignity of manners absolutely necessary, to make eventhe most valuable character either respected or respectable. --[Meaningworthy of respect. ]

Horse-play, romping, frequent and loud fits of laughter, jokes, waggery, and indiscriminate familiarity, will sink both merit and knowledge into adegree of contempt. They compose at most a merry fellow; and a merryfellow was never yet a respectable man. Indiscriminate familiarity eitheroffends your superiors, or else dubbs you their dependent and ledcaptain. It gives your inferiors just, but troublesome and improperclaims of equality. A joker is near akin to a buffoon; and neither ofthem is the least related to wit. Whoever is admitted or sought for, incompany, upon any other account than that of his merit and manners, isnever respected there, but only made use of. We will have such-a-one, forhe sings prettily; we will invite such-a-one to a ball, for he danceswell; we will have such-a-one at supper, for he is always joking andlaughing; we will ask another, because he plays deep at all games, orbecause 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 thingsingly, is singly that thing and will never be considered in any otherlight; consequently never respected, let his merits be what they will. 

This dignity of manners, which I recommend so much to you, is not only asdifferent from pride, as true courage is from blustering, or true witfrom joking; but is absolutely inconsistent with it; for nothing vilifiesand degrades more than pride. The pretensions of the proud man areoftener treated with sneer and contempt, than with indignation; as weoffer ridiculously too little to a tradesman, who asks ridiculously toomuch for his goods; but we do not haggle with one who only asks a justand reasonable price. 

Abject flattery and indiscriminate assentation degrade as much asindiscriminate contradiction and noisy debate disgust. But a modestassertion of one's own opinion, and a complaisant acquiescence to otherpeople's, preserve dignity. 

Vulgar, low expressions, awkward motions and address, vilify, as theyimply either a very low turn of mind, or low education and low company. 

Frivolous curiosity about trifles, and a laborious attention to littleobjects which neither require nor deserve a moment's thought, lower aman; who from thence is thought (and not unjustly) incapable of greatermatters. Cardinal de Retz, very sagaciously, marked out Cardinal Chigifor a little mind, from the moment that he told him he had wrote threeyears with the same pen, and that it was an excellent good one still. 

A certain degree of exterior seriousness in looks and motions givesdignity, without excluding wit and decent cheerfulness, which are alwaysserious themselves. A constant smirk upon the face, and a whifingactivity of the body, are strong indications of futility. Whoever is in ahurry, shows that the thing he is about is too big for him. Haste andhurry are very different things. 

I have only mentioned some of those things which may, and do, in theopinion of the world, lower and sink characters, in other respectsvaluable enough, --but I have taken no notice of those that affect andsink the moral characters. They are sufficiently obvious. A man who haspatiently been kicked may as well pretend to courage, as a man blasted byvices and crimes may to dignity of any kind. But an exterior decency anddignity of manners will even keep such a man longer from sinking, thanotherwise he would be: of such consequence is the [****], even thoughaffected 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 isnecessary for the dignity of manners. 

In my next I will send you a general map of courts; a region yetunexplored by you, but which you are one day to inhabit. The ways aregenerally crooked and full of turnings, sometimes strewed with flowers, sometimes choked up with briars; rotten ground and deep pits frequentlylie concealed under a smooth and pleasing surface; all the paths areslippery, and every slip is dangerous. Sense and discretion mustaccompany you at your first setting out; but, notwithstanding those, tillexperience is your guide, you will every now and then step out of yourway, or stumble. 

Lady Chesterfield has just now received your German letter, for which shethanks you; she says the language is very correct; and I can plainly seethat the character is well formed, not to say better than your Englishcharacter. Continue to write German frequently, that it may become quitefamiliar 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 31stJuly, N. S. , I suppose you are now either at Venice or Verona, andperfectly re covered of your late illness: which I am daily more and moreconvinced 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, yetreflection and observation upon what you see and hear there may be of useto 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 ofeverything there, equally creates and dissolves friendship, produces andreconciles enmities: or, rather, allows of neither real friendships norenmities; for, as Dryden very justly observes, POLITICIANS NEITHER LOVENOR HATE. This is so true, that you may think you connect yourself withtwo friends to-day, and be obliged tomorrow to make your option betweenthem as enemies; observe, therefore, such a degree of reserve with yourfriends as not to put yourself in their power, if they should become yourenemies; and such a degree of moderation with your enemies, as not tomake 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 twoprevailing passions at courts, found dissimulation more effectual thanviolence; and dissimulation introduced that habit of politeness, whichdistinguishes the courtier from the country gentleman. In the former casethe strongest body would prevail; in the latter, the strongest mind. 

A man of parts and efficiency need not flatter everybody at court; but hemust take great care to offend nobody personally; it being in the powerof every man to hurt him, who cannot serve him. Homer supposes a chainlet down from Jupiter to the earth, to connect him with mortals. Thereis, at all courts, a chain which connects the prince or the minister withthe page of the back stairs, or the chamber-maid. The king's wife, ormistress, has an influence over him; a lover has an influence over her;the chambermaid, or the valet de chambre, has an influence over both, andso ad infinitum. You must, therefore, not break a link of that chain, bywhich you hope to climb up to the prince. 

You must renounce courts if you will not connive at knaves, and toleratefools. Their number makes them considerable. You should as little quarrelas 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, beingto repeat all that they see or hear, and a great deal that they neithersee nor hear, according as they are inclined to the persons concerned, oraccording to the wishes of those to whom they hope to make their court. Great caution is therefore necessary; and if, to great caution, you canjoin seeming frankness and openness, you will unite what Machiavelreckons very difficult but very necessary to be united; 'volto sciolto epensieri stretti'. 

Women are very apt to be mingled in court intrigues; but they deserveattention better than confidence; to hold by them is a very precarioustenure. 

I am agreeably interrupted in these reflections by a letter which I havethis moment received from Baron Firmian. It contains your panegyric, andwith the strongest protestations imaginable that he does you onlyjustice. I received this favorable account of you with pleasure, and Icommunicate it to you with as much. While you deserve praise, it isreasonable 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 oneparagraph of the Baron's letter: Ses moeurs dans un age si tendre, reglees selon toutes les loix d'une morale exacte et sensee; sonapplication (that is what I like) a tout ce qui s'appelle etude serieuse, et Belles Lettres, --"Notwithstanding his great youth, his manners areregulated by the most unexceptionable rules of sense and of morality. Hisapplication THAT IS WHAT I LIKE to every kind of serious study, as wellas to polite literature, without even the least appearance ofostentatious pedantry, render him worthy of your most tender affection;and I have the honor of assuring you, that everyone cannot but be pleasedwith the acquisition of his acquaintance or of his friendship. I haveprofited of it, both here and at Vienna; and shall esteem myself veryhappy to make use of the permission he has given me of continuing it byletter. " Reputation, like health, is preserved and increased by the samemeans by which it is acquired. Continue to desire and deserve praise, andyou will certainly find it. Knowledge, adorned by manners, willinfallibly procure it. Consider, that you have but a little way furtherto get to your journey's end; therefore, for God's sake, do not slackenyour pace; one year and a half more of sound application, Mr. Harteassures 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 asmuch of your attention to them as to your books. Everything depends uponthem; 'senza di noi ogni fatica e vana'. The various companies you now gointo will procure them you, if you will carefully observe, and formyourself upon those who have them. 

Adieu! God bless you! and may you ever deserve that affection with whichI 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, andwith which he is extremely pleased, as I am with your account ofCarniola. I am very glad that you attend to, and inform yourself of, thepolitical objects of the country you go through. Trade and manufacturesare very considerable, not to say the most important ones; for, thougharmies and navies are the shining marks of the strength of countries, they would be very ill paid, and consequently fight very ill, ifmanufactures and commerce did not support them. You have certainlyobserved in Germany the inefficiency of great powers, with great tractsof country and swarms of men; which are absolutely useless, if not paidby other powers who have the resources of manufactures and commerce. Thiswe have lately experienced to be the case of the two empresses of Germanyand 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, theobservation of natural curiosities; they are very welcome, provided theydo 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 seriousattention. I thought that the republic of Venice had by this time laidaside that silly and frivolous piece of policy, of endeavoring to concealtheir form of government; which anybody may know, pretty nearly, bytaking the pains to read four or five books, which explain all the greatparts of it; and as for some of the little wheels of that machine, theknowledge of them would be as little useful to others as dangerous tothemselves. Their best policy (I can tell them) is to keep quiet, and tooffend no one great power, by joining with another. Their escape, afterthe Ligue of Cambray, should prove a useful lesson to them. 

I am glad you frequent the assemblies at Venice. Have you seen Monsieurand Madame Capello, and how did they receive you? Let me know who are theladies whose houses you frequent the most. Have you seen the Comptessed'Orselska, Princess of Holstein? Is Comte Algarotti, who was the TENANTthere, at Venice?

You will, in many parts of Italy, meet with numbers of the Pretender'speople (English, Scotch, and Irish fugitives), especially at Rome;probably the Pretender himself. It is none of your business to declarewar to these people, as little as it is your interest, or, I hope, yourinclination, to connect yourself with them; and therefore I recommend toyou a perfect neutrality. Avoid them as much as you can with decency andgood manners; but when you cannot, avoid any political conversation ordebates with them; tell them that you do not concern yourself withpolitical 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 sinceheard either of his death, or of any revolution that has happened; andthat you take kings and kingdoms as you find them; but enter no furtherinto matters with them, which can be of no use, and might bring on heatsand quarrels. When you speak of the old Pretender, you will call him onlythe 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, hesometimes 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; andgive 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 underno difficulty; for he has, as Cardinal, an undoubted right to 'Eminenza'. Upon the whole, see any of those people as little as possible; when youdo see them, be civil to them, upon the footing of strangers; but neverbe drawn into any altercations with them about the imaginary right oftheir king, as they call him. 

It is to no sort of purpose to talk to those people of the natural rightsof mankind, and the particular constitution of this country. Blinded byprejudices, soured by misfortunes, and tempted by their necessities, theyare as incapable of reasoning rightly, as they have hitherto been ofacting wisely. The late Lord Pembroke never would know anything that hehad not a mind to know; and, in this case, I advise you to follow hisexample. Never know either the father or the two sons, any otherwise thanas foreigners; and so, not knowing their pretensions, you have nooccasion to dispute them. 

I can never help recommending to you the utmost attention and care, toacquire 'les Manieres, la Tournure, et les Graces, d'un galant homme, etd'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 orrise in the world. That you may do both (and both are in your power) ismost 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 wereso few faults in the orthography, that a little more observation of thebest French authors would make you a correct master of that necessarylanguage. 

I will not conceal from you, that I have lately had extraordinary goodaccounts of you, from an unexpected and judicious person, who promises methat, with a little more of the world, your manners and address willequal your knowledge. This is the more pleasing to me, as those were thetwo articles of which I was the most doubtful. These commendations willnot, I am persuaded, make you vain and coxcomical, but only encourage youto 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 anxietyfor you increases in proportion to the good accounts which I receive ofyou from all hands. I promise myself so much from you, that I dread theleast disappointment. You are now so near the port, which I have so longwished and labored to bring you safe into, that my concern would bedoubled, 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 surelyyou 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, oflate, you have carried on so well, and which is now so near beingfinished. My wishes and my plan were to make you shine and distinguishyourself equally in the learned and the polite world. Few have been ableto do it. Deep learning is generally tainted with pedantry, or at leastunadorned by manners: as, on the other hand, polite manners and the turnof the world are too often unsupported by knowledge, and consequently endcontemptibly, in the frivolous dissipation of drawing-rooms and ruelles. You are now got over the dry and difficult parts of learning; whatremains requires much more time than trouble. You have lost time by yourillness; you must regain it now or never. I therefore most earnestlydesire, for your own sake, that for these next six months, at least sixhours every morning, uninterruptedly, may be inviolably sacred to yourstudies 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 withhim to give you that time; I own it is a good deal: but when both you andhe consider that the work will be so much better, and so much soonerdone, by such an assiduous and continued application, you will, neitherof you, think it too much, and each will find his account in it. So muchfor the mornings, which from your own good sense, and Mr. Harte'stenderness and care of you, will, I am sure, be thus well employed. It isnot only reasonable, but useful too, that your evenings should be devotedto amusements and pleasures: and therefore I not only allow, butrecommend, that they should be employed at assemblies, balls, SPECTACLES, and in the best companies; with this restriction only, that theconsequences of the evening's diversions may not break in upon themorning's studies, by breakfastings, visits, and idle parties into thecountry. At your age, you need not be ashamed, when any of these morningparties are proposed, to say that you must beg to be excused, for you areobliged to devote your mornings to Mr. Harte; that I will have it so; andthat you dare not do otherwise. Lay it all upon me; though I am persuadedit will be as much your own inclination as it is mine. But thosefrivolous, idle people, whose time hangs upon their own hands, and whodesire to make others lose theirs too, are not to be reasoned with: andindeed it would be doing them too much honor. The shortest civil answersare the best; I CANNOT, I DARE NOT, instead of I WILL NOT; for if youwere to enter with them into the necessity of study end the usefulness ofknowledge, 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 willsuppose 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 numberof idle, sauntering, illiterate English, as there commonly is there, living entirely with one another, supping, drinking, and sitting up lateat each other's lodgings; commonly in riots and scrapes when drunk, andnever in good company when sober. I will take one of these prettyfellows, and give you the dialogue between him and yourself; such as, Idare say, it will be on his side; and such as, I hope, it will be onyours:--

Englishman. Will you come and breakfast with me tomorrow? there will befour or five of our countrymen; we have provided chaises, and we willdrive somewhere out of town after breakfast. 

Stanhope. I am very sorry I cannot; but I am obliged to be at home allmorning. 

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 Ineither go out, nor see anybody at home before twelve. 

Englishman. And what the devil do you do with yourself till twelveo'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 athousand 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 livelong; never mind threats. 

Stanhope. No, I can't say that he has ever threatened me in his life; butI 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. Hehas never been angry with me yet, that I remember, in his life; but if Iwere to provoke him, I am sure he would never forgive me; he would becoolly immovable, and I might beg and pray, and write my heart out to nopurpose. 

Englishman. Why, then, he is an old dog, that's all I can say; and prayare 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, andLogic, and all that. Egad I have a dry-nurse too, but I never looked intoa book with him in my life; I have not so much as seen the face of himthis week, and don't care a louse if I never see it again. 

Stanhope. My dry-nurse never desires anything of me that is notreasonable, and for my own good; and therefore I like to be with him. 

Englishman. Very sententious and edifying, upon my word! at this rate youwill 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 shallbe ten with you; and I have got some excellent good wine; and we'll bevery merry. 

Stanhope. I am very much obliged to you, but I am engaged for all theevening, to-morrow; first at Cardinal Albani's; and then to sup at theVenetian Ambassadress's. 

Englishman. How the devil can you like being always with theseforeigners? I never go among them with all their formalities andceremonies. 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 theircharacters, by conversing with them; and that is what we are sent abroadfor, is it not?

Englishman. I hate your modest women's company; your women of fashion asthey 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 intheir 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 keepcompany with my surgeon half the year, than with your women of fashionthe 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. Allmorning with thy dry-nurse; all the evening in formal fine company; andall day long afraid of Old Daddy in England. Thou art a queer fellow, andI 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 ascertainly will be; and so good night, too. 

You will observe, that I have not put into your mouth those goodarguments which upon such an occasion would, I am sure, occur to you; aspiety and affection toward me; regard and friendship for Mr. Harte;respect for your own moral character, and for all the relative duties ofman, son, pupil, and citizen. Such solid arguments would be thrown awayupon such shallow puppies. Leave them to their ignorance and to theirdirty, disgraceful vices. They will severely feel the effects of them, when it will be too late. Without the comfortable refuge of learning, andwith all the sickness and pains of a ruined stomach, and a rottencarcass, if they happen to arrive at old age, it is an uneasy andignominious one. The ridicule which such fellows endeavor to throw uponthose who are not like them, is, in the opinion of all men of sense, themost authentic panegyric. Go on, then, my dear child, in the way you arein, only for a year and a half more: that is all I ask of you. Afterthat, I promise that you shall be your own master, and that I willpretend to no other title than that of your best and truest friend. Youshall receive advice, but no orders, from me; and in truth you will wantno other advice but such as youth and inexperience must necessarilyrequire. You shall certainly want nothing that is requisite, not only foryour conveniency, but also for your pleasures; which I always desireshall be gratified. You will suppose that I mean the pleasures 'd'unhonnete homme'. 

While you are learning Italian, which I hope you do with diligence, praytake care to continue your German, which you may have frequentopportunities of speaking. I would also have you keep up your knowledgeof the 'Jus Publicum Imperii', by looking over, now and then, thoseINESTIMABLE MANUSCRIPTS which Sir Charles Williams, who arrived here lastweek, assures me you have made upon that subject. It will be of verygreat use to you, when you come to be concerned in foreign affairs; asyou shall be (if you qualify yourself for them) younger than ever anyother was: I mean before you are twenty. Sir Charles tells me, that hewill answer for your learning; and that, he believes, you will acquirethat address, and those graces, which are so necessary to give it itsfull lustre and value. But he confesses, that he doubts more of thelatter than of the former. The justice which he does Mr. Harte, in hispanegyrics of him, makes me hope that there is likewise a great deal oftruth in his encomiums of you. Are you pleased with, and proud of thereputation which you have already acquired? Surely you are, for I am sureI 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 youwill. It is only going on for a year and a half longer, as you have goneon for the two years last past, and devoting half the day only toapplication; and you will be sure to make the earliest figure and fortunein 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 suspectthat you had given Sir Charles Williams some, by the manner in which hespeaks of you, not only to me, but to everybody else. I will not repeatto you what he says of the extent and correctness of your knowledge, asit might either make you vain, or persuade you that you had alreadyenough of what nobody can have too much. You will easily imagine how manyquestions I asked, and how narrowly I sifted him upon your subject; heanswered me, and I dare say with truth, just as I could have wished; tillsatisfied entirely with his accounts of your character and learning, Iinquired into other matters, intrinsically indeed of less consequence, but still of great consequence to every man, and of more to you than toalmost any man: I mean, your address, manners, and air. To thesequestions, the same truth which he had observed before, obliged him togive me much less satisfactory answers. And as he thought himself, infriendship both to you and me, obliged to tell me the disagreeable aswell as the agreeable truths, upon the same principle I think myselfobliged to repeat them to you. 

He told me then, that in company you were frequently most PROVOKINGLYinattentive, absent; and distrait; that you came into a room, andpresented yourself, very awkwardly; that at table you constantly threwdown knives, forks, napkins, bread, etc. , and that you neglected yourperson and dress, to a degree unpardonable at any age, and much more soat yours. 

These things, howsoever immaterial they may seem to people who do notknow the world, and the nature of mankind, give me, who know them to beexceedingly material, very great concern. I have long distrusted you, andtherefore frequently admonished you, upon these articles; and I tell youplainly, that I shall not be easy till I hear a very different account ofthem. I know no one thing more offensive to a company than thatinattention and DISTRACTION. It is showing them the utmost contempt; andpeople 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 betterof 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, Iwould rather be in company with a dead man, than with an absent one; forif 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 thathe does not think me worth his attention. Besides, can an absent man makeany observations upon the characters customs, and manners of thecompany? No. He may be in the best companies all his lifetime (if theywill admit him, which, if I were they, I would not) and never be one jotthe wiser. I never will converse with an absent man; one may as well talkto a deaf one. It is, in truth, a practical blunder, to address ourselvesto 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 businessor conversation, who cannot and does not direct and command his attentionto the present object, be that what it will. You know, by experience, that I grudge no expense in your education, but I will positively notkeep you a Flapper. You may read, in Dr. Swift, the description of theseflappers, and the use they were of to your friends the Laputans; whoseminds (Gulliver says) are so taken up with intense speculations, thatthey neither can speak nor attend to the discourses of others, withoutbeing roused by some external traction upon the organs of speech andhearing; for which reason, those people who are able to afford it, alwayskeep a flapper in their family, as one of their domestics; nor ever walkabout, or make visits without him. This flapper is likewise employeddiligently to attend his master in his walks; and, upon occasion, to givea soft flap upon his eyes, because he is always so wrapped up incogitation, that he is in manifest danger of falling down everyprecipice, and bouncing his head against every post, and, in the streets, of jostling others, or being jostled into the kennel himself. IfCHRISTIAN will undertake this province into the bargain, with all myheart; but I will not allow him any increase of wages upon that score. Inshort, I give you fair warning, that, when we meet, if you are absent inmind, I will soon be absent in body; for it will be impossible for me tostay 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, withoutbeing able to cut it off, and your sleeve all the time in another dish, Imust 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 thefirst time, with two left legs, presenting yourself with all the gracesand dignity of a tailor, and your clothes hanging upon you, like those inMonmouth street, upon tenter-hooks! whereas, I expect, nay, require, tosee you present yourself with the easy and genteel air of a man offashion, who has kept good company. I expect you not only well dressedbut very well dressed; I expect a gracefulness in all your motions, andsomething particularly engaging in your address, All this I expect, andall this it is in your power, by care and attention, to make me find; butto tell you the plain truth, if I do not find it, we shall not conversevery much together; for I cannot stand inattention and awkwardness; itwould endanger my health. You have often seen, and I have as often madeyou observe L----'s distinguished inattention and awkwardness. Wrappedup, like a Laputan, in intense thought, and possibly sometimes in nothought at all (which, I believe, is very often the case with absentpeople), he does not know his most intimate acquaintance by sight, oranswers them as if he were at cross purposes. He leaves his hat in oneroom, his sword in another, and would leave his shoes in a third, if hisbuckles, though awry, did not save them: his legs and arms, by hisawkward management of them, seem to have undergone the questionextraordinaire; and his head, always hanging upon one or other of hisshoulders, seems to have received the first stroke upon a block. Isincerely value and esteem him for his parts, learning, and virtue; but, for the soul of me, I cannot love him in company. This will beuniversally the case, in common life, of every inattentive, awkward man, let his real merit and knowledge be ever so great. When I was of yourage, I desired to shine, as far as I was able, in every part of life; andwas as attentive to my manners, my dress, and my air, in company ofevenings, as to my books and my tutor in the mornings. A young fellowshould be ambitious to shine in everything--and, of the two, alwaysrather overdo than underdo. These things are by no means trifles: theyare of infinite consequence to those who are to be thrown into the greatworld, and who would make a figure or a fortune in it. It is notsufficient to deserve well; one must please well too. Awkward, disagreeable merit will never carry anybody far. Wherever you find a gooddancing-master, pray let him put you upon your haunches; not so much forthe sake of dancing, as for coming into a room, and presenting yourselfgenteelly and gracefully. Women, whom you ought to endeavor to please, cannot forgive vulgar and awkward air and gestures; 'il leur faut dubrillant'. The generality of men are pretty like them, and are equallytaken by the same exterior graces. 

I am very glad that you have received the diamond buckles safe; all Idesire in return for them is, that they may be buckled even upon yourfeet, and that your stockings may not hide them. I should be sorry thatyou were an egregious fop; but, I protest, that of the two, I wouldrather 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: Inthe evenings, I recommend to you the company of women of fashion, whohave a right to attention and will be paid it. Their company will smoothyour manners, and give you a habit of attention and respect, of which youwill find the advantage among men. 

My plan for you, from the beginning, has been to make you shine equallyin the learned and in the polite world; the former part is almostcompleted 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 Iflatter myself that you will do it, or else the former part will availyou very little; especially in your department, where the exterioraddress and graces do half the business; they must be the harbingers ofyour merit, or your merit will be very coldly received; all can, and dojudge of the former, few of the latter. 

Mr. Harte tells me that you have grown very much since your illness; ifyou get up to five feet ten, or even nine inches, your figure willprobably be a good one; and if well dressed and genteel, will probablyplease; which is a much greater advantage to a man than people commonlythink. Lord Bacon calls it a letter of recommendation. 

I would wish you to be the omnis homo, 'l'homme universel'. You arenearer it, if you please, than ever anybody was at your age; and if youwill but, for the course of this next year only, exert your wholeattention 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 theman 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 Iacknowledged 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 atVerona, 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 anyother place on this side Rome, till you go there for the Jubilee. Nay, ifhe likes it better, I am very willing that you should go directly fromVerona to Rome; for you cannot have too much of Rome, whether uponaccount of the language, the curiosities, or the company. My only reasonfor mentioning Naples, is for the sake of the climate, upon account ofyour health; but if Mr. Harte thinks that your health is now so wellrestored as to be above climate, he may steer your course wherever hethinks proper: and, for aught I know, your going directly to Rome, andconsequently staying there so much the longer, may be as well as anythingelse. I think you and I cannot put our affairs in better hands than inMr. Harte's; and I will stake his infallibility against the Pope's, withsome odds on his side. Apropos of the Pope: remember to be presented tohim before you leave Rome, and go through the necessary ceremonies forit, whether of kissing his slipper or his b---h; for I would neverdeprive myself of anything that I wanted to do or see, by refusing tocomply with an established custom. When I was in Catholic countries, Inever declined kneeling in their churches at the elevation, norelsewhere, when the Host went by. It is a complaisance due to the customof the place, and by no means, as some silly people have imagined, animplied approbation of their doctrine. Bodily attitudes and situationsare things so very indifferent in themselves, that I would quarrel withnobody about them. It may, indeed, be improper for Mr. Harte to pay thattribute of complaisance, upon account of his character. 

This letter is a very long, and possibly a very tedious one; but myanxiety for your perfection is so great, and particularly at thiscritical and decisive period of your life, that I am only afraid ofomitting, but never of repeating, or dwelling too long upon anything thatI think may be of the least use to you. Have the same anxiety foryourself, that I have for you, and all will do well. Adieu! my dearchild. 

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 peoplecontract it at school, or among servants, with whom they are too oftenused to converse; but after they frequent good company, they must wantattention 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 themaside. The various kinds of vulgarisms are infinite; I cannot pretend topoint them out to you; but I will give some samples, by which you mayguess 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 meantat him: if the company happens to laugh, he is persuaded they laugh athim; he grows angry and testy, says something very impertinent, and drawshimself into a scrape, by showing what he calls a proper spirit, andasserting himself. A man of fashion does not suppose himself to be eitherthe sole or principal object of the thoughts, looks, or words of thecompany; and never suspects that he is either slighted or laughed at, unless he is conscious that he deserves it. And if (which very seldomhappens) the company is absurd or ill-bred enough to do either, he doesnot care twopence, unless the insult be so gross and plain as to requiresatisfaction of another kind. As he is above trifles, he is nevervehement and eager about them; and, wherever they are concerned, ratheracquiesces than wrangles. A vulgar man's conversation always savorsstrongly of the lowness of his education and company. It turns chieflyupon his domestic affairs, his servants, the excellent order he keeps inhis own family, and the little anecdotes of the neighborhood; all whichhe relates with emphasis, as interesting matters. He is a man gossip. 

Vulgarism in language is the next and distinguishing characteristic ofbad company and a bad education. A man of fashion avoids nothing withmore care than that. Proverbial expressions and trite sayings are theflowers of the rhetoric of a vulgar man. Would he say that men differ intheir tastes; he both supports and adorns that opinion by the good oldsaying, as he respectfully calls it, that WHAT IS ONE MAN'S MEAT, ISANOTHER 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 alwayssome favorite word for the time being; which, for the sake of usingoften, he commonly abuses. Such as VASTLY angry, VASTLY kind, VASTLYhandsome, and VASTLY ugly. Even his pronunciation of proper words carriesthe mark of the beast along with it. He calls the earth YEARTH; he isOBLEIGED, not OBLIGED to you. He goes TO WARDS, and not TOWARDS, such aplace. He sometimes affects hard words, by way of ornament, which healways mangles like a learned woman. A man of fashion never has recourseto proverbs and vulgar aphorisms; uses neither favorite words nor hardwords; but takes great care to speak very correctly and grammatically, and to pronounce properly; that is, according to the usage of the bestcompanies. 

An awkward address, ungraceful attitudes and actions, and a certainleft-handedness (if I may use that word), loudly proclaim low educationand low company; for it is impossible to suppose that a man can havefrequented good company, without having catched something, at least, oftheir air and motions. A new raised man is distinguished in a regiment byhis awkwardness; but he must be impenetrably dull, if, in a month ortwo's time, he cannot perform at least the common manual exercise, andlook like a soldier. The very accoutrements of a man of fashion aregrievous encumbrances to a vulgar man. He is at a loss what to do withhis hat, when it is not upon his head; his cane (if unfortunately hewears 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 swordis formidable only to his own legs, which would possibly carry him fastenough out of the way of any sword but his own. His clothes fit him soill, and constrain him so much, that he seems rather, their prisoner thantheir proprietor. He presents himself in company like a criminal in acourt of justice; his very air condemns him; and people of fashion willno more connect themselves with the one, than people of character willwith the other. This repulse drives and sinks him into low company; agulf from whence no man, after a certain age, ever emerged. 

'Les manieres nobles et aisees, la tournure d'un homme de condition, leton de la bonne compagnie, les graces, le jeune sais quoi, qui plait', are as necessary to adorn and introduce your intrinsic merit andknowledge, as the polish is to the diamond; which, without that polish, would never be worn, whatever it might weigh. Do not imagine that theseaccomplishments are only useful with women; they are much more so withmen. In a public assembly, what an advantage has a graceful speaker, withgenteel motions, a handsome figure, and a liberal air, over one who shallspeak full as much good sense, but destitute of these ornaments? Inbusiness, how prevalent are the graces, how detrimental is the want ofthem? By the help of these I have known some men refuse favors lessoffensively than others granted them. The utility of them in courts andnegotiations is inconceivable. You gain the hearts, and consequently thesecrets, of nine in ten, that you have to do with, in spite even of theirprudence; which will, nine times in ten, be the dupe of their hearts andof 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 andreflection. View it therefore with care, compare its former with itspresent state, and examine into the causes of its rise and its decay. Consider it classically and politically, and do not run through it, astoo many of your young countrymen do, musically, and (to use a ridiculousword) KNICK-KNACKICALLY. No piping nor fiddling, I beseech you; no dayslost in poring upon almost imperceptible 'intaglios and cameos': and donot become a virtuoso of small wares. Form a taste of painting, sculpture, and architecture, if you please, by a careful examination ofthe 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 frivolousvirtuoso begins. 

Your friend Mendes, the good Samaritan, dined with me yesterday. He hasmore good-nature and generosity than parts. However, I will show him allthe civilities that his kindness to you so justly deserves. He tells methat you are taller than I am, which I am very glad of: I desire that youmay excel me in everything else too; and, far from repining, I shallrejoice at your superiority. He commends your friend Mr. Stevensextremely; of whom too I have heard so good a character from otherpeople, that I am very glad of your connection with him. It may prove ofuse 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 figureat home, I would advise you to cultivate them, and get their favorabletestimony of you here, especially those who are to return to Englandbefore you. Sir Charles Williams has puffed you (as the mob call it) hereextremely. If three or four more people of parts do the same, before youcome back, your first appearance in London will be to great advantage. Many people do, and indeed ought, to take things upon trust; many moredo, 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, andreturning to Venice; so that I am entirely ignorant of them. Indeed theirregularity and negligence of the post provoke me, as they break thethread of the accounts I want to receive from you, and of theinstructions and orders which I send you, almost every post. Of theselast twenty posts. 

I am sure that I have wrote eighteen, either to you or to Mr. Harte, andit does not appear by your letter, that all or even any of my lettershave been received. I desire for the future, that both you and Mr. Hartewill constantly, in your letters, mention the dates of mine. Had it notbeen for their miscarriage, you would not have, been in the uncertaintyyou seem to be in at present, with regard to your future motions. Had youreceived my letters, you would have been by this time at Naples: but wemust now take things where they are. 

Upon the receipt, then, of this letter, you will as soon as convenientlyyou can, set out for Rome; where you will not arrive too long before thejubilee, considering the difficulties of getting lodgings, and otheraccommodations there at this time. I leave the choice of the route toyou; but I do by no means intend that you should leave Rome after thejubilee, as you seem to hint in your letter: on the contrary, I will haveRome your headquarters for six months at least; till you shall have, in amanner, acquired the 'Jus Civitatis' there. More things are to be seenand learned there, than in any other town in Europe; there are the bestmasters to instruct, and the best companies to polish you. In the springyou may make (if you please) frequent excursions to Naples; but Rome muststill be your headquarters, till the heats of June drive you from thenceto some other place in Italy, which we shall think of by that time. As tothe expense which you mention, I do not regard it in the least; from yourinfancy to this day, I never grudged any expense in your education, andstill less do it now, that it is become more important and decisive: Iattend to the objects of your expenses, but not to the sums. I willcertainly not pay one shilling for your losing your nose, your money, oryour reason; that is, I will not contribute to women, gaming, anddrinking. But I will most cheerfully supply, not only every necessary, but every decent expense you can make. I do not care what the bestmasters cost. I would have you as well dressed, lodged, and attended, asany reasonable man of fashion is in his travels. I would have you havethat pocket-money that should enable you to make the proper expense 'd'unhonnete homme'. In short, I bar no expense, that has neither vice norfolly 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 ortwo; but you cannot conveniently reside there as an academician, forreasons which I have formerly communicated to Mr. Harte, and which Mr. Villettes, since his return here, has shown me in a still stronger lightthan 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 youshould be thoroughly acquainted. I know that there is a great deal ofgaming there; but, at the same time, there are in every place some peoplewhose fortunes are either too small, or whose understandings are too goodto allow them to play for anything above trifles; and with those peopleyou will associate yourself, if you have not (as I am assured you havenot, in the least) the spirit of gaming in you. Moreover, at suspectedplaces, such as Florence, Turin, and Paris, I shall be more attentive toyour draughts, and such as exceed a proper and handsome expense will notbe answered; for I can easily know whether you game or not without beingtold. 

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, itis equal to me; but you will observe to come back a different way fromthat you went. 

Since your health is so well restored, I am not sorry that you havereturned to Venice, for I love capitals. Everything is best at capitals;the best masters, the best companions, and the best manners. Many otherplaces are worth seeing, but capitals only are worth residing at. I amvery glad that Madame Capello received you so well. Monsieur I was surewould: pray assure them both of my respects, and of my sensibility oftheir kindness to you. Their house will be a very good one for you atRome; 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 avery favorable account of you to my friend the Abbe Grossa Testa, in aletter which he showed me, and in which there are so many civil things tomyself, that I would wish to tell her how much I think myself obliged toher. I approve very much of the allotment of your time at Venice; pray goon so for a twelvemonth at least, wherever you are. You will find yourown account in it. 

I like your last letter, which gives me an account of yourself, and yourown transactions; for though I do not recommend the EGOTISM to you, withregard to anybody else, I desire that you will use it with me, and withme 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 knowa great deal. 

I am glad you have received, and that you like the diamond buckles. I amvery willing that you should make, but very unwilling that you should CUTa figure with them at the jubilee; the CUTTING A FIGURE being the verylowest 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 foundby my former letter that I had proscribed out of the diction of agentleman, unless in their proper signification of sizes and BULK. Notonly in language, but in everything else, take great care that the firstimpressions you give of yourself may be not only favorable, but pleasing, engaging, nay, seducing. They are often decisive; I confess they are agood deal so with me: and I cannot wish for further acquaintance with aman whose first 'abord' and address displease me. 

So many of my letters have miscarried, and I know so little which, that Iam forced to repeat the same thing over and over again eventually. Thisis one. I have wrote twice to Mr. Harte, to have your picture drawn inminiature, while you were at Venice; and send it me in a letter: it isall one to me whether in enamel or in watercolors, provided it is butvery like you. I would have you drawn exactly as you are, and in nowhimsical 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 alreadydone, I desire that you will have it done forthwith before you leaveVenice; and inclose it in a letter to me, which letter, for greatersecurity, I would have you desire Sir James Gray to inclose in his packetto the office; as I, for the same, reason, send this under his cover. Ifthe 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 amsolicitous about your figure; convinced, by a thousand instances, that agood one is a real advantage. 'Mens sana in corpore sano', is the firstand greatest blessing. I would add 'et pulchro', to complete it. May youhave that and every other! Adieu. 

Have you received my letters of recommendation to Cardinal Albani and theDuke 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, bymy last letter to Mr. Harte, I advised you to make along the coast of theAdriatic, through Rimini, Loretto, Ancona, etc. , places that are allworth seeing; but not worth staying at. And such I reckon all placeswhere the eyes only are employed. Remains of antiquity, public buildings, paintings, sculptures, etc. , ought to be seen, and that with a properdegree 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 beseen; and they require and deserve much more attention. The characters, the heads, and the hearts of men, are the useful science of which Iwould have you perfect master. That science is best taught and bestlearned in capitals, where every human passion has its object, and exertsall its force or all its art in the pursuit. I believe there is no placein the world, where every passion is busier, appears in more shapes, andis conducted with more art, than at Rome. Therefore, when you are there, do not imagine that the Capitol, the Vatican, and the Pantheon, are theprincipal objects of your curiosity. But for one minute that you bestowupon those, employ ten days in informing yourself of the nature of thatgovernment, the rise and decay of the papal power, the politics of thatcourt, the 'Brigues' of the cardinals, the tricks of the Conclaves; and, in general, everything that relates to the interior of that extraordinarygovernment, founded originally upon the ignorance and superstition ofmankind, extended by the weakness of some princes, and the ambition ofothers; declining of late in proportion as knowledge has increased; andowing its present precarious security, not to the religion, theaffection, or the fear of the temporal powers, but to the jealousy ofeach other. The Pope's excommunications are no longer dreaded; hisindulgences little solicited, and sell very cheap; and his territoriesformidable to no power, are coveted by many, and will, most undoubtedly, within a century, be scantled out among the great powers, who have now afooting in Italy, whenever they can agree upon the division of the bear'sskin. Pray inform yourself thoroughly of the history of the popes and thepopedom; which, for many centuries, is interwoven with the history of allEurope. Read the best authors who treat of these matters, and especiallyFra Paolo, 'De Beneficiis', a short, but very material book. You willfind 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 ofthem, but particularly with the Jesuits; whose society I look upon to bethe most able and best governed society in the world. Get acquainted, ifyou can, with their General, who always resides at Rome; and who, thoughhe has no seeming power out of his own society, has (it may be) more realinfluence over the whole world, than any temporal prince in it. They havealmost engrossed the education of youth; they are, in general, confessorsto most of the princes of Europe; and they are the principal missionariesout of it; which three articles give them a most extensive influence andsolid advantages; witness their settlement in Paraguay. The Catholics ingeneral declaim against that society; and yet are all governed byindividuals of it. They have, by turns, been banished, and with infamy, almost every country in Europe; and have always found means to berestored, even with triumph. In short, I know no government in the worldthat is carried on upon such deep principles of policy, I will not addmorality. 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 cancontrive, the folly of others receive, and both together establish, inspite of the first natural principles of reason, justice, and equity. 

These are the proper and useful objects of the attention of a man ofsense, when he travels; and these are the objects for which I have sentyou 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 yourefer in your last; in which he gave me the reasons for your leavingVerona so soon; nor have I ever received that letter in which your casewas stated by your physicians. Letters to and from me have worse luckthan other people's; for you have written to me, and I to you, for theselast three months, by way of Germany, with as little success as before. 

I am edified with your morning applications, and your evening gallantriesat Venice, of which Mr. Harte gives me an account. Pray go on with boththere, and afterward at Rome; where, provided you arrive in the beginningof December, you may stay at Venice as much longer as you please. 

Make my compliments to Sir James Gray and Mr. Smith, with myacknowledgments for the great civilities they show you. 

I wrote to Mr. Harte by the last post, October the 6th, O. S. , and willwrite 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 19thSeptember, N. S. , from Verona. Your reasons for leaving that place werevery good ones; and as you stayed there long enough to see what was to beseen, Venice (as a capital) is, in my opinion, a much better place foryour residence. Capitals are always the seats of arts and sciences, andthe best companies. I have stuck to them all my lifetime, and I adviseyou to do so too. 

You will have received in my three or four last letters my directions foryour further motions to another capital, where I propose that your stayshall be pretty considerable. The expense, I am well aware, will be sotoo; but that, as I told you before, will have no weight when yourimprovement and advantage are in the other scale. I do not care a groatwhat 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 kindof objects worthy of your inquiries and knowledge. The produce, thetaxes, the trade, the manufactures, the strength, the weakness, thegovernment of the several countries which a man of sense travels through, are the material points to which he attends; and leaves the steeples, themarket-places, and the signs, to the laborious and curious researches ofDutch and German travelers. 

Mr. Harte tells me, that he intends to give you, by means of SignorVicentini, a general notion of civil and military architecture; withwhich 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 agood taste of the former; and you may very soon learn as much as you needknow of either. If you read about one-third of Palladio's book ofarchitecture with some skillful person, and then, with that person, examine the best buildings by those rules, you will know the differentproportions of the different orders; the several diameters of theircolumns; their intercolumniations, their several uses, etc. TheCorinthian Order is chiefly used in magnificent buildings, where ornamentand decoration are the principal objects; the Doric is calculated forstrength, and the Ionic partakes of the Doric strength, and of theCorinthian ornaments. The Composite and the Tuscan orders are moremodern, and were unknown to the Greeks; the one is too light, the othertoo clumsy. You may soon be acquainted with the considerable parts ofcivil architecture; and for the minute and mechanical parts of it, leavethem to masons, bricklayers, and Lord Burlington, who has, to a certainextent, lessened himself by knowing them too well. Observe the samemethod as to military architecture; understand the terms, know thegeneral rules, and then see them in execution with some skillful person. Go with some engineer or old officer, and view with care the realfortifications of some strong place; and you will get a clearer idea ofbastions, half-moons, horn-works, ravelins, glacis, etc. , than all themasters in the world could give you upon paper. And thus much I would, byall means, have you know of both civil and military architecture. 

I would also have you acquire a liberal taste of the two liberal arts ofpainting and sculpture; but without descending into those minutia, whichour modern virtuosi most affectedly dwell upon. Observe the great partsattentively; see if nature be truly represented; if the passions arestrongly expressed; if the characters are preserved; and leave thetrifling parts, with their little jargon, to affected puppies. I wouldadvise you also, to read the history of the painters and sculptors, and Iknow none better than Felibien's. There are many in Italian; you willinform yourself which are the best. It is a part of history veryentertaining, curious enough, and not quite useless. All these sort ofthings I would have you know, to a certain degree; but remember, thatthey 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, ofwhich I would not now have one moment wasted, I will accept of yourcomposition, and content myself with a moderate German letter once afortnight, to Lady Chesterfield or Mr. Gravenkop. My meaning was onlythat you should not forget what you had already learned of the Germanlanguage and character; but, on the contrary, that by frequent use itshould grow more easy and familiar. Provided you take care of that, I donot care by what means: but I do desire that you will every day of yourlife speak German to somebody or other (for you will meet with Germansenough), 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 andaccounts in that language and character? by which, too, you would havethis advantage into the bargain, that, if mislaid, few but yourself couldread them. 

I am extremely glad to hear that you like the assemblies at Venice wellenough to sacrifice some suppers to them; for I hear that you do notdislike your suppers neither. It is therefore plain, that there issomebody or something at those assemblies, which you like better thanyour meat. And as I know that there is none but good company at thoseassemblies, I am very glad to find that you like good company so well. Ialready imagine that you are a little, smoothed by it; and that you haveeither reasoned yourself, or that they have laughed you out of yourabsences and DISTRACTIONS; for I cannot suppose that you go there toinsult them. I likewise imagine, that you wish to be welcome where youwish to go; and consequently, that you both present and behave yourselfthere 'en galant homme, et pas in bourgeois'. 

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

P. S. By an uncommon diligence of the post, I have this moment receivedyours 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 letterof 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 withyou. I will advise you seriously, as a friend of some experience, and Iwill converse with you cheerfully as a companion; the authority of aparent shall forever be laid aside; for, wherever it is exerted, it isuseless; since, if you have neither sense nor sentiments enough to followmy advice as a friend, your unwilling obedience to my orders as a fatherwill be a very awkward and unavailing one both to yourself and me. Tacitus, speaking of an army that awkwardly and unwillingly obeyed itsgenerals only from the fear of punishment, says, they obeyed indeed, 'Sedut qua mallent jussa Imperatorum interpretari, quam exequi'. For my ownpart, I disclaim such obedience. 

You think, I find, that you do not understand Italian; but I can tellyou, that, like the 'Bourgeois Gentilhomme', who spoke prose withoutknowing it, you understand a great deal, though you do not know that youdo; for whoever understands French and Latin so well as you do, understands at least half the Italian language, and has very littleoccasion for a dictionary. And for the idioms, the phrases, and thedelicacies of it, conversation and a little attention will teach themyou, 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 acommon question, or give a common answer. If you can only say 'buongiorno', 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 bevery soon master of that easy language. You are quite right in notneglecting your German for it, and in thinking that it will be of moreuse to you; it certainly will, in the course of your business; butItalian has its use too, and is an ornament into the bargain; there beingmany very polite and good authors in that language. The reason you assignfor having hitherto met with none of my swarms of Germans in Italy, is avery solid one; and I can easily conceive, that the expense necessary fora 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 butGerman. 

I have had the most obliging letter in the world from Monsieur Capello, in which he speaks very advantageously of you, and promises you hisprotection at Rome. I have wrote him an answer by which I hope I havedomesticated you at his hotel there; which I advise you to frequent asmuch 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 ofbusiness, 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, whichshe got here, by lessening her beauty, lessened her humors too; but, as Ipresume it did not change her sex, I trust to that for her having such ashare of them left, as may contribute to smooth and polish you. She, doubtless, still thinks that she has beauty enough remaining to entitleher to the attentions always paid to beauty; and she has certainly rankenough to require respect. Those are the sort of women who polish a youngman the most, and who give him that habit of complaisance, and thatflexibility and versatility of manners which prove of great use to himwith men, and in the course of business. 

You must always expect to hear, more or less, from me, upon thatimportant subject of manners, graces, address, and that undefinable 'jene sais quoi' that ever pleases. I have reason to believe that you wantnothing else; but I have reason to fear too, that you want those: andthat want will keep you poor in the midst of all the plenty of knowledgewhich 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 principleand favorite object of mine, to make you as perfect as the imperfectionsof human nature will allow: in this view, I have grudged no pains norexpense in your education; convinced that education, more than nature, isthe cause of that great difference which you see in the characters ofmen. While you were a child, I endeavored to form your heart habituallyto virtue and honor, before your understanding was capable of showing youtheir beauty and utility. Those principles, which you then got, like yourgrammar rules, only by rote, are now, I am persuaded, fixed and confirmedby reason. And indeed they are so plain and clear, that they require buta very moderate degree of understanding, either to comprehend or practicethem. Lord Shaftesbury says, very prettily, that he would be virtuous forhis own sake, though nobody were to know it; as he would be clean for hisown sake, though nobody were to see him. I have therefore, since you havehad 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 ofwarning you gravely not to fall into the dirt or the fire, as intodishonor or vice. This view of mine, I consider as fully attained. Mynext object was sound and useful learning. My own care first, Mr. Harte'safterward, and OF LATE (I will own it to your praise) your ownapplication, have more than answered my expectations in that particular;and, I have reason to believe, will answer even my wishes. All thatremains for me then to wish, to recommend, to inculcate, to order, and toinsist upon, is good-breeding; without which, all your otherqualifications will be lame, unadorned, and to a certain degreeunavailing. And here I fear, and have too much reason to believe, thatyou are greatly deficient. The remainder of this letter, therefore, shallbe (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-DENIALFOR THE SAKE OF OTHERS, AND WITH A VIEW TO OBTAIN THE SAME INDULGENCEFROM THEM. Taking this for granted (as I think it cannot be disputed), itis astonishing to me that anybody who has good sense and good nature (andI believe you have both), can essentially fail in good-breeding. As tothe modes of it, indeed, they vary according to persons, and places, andcircumstances; and are only to be acquired by observation and experience:but the substance of it is everywhere and eternally the same. Goodmanners are, to particular societies, what good morals are to society ingeneral; their cement and their security. And, as laws are enacted toenforce 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 tome to be less difference, both between the crimes and between thepunishments than at first one would imagine. The immoral man, who invadesanother 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 ofprivate life, is by common consent as justly banished society. Mutualcomplaisances, attentions, and sacrifices of little conveniences, are asnatural an implied compact between civilized people, as protection andobedience 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 doinga good action, that of doing a civil one is the most pleasing; and theepithet which I should covet the most, next to that of Aristides, wouldbe that of well-bred. Thus much for good-breeding in general; I will nowconsider some of the various modes and degrees of it. 

Very few, scarcely any, are wanting in the respect which they should showto those whom they acknowledge to be infinitely their superiors; such ascrowned heads, princes, and public persons of distinguished and eminentposts. It is the manner of showing that respect which is different. Theman of fashion and of the world, expresses it in its fullest extent; butnaturally, easily, and without concern: whereas a man, who is not used tokeep good company, expresses it awkwardly; one sees that he is not usedto it, and that it costs him a great deal: but I never saw the worst-bredman living guilty of lolling, whistling, scratching his head, andsuch-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 gracefulmanner. This is what observation and experience must teach you. 

In mixed companies, whoever is admitted to make part of them, is, for thetime 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 beless upon their guard; and so they may, provided it be within certainbounds, which are upon no occasion to be transgressed. But, upon theseoccasions, though no one is entitled to distinguished marks of respect, everyone claims, and very justly, every mark of civility andgood-breeding. Ease is allowed, but carelessness and negligence arestrictly forbidden. If a man accosts you, and talks to you ever so dullyor 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 ablockhead, and not worth hearing. It is much more so with regard towomen; who, of whatever rank they are, are entitled, in consideration oftheir sex, not only to an attentive, but an officious good-breeding frommen. 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-bredman. 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 themto others; who, in their turns, will offer them to you; so that, upon thewhole, you will in your turn enjoy your share of the common right. Itwould be endless for me to enumerate all the particular instances inwhich a well-bred man shows his good-breeding in good company; and itwould be injurious to you to suppose that your own good sense will notpoint them out to you; and then your own good-nature will recommend, andyour self-interest enforce the practice. 

There is a third sort of good-breeding, in which people are the most aptto fail, from a very mistaken notion that they cannot fail at all. I meanwith regard to one's most familiar friends and acquaintances, or thosewho really are our inferiors; and there, undoubtedly, a greater degree ofease is not only allowed, but proper, and contributes much to thecomforts of a private, social life. But that ease and freedom have theirbounds too, which must by no means be violated. A certain degree ofnegligence and carelessness becomes injurious and insulting, from thereal or supposed inferiority of the persons: and that delightful libertyof conversation among a few friends is soon destroyed, as liberty oftenhas been, by being carried to licentiousness. But example explains thingsbest, and I will put a pretty strong case. Suppose you and me alonetogether; I believe you will allow that I have as good a right tounlimited freedom in your company, as either you or I can possibly havein any other; and I am apt to believe too, that you would indulge me inthat freedom as far as anybody would. But, notwithstanding this, do youimagine that I should think there were no bounds to that freedom? Iassure you, I should not think so; and I take myself to be as much tieddown by a certain degree of good manners to you, as by other degrees ofthem to other people. Were I to show you, by a manifest inattention towhat you said to me, that I was thinking of something else the wholetime; were I to yawn extremely, snore, or break wind in your company, Ishould think that I behaved myself to you like a beast, and should notexpect that you would care to frequent me. No. The most familiar andintimate habitudes, connections, and friendships, require a degree ofgood-breeding, both to preserve and cement them. If ever a man and hiswife, or a man and his mistress, who pass nights as well as daystogether, absolutely lay aside all good-breeding, their intimacy willsoon degenerate into a coarse familiarity, infallibly productive ofcontempt or disgust. The best of us have our bad sides, and it is asimprudent, as it is ill-bred, to exhibit them. I shall certainly not useceremony with you; it would be misplaced between us: but I shallcertainly observe that degree of good-breeding with you, which is, in thefirst place, decent, and which I am sure is absolutely necessary to makeus 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; andupon which I shall frequently refresh your memory hereafter; but I willconclude with these axioms:

That the deepest learning, without good-breeding, is unwelcome andtiresome pedantry, and of use nowhere but in a man's own closet; andconsequently of little or no use at all. 

That a man, Who is not perfectly well-bred, is unfit for good company andunwelcome in it; will consequently dislike it soon, afterward renounceit; 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 forcompany. 

Make then, my dear child, I conjure you, good-breeding the great objectof your thoughts and actions, at least half the day. Observe carefullythe behavior and manners of those who are distinguished by theirgood-breeding; imitate, nay, endeavor to excel, that you may at leastreach them; and be convinced that good-breeding is, to all worldlyqualifications, what charity is to all Christian virtues. Observe how itadorns merit, and how often it covers the want of it. May you wear it toadorn, 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 ofcommon sense, and is practiced by every man, of common good-nature. Thisgood-breeding is general, independent of modes, and consists in endeavorsto please and oblige our fellow-creatures by all good offices, short ofmoral 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 itto extend to the sacrifice of our own conveniences, for the sake of otherpeople's. Utility introduced this sort of good-breeding as it introducedcommerce; and established a truck of the little 'agremens' and pleasuresof life. I sacrifice such a conveniency to you, you sacrifice another tome; this commerce circulates, and every individual finds his account init upon the whole. The third sort of good-breeding is local, and isvariously modified, in not only different countries, but in differenttowns of the same country. But it must be founded upon the two formersorts; they are the matter to which, in this case, fashion and customonly give the different shapes and impressions. Whoever has the two firstsorts will easily acquire this third sort of good-breeding, which dependssingly upon attention and observation. It is, properly, the polish, thelustre, the last finishing stroke of good-breeding. It is to be foundonly in capitals, and even there it varies; the good-breeding of Romediffering, 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 ofLondon. A man of sense, therefore, carefully attends to the local mannersof the respective places where he is, and takes for his models thosepersons whom he observes to be at the head of fashion and good-breeding. He watches how they address themselves to their superiors, how theyaccost their equals, and how they treat their inferiors; and lets none ofthose little niceties escape him which are to good-breeding what the lastdelicate and masterly touches are to a good picture; and of which thevulgar 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. Thesepersonal graces are of very great consequence. They anticipate thesentiments, before merit can engage the understanding; they captivate theheart, and give rise, I believe, to the extravagant notions of charms andphilters. Their effects were so surprising, that they were reckonedsupernatural. The most graceful and best-bred men, and the handsomest andgenteelest 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 aclumsy load of gold and silver, but by the taste and fashion of it. Thewomen 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 yourawkwardness the more. But I am unwilling to suppose you still awkward;for surely, by this time, you must have catched a good air in goodcompany. When you went from hence you were naturally awkward; but yourawkwardness was adventitious and Westmonasterial. Leipsig, I apprehend, is not the seat of the Graces; and I presume you acquired none there. Butnow, if you will be pleased to observe what people of the first fashiondo with their legs and arms, heads and bodies, you will reduce yours tocertain decent laws of motion. You danced pretty well here, and ought todance very well before you come home; for what one is obliged to dosometimes, one ought to be able to do well. Besides, 'la belle dansedonne du brillant a un jeune homme'. And you should endeavor to shine. Acalm serenity, negative merit and graces, do not become your age. Youshould be 'alerte, adroit, vif'; be wanted, talked of, impatientlyexpected, and unwillingly parted with in company. I should be glad tohear 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 notmean singly with regard to women as the principal object; but, withregard to men, and with a view of your making yourself considerable. Forwith 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, willplease, engage, and connect men, much easier and more than he wouldotherwise. You must be sensible that you cannot rise in the world, without forming connections, and engaging different characters toconspire in your point. You must make them your dependents without theirknowing it, and dictate to them while you seem to be directed by them. Those necessary connections can never be formed, or preserved, but by anuninterrupted series of complaisance, attentions, politeness, and someconstraint. You must engage their hearts, if you would have theirsupport; you must watch the 'mollia tempora', and captivate them by the'agremens' and charms of conversation. People will not be called out toyour service, only when you want them; and, if you expect to receivestrength from them, they must receive either pleasure or advantage fromyou. 

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, willmake me suspect him of partiality, and think him 'le medecin tant mieux'. Consider, therefore, what weight any future deposition of his against youmust necessarily have with me. As, in that case, he will be a veryunwilling, 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 itrather set before you the unfitness and disadvantages of ill-breeding, than the utility and necessity of good; it was rather negative thanpositive. This, therefore, should go further, and explain to you thenecessity, which you, of all people living, lie under, not only of beingpositively and actively well-bred, but of shining and distinguishingyourself by your good-breeding. Consider your own situation in everyparticular, and judge whether it is not essentially your interest, byyour own good-breeding to others, to secure theirs to you and that, letme assure you, is the only way of doing it; for people will repay, andwith interest too, inattention with inattention, neglect with neglect, and ill manners with worse: which may engage you in very disagreeableaffairs. In the next place, your profession requires, more than anyother, the nicest and most distinguished good-breeding. You willnegotiate with very little success, if you do not previously, by yourmanners, conciliate and engage the affections of those with whom you areto negotiate. Can you ever get into the confidence and the secrets of thecourts where you may happen to reside, if you have not those pleasing, insinuating manners, which alone can procure them? Upon my word, I do notsay too much, when I say that superior good-breeding, insinuatingmanners, and genteel address, are half your business. Your knowledge willhave but very little influence upon the mind, if your manners prejudicethe heart against you; but, on the other hand, how easily will you DUPEthe understanding, where you have first engaged the heart? and hearts areby no means to be gained by that mere common civility which everybodypractices. Bowing again to those who bow to you, answering dryly thosewho speak to you, and saying nothing offensive to anybody, is suchnegative good-breeding that it is only not being a brute; as it would bebut a very poor commendation of any man's cleanliness to say that he didnot stink. It is an active, cheerful, officious, seducing, good-breedingthat must gain you the good-will and first sentiments of men, and theaffections of the women. You must carefully watch and attend to theirpassions, their tastes, their little humors and weaknesses, and 'aller audevant'. You must do it at the same time with alacrity and'empressement', and not as if you graciously condescended to humor theirweaknesses. 

For instance, suppose you invited anybody to dine or sup with you, youought 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 APREFERENCE, AND THEREFORE I ORDERED IT; THIS IS THE WINE THAT I OBSERVEDYOU LIKED, AND THEREFORE I PROCURED SOME. The more trifling these thingsare, the more they prove your attention for the person, and areconsequently the more engaging. Consult your own breast, and recollecthow these little attentions, when shown you by others, flatter thatdegree of self-love and vanity from which no man living is free. Reflecthow they incline and attract you to that person, and how you arepropitiated afterward to all which that person says or does. The samecauses will have the same effects in your favor. Women, in a greatdegree, establish or destroy every man's reputation of good-breeding; youmust, therefore, in a manner, overwhelm them with these attentions: theyare used to them, they expect them, and, to do them justice, theycommonly requite them. You must be sedulous, and rather over officiousthan under, in procuring them their coaches, their chairs, theirconveniences in public places: not see what you should not see; andrather assist, where you cannot help seeing. Opportunities of showingthese attentions present themselves perpetually; but if they do not, makethem. As Ovid advises his lover, when he sits in the Circus near hismistress, to wipe the dust off her neck, even if there be none: 'Sinullus, tamen excute nullum'. Your conversation with women should alwaysbe respectful; but, at the same time, enjoue, and always addressed totheir vanity. Everything you say or do should convince them of the regardyou have (whether you have it or not) for their beauty, their wit, ortheir merit. Men have possibly as much vanity as women, though of anotherkind; and both art and good-breeding require, that, instead ofmortifying, you should please and flatter it, by words and looks ofapprobation. Suppose (which is by no means improbable) that, at yourreturn to England, I should place you near the person of some one of theroyal family; in that situation, good-breeding, engaging address, adornedwith all the graces that dwell at courts, would very probably make you afavorite, and, from a favorite, a minister; but all the knowledge andlearning in the world, without them, never would. The penetration ofprinces seldom goes deeper than the surface. 

It is the exterior that always engages their hearts; and I would neveradvise you to give yourself much trouble about their understanding. Princes in general (I mean those 'Porphyrogenets' who are born and bredin purple) are about the pitch of women; bred up like them, and are to beaddressed and gained in the same manner. They always see, they seldomweigh. Your lustre, not your solidity, must take them; your inside willafterward support and secure what your outside has acquired. With weakpeople (and they undoubtedly are three parts in four of mankind)good-breeding, address, and manners are everything; they can go nodeeper; but let me assure you that they are a great deal even with peopleof the best understandings. Where the eyes are not pleased, and the heartis not flattered, the mind will be apt to stand out. Be this right orwrong, I confess I am so made myself. Awkwardness and ill-breeding shockme to that degree, that where I meet with them, I cannot find in my heartto inquire into the intrinsic merit of that person--I hastily decide inmyself that he can have none; and am not sure that I should not even besorry to know that he had any. I often paint you in my imagination, inyour present 'lontananza', and, while I view you in the light of ancientand modern learning, useful and ornamental knowledge, I am charmed withthe prospect; but when I view you in another light, and represent youawkward, ungraceful, ill-bred, with vulgar air and manners, shamblingtoward me with inattention and DISTRACTIONS, I shall not pretend todescribe to you what I feel; but will do as a skillful painter didformerly--draw a veil before the countenance of the father. 

I dare say you know already enough of architecture, to know that theTuscan is the strongest and most solid of all the orders; but at the sametime, it is the coarsest and clumsiest of them. Its solidity doesextremely well for the foundation and base floor of a great edifice; butif the whole building be Tuscan, it will attract no eyes, it will stop nopassengers, it will invite no interior examination; people will take itfor granted that the finishing and furnishing cannot be worth seeing, where the front is so unadorned and clumsy. But if, upon the solid Tuscanfoundation, the Doric, the Ionic, and the Corinthian orders risegradually with all their beauty, proportions, and ornaments, the fabricseizes the most incurious eye, and stops the most careless passenger; whosolicits admission as a favor, nay, often purchases it. Just so will itfare with your little fabric, which, at present, I fear, has more of theTuscan than of the Corinthian order. You must absolutely change the wholefront, or nobody will knock at the door. The several parts, which mustcompose this new front, are elegant, easy, natural, superiorgood-breeding; an engaging address; genteel motions; an insinuatingsoftness 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 considerat 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; youwould run your heads against each other, cut each other's fingers, instead of your meat, or die by the precipitate infusion of scaldingsoup. 

This is really so copious a subject, that there is no end of being eitherserious or ludicrous upon it. It is impossible, too, to enumerate orstate to you the various cases in good-breeding; they are infinite; thereis no situation or relation in the world so remote or so intimate, thatdoes not require a degree of it. Your own good sense must point it out toyou; your own good-nature must incline, and your interest prompt you topractice it; and observation and experience must give you the manner, theair and the graces which complete the whole. 

This letter will hardly overtake you, till you are at or near Rome. Iexpect a great deal in every way from your six months' stay there. Mymorning hopes are justly placed in Mr. Harte, and the masters he willgive you; my evening ones, in the Roman ladies: pray be attentive toboth. But I must hint to you, that the Roman ladies are not 'les femmessavantes, et ne vous embrasseront point pour Pamour du Grec. They musthave 'ilgarbato, il leggiadro, it disinvolto, il lusinghiero, quel non soche, che piace, che alletta, che incanta'. 

I have often asserted, that the profoundest learning and the politestmanners were by no means incompatible, though so seldom found united inthe same person; and I have engaged myself to exhibit you, as a proof ofthe truth of this assertion. Should you, instead of that, happen todisprove me, the concern indeed would be mine, but the loss will beyours. Lord Bolingbroke is a strong instance on my side of the question;he joins to the deepest erudition, the most elegant politeness andgood-breeding that ever any courtier and man of the world was adornedwith. And Pope very justly called him "All-accomplished St. John, " withregard to his knowledge and his manners. He had, it is true, his faults;which proceeded from unbounded ambition, and impetuous passions; but theyhave now subsided by age and experience; and I can wish you nothingbetter than to be, what he is now, without being what he has beenformerly. His address pre-engages, his eloquence persuades, and hisknowledge informs all who approach him. Upon the whole, I do desire, andinsist, that from after dinner till you go to bed, you makegood-breeding, address, and manners, your serious object and your onlycare. 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 tohimself some object more important than mere respiration and obscureanimal existence. He desires to distinguish himself among hisfellow-creatures; and, 'alicui negotio intentus, prreclari facinoris, autartis bonae, faman quaerit'. Caesar, when embarking in a storm, said, that it was not necessary he should live; but that it was absolutelynecessary he should get to the place to which he was going. And Plinyleaves mankind this only alternative; either of doing what deserves to bewritten, or of writing what deserves to be read. As for those who doneither, 'eorum vitam mortemque juxta aestumo; quoniam de utraquesiletur'. 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 bevain and frivolous. In either case, 'Sapere est princihium et fons'; butit is by no means all. That knowledge must be adorned, it must havelustre as well as weight, or it will be oftener taken, for lead than forgold. Knowledge you have, and will have: I am easy upon that article. Butmy 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 thisletter to another subject, pretty near akin to them, and which, I amsure, you are full as deficient in; I mean Style. 

Style is the dress of thoughts; and let them be ever so just, if yourstyle is homely, coarse, and vulgar, they will appear to as muchdisadvantage, and be as ill received as your person, though ever so wellproportioned, would, if dressed in rags, dirt, and tatters. It is notevery understanding that can judge of matter; but every ear can and doesjudge, more or less, of style: and were I either to speak or write to thepublic, I should prefer moderate matter, adorned with all the beautiesand elegancies of style, to the strongest matter in the world, ill-wordedand ill-delivered. Your business is negotiation abroad, and oratory inthe 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 anoffice-letter to a secretary of state, which letter is to be read by thewhole Cabinet Council, and very possibly afterward laid beforeparliament; any one barbarism, solecism, or vulgarism in it, would, in avery few days, circulate through the whole kingdom, to your disgrace andridicule. For instance, I will suppose you had written the followingletter from The Hague to the Secretary of State at London; and leave youto suppose the consequences of it:

MY LORD: I HAD, last night, the honor of your Lordship's letter of the24th; and will SET ABOUT DOING the orders contained THEREIN; and IF so BEthat I can get that affair done by the next post, I will not fail FOR TOgive your Lordship an account of it by NEXT POST. I have told the FrenchMinister, AS HOW THAT IF that affair be not soon concluded, your Lordshipwould think it ALL LONG OF HIM; and that he must have neglected FOR TOhave wrote to his court about it. I must beg leave to put your Lordshipin mind AS HOW, that I am now full three quarter in arrear; and if SO BEthat I do not very soon receive at least one half year, I shall CUT AVERY BAD FIGURE; FOR THIS HERE place is very dear. I shall be VASTLYBEHOLDEN to your Lordship for THAT THERE mark of your favor; and so IREST or REMAIN, Your, etc. 

You will tell me, possibly, that this is a caricatura of an illiberal andinelegant style: I will admit it; but assure you, at the same time, thata dispatch with less than half these faults would blow you up forever. Itis by no means sufficient to be free from faults, in speaking andwriting; but you must do both correctly and elegantly. In faults of thiskind, it is not 'ille optimus qui minimis arguetur'; but he isunpardonable who has any at all, because it is his own fault: he needonly 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 maymake himself an orator; and the very first principle of an orator is tospeak his own language, particularly, with the utmost purity andelegance. 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 andridiculed. 

A person of the House of Commons, speaking two years ago upon navalaffairs; asserted, that we had then the finest navy UPON THE FACE OF THEYEARTH. This happy mixture of blunder and vulgarism, you may easilyimagine, was matter of immediate ridicule; but I can assure you that itcontinues so still, and will be remembered as long as he lives andspeaks. Another, speaking in defense of a gentleman, upon whom a censurewas moved, happily said that he thought that gentleman was more LIABLE tobe thanked and rewarded, than censured. You know, I presume, that LIABLEcan 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 aparticular view to their language, and they may possibly correct thatCURIOUS INFELICITY OF DICTION, which you acquired at Westminster. Mr. Harte excepted, I will admit that you have met with very few Englishabroad, who could improve your style; and with many, I dare say, whospeak 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. Ineed not tell you how attentive the Romans and Greeks, particularly theAthenians, were to this object. It is also a study among the Italians andthe French; witness their respective academies and dictionaries forimproving and fixing their languages. To our shame be it spoken, it isless attended to here than in any polite country; but that is no reasonwhy you should not attend to it; on the contrary, it will distinguish youthe more. Cicero says, very truly, that it is glorious to excel other menin that very article, in which men excel brutes; SPEECH. 

Constant experience has shown me, that great purity and elegance ofstyle, with a graceful elocution, cover a multitude of faults, in eithera speaker or a writer. For my own part, I confess (and I believe mostpeople are of my mind) that if a speaker should ungracefully mutter orstammer out to me the sense of an angel, deformed by barbarism andsolecisms, or larded with vulgarisms, he should never speak to me asecond time, if I could help it. Gain the heart, or you gain nothing; theeyes and the ears are the only roads to the heart. Merit and knowledgewill 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 ascertainly 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 hereafteracquire, and with all merit that ever man had, if you have not a gracefuladdress, liberal and engaging manners, a prepossessing air, and a gooddegree of eloquence in speaking and writing; you will be nobody; but willhave the daily mortification of seeing people, with not one-tenth part ofyour merit or knowledge, get the start of you, and disgrace you, both incompany 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; makeyourself a pure and elegant English style: it requires nothing butapplication. I do not find that God has made you a poet; and I am veryglad 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 longeras such; and when I reflect upon the prodigious quantity of manure thathas been laid upon you, I expect that you should produce more ateighteen, 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 theyear, 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 andindecencies, not cognizable by law, were, however, not thought below thepublic care, censors were established, discretionally to supply, inparticular cases, the inevitable defects of the law, which must and canonly be general. This employment I assume to myself with regard to yourlittle republic, leaving the legislative power entirely to Mr. Harte; Ihope, and believe, that he will seldom, or rather never, have occasion toexert his supreme authority; and I do by no means suspect you of anyfaults that may require that interposition. But, to tell you the plaintruth, I am of opinion that my censorial power will not be useless toyou, nor a sinecure to me. The sooner you make it both, the better for usboth. I can now exercise this employment only upon hearsay, or, at most, written evidence; and therefore shall exercise it with great lenity andsome diffidence; but when we meet, and that I can form my judgment uponocular 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 partialityof an author: different in this respect, indeed, from most critics, thatI shall seek for faults only to correct and not to expose them. I haveoften thought, and still think, that there are few things which people ingeneral know less, than how to love and how to hate. They hurt those theylove by a mistaken indulgence, by a blindness, nay, often by a partialityto their faults. Where they hate they hurt themselves, by ill-timedpassion and rage. Fortunately for you, I never loved you in that mistakenmanner. From your infancy, I made you the object of my most seriousattention, and not my plaything. I consulted your real good, not yourhumors or fancies; and I shall continue to do so while you want it, whichwill probably be the case during our joint lives; for, considering thedifference of our ages, in the course of nature, you will hardly haveacquired experience enough of your own, while I shall be in condition oflending you any of mine. People in general will much better bear being, told of their vices or crimes, than of their little failings andweaknesses. They, in some degree, justify or excuse (as they think) theformer, by strong passions, seductions, and artifices of others, but tobe told of, or to confess, their little failings and weaknesses, impliesan inferiority of parts, too mortifying to that self-love and vanity, which are inseparable from our natures. I have been intimate enough withseveral people to tell them that they had said or done a very criminalthing; but I never was intimate enough with any man, to tell him, veryseriously, that he had said or done a very foolish one. Nothing less thanthe relation between you and me can possibly authorize that freedom; butfortunately for you, my parental rights, joined to my censorial powers, give it me in its fullest extent, and my concern for you will make meexert it. Rejoice, therefore, that there is one person in the world whocan and will tell you what will be very useful to you to know, and yetwhat no other man living could or would tell you. Whatever I shall tellyou of this kind, you are very sure, can have no other motive than yourinterest; I can neither be jealous nor envious of your reputation orfortune, which I must be both desirous and proud to establish andpromote; I cannot be your rival either in love or in business; on thecontrary, I want the rays of your rising to reflect new lustre upon mysetting light. In order to this, I shall analyze you minutely, andcensure 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 theworld, has more reason to dread, and consequently should take more painsto avoid, than having any ridicule fixed upon him. It degrades him withthe most reasonable part of mankind; but it ruins him with the rest; andI have known many a man undone by acquiring a ridiculous nickname: Iwould not, for all the riches in the world, that you should acquire onewhen you return to England. Vices and crimes excite hatred and reproach;failings, weaknesses, and awkwardnesses, excite ridicule; they are laidhold of by mimics, who, though very contemptible wretches themselves, often, by their buffoonery, fix ridicule upon their betters. The littledefects in manners, elocution, address, and air (and even of figure, though very unjustly), are the objects of ridicule, and the causes ofnicknames. You cannot imagine the grief it would give me, and theprejudice it would do you, if, by way of distinguishing you from othersof your name, you should happen to be called Muttering Stanhope, AbsentStanhope, Ill-bred Stanhope, or Awkward, Left-legged Stanhope: therefore, take great care to put it out of the power of Ridicule itself to give youany of these ridiculous epithets; for, if you get one, it will stick toyou, like the envenomed shirt. The very first day that I see you, I shallbe able to tell you, and certainly shall tell you, what degree of dangeryou are in; and I hope that my admonitions, as censor, may prevent thecensures of the public. Admonitions are always useful; is this one ornot? 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, inyour conscience, you think it like; for there are some parts of it whichI 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, whichrelates to you. --[In compliance to your orders, I have examined youngStanhope carefully, and think I have penetrated into his character. Thisis 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 presentrather too square; but if he shoots up, which he has matter and yearsfor, he will then be of a good size. He has, undoubtedly, a great fund ofacquired knowledge; I am assured that he is master of the learnedlanguages. 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 thirstafter knowledge. I cannot say that he appears equally desirous ofpleasing, for he seems to neglect attentions and the graces. He does notcome into a room well, nor has he that easy, noble carriage, which wouldbe proper for him. It is true, he is as yet young and inexperienced; onemay therefore reasonably hope that his exercises, which he has not yetgone through, and good company, in which he is still a novice, willpolish, and give all that is wanting to complete him. What seemsnecessary for that purpose, would, be an attachment to some woman offashion, and who knows the world. Some Madame de l'Ursay would be theproper person. In short, I can assure you, that he has everything whichLord Chesterfield can wish him, excepting that carriage, those graces, and the style used in the best company; which he will certainly acquirein time, and by frequenting the polite world. If he should not, it wouldbe great pity, since he so well deserves to possess them. You know theirimportance. My Lord, his father, knows it too, he being master of themall. To conclude, if little Stanhope acquires the graces, I promise youhe will make his way; if not, he will be stopped in a course, the goal ofwhich 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 atVenice. I love long residences at capitals; running post throughdifferent places is a most unprofitable way of traveling, and admits ofno application. Adieu. 

You see, by this extract, of what consequence other people think thesethings. 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 greatbusiness: but then he knows what things are little, and what not. He doesnot suppose things are little, because they are commonly called so: butby the consequences that may or may not attend them. If gaining people'saffections, and interesting their hearts in your favor, be ofconsequence, as it undoubtedly is, he knows very well that a happyconcurrence of all those, commonly called little things, manners, air, address, graces, etc. , is of the utmost consequence, and will never be atrest till he has acquired them. The world is taken by the outside ofthings, and we must take the world as it is; you nor I cannot set itright. I know, at this time, a man of great quality and station, who hasnot the parts of a porter; but raised himself to the station he is in, singly by having a graceful figure, polite manners, and an engagingaddress; which, by the way, he only acquired by habit; for he had notsense enough to get them by reflection. Parts and habit should conspireto complete you. You will have the habit of good company, and you havereflection in your power. 

LETTER XCIII

LONDON, December 5, O. S. 1749. 

DEAR BOY: Those who suppose that men in general act rationally, becausethey are called rational creatures, know very little of the world, and ifthey act themselves upon that supposition, will nine times in ten findthemselves grossly mistaken. That man is, 'animal bipes, implume, risibile', I entirely agree; but for the 'rationale', I can only allow ithim 'in actu primo' (to talk logic) and seldom in 'actu secundo'. Thus, the speculative, cloistered pedant, in his solitary cell, forms systemsof things as they should be, not as they are; and writes as decisivelyand absurdly upon war, politics, manners, and characters, as that pedanttalked, who was so kind as to instruct Hannibal in the art of war. Suchcloset politicians never fail to assign the deepest motives for the mosttrifling actions; instead of often ascribing the greatest actions to themost trifling causes, in which they would be much seldomer mistaken. Theyread and write of kings, heroes, and statesmen, as never doing anythingbut upon the deepest principles of sound policy. But those who see andobserve kings, heroes, and statesmen, discover that they have headaches, indigestions, humors, and passions, just like other people; everyone ofwhich, in their turns, determine their wills, in defiance of theirreason. Had we only read in the "Life of Alexander, " that he burnedPersepolis, it would doubtless have been accounted for from deep policy:we should have been told, that his new conquest could not have beensecured without the destruction of that capital, which would have beenthe constant seat of cabals, conspiracies, and revolts. But, luckily, weare informed at the same time, that this hero, this demi-god, this sonand heir of Jupiter Ammon, happened to get extremely drunk with hisw---e; and, by way of frolic, destroyed one of the finest cities in theworld. Read men, therefore, yourself, not in books but in nature. Adoptno systems, but study them yourself. Observe their weaknesses, theirpassions, their humors, of all which their understandings are, nine timesin 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, whichtend 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 ourconstitution makes eloquence more useful, and more necessary, in thiscountry than in any other in Europe. A certain degree of good sense andknowledge is requisite for that, as well as for everything else; butbeyond that, the purity of diction, the elegance of style, the harmony ofperiods, a pleasing elocution, and a graceful action, are the thingswhich a public speaker should attend to the most; because his audiencecertainly does, and understands them the best; or rather indeedunderstands little else. The late Lord Chancellor Cowper's strength as anorator lay by no means in his reasonings, for he often hazarded very weakones. But such was the purity and elegance of his style, such thepropriety and charms of his elocution, and such the gracefulness of hisaction, that he never spoke without universal applause; the ears and theeyes gave him up the hearts and the understandings of the audience. Onthe contrary, the late Lord Townshend always spoke materially, withargument and knowledge, but never pleased. Why? His diction was not onlyinelegant, but frequently ungrammatical, always vulgar; his cadencesfalse, his voice unharmonious, and his action ungraceful. Nobody heardhim with patience; and the young fellows used to joke upon him, andrepeat his inaccuracies. The late Duke of Argyle, though the weakestreasoner, was the most pleasing speaker I ever knew in my life. Hecharmed, he warmed, he forcibly ravished the audience; not by his mattercertainly, but by his manner of delivering it. A most genteel figure, agraceful, noble air, an harmonious voice, an elegance of style, and astrength of emphasis, conspired to make him the most affecting, persuasive, and applauded speaker I ever saw. I was captivated likeothers; 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 foundthe matter flimsy, the arguments weak, and I was convinced of the powerof those adventitious concurring circumstances, which ignorance ofmankind only calls trifling ones. Cicero, in his book 'De Oratore', inorder to raise the dignity of that profession which he well knew himselfto be at the head of, asserts that a complete orator must be a completeeverything, lawyer, philosopher, divine, etc. That would be extremelywell, if it were possible: but man's life is not long enough; and I holdhim to be the completest orator, who speaks the best upon that subjectwhich occurs; whose happy choice of words, whose lively imagination, whose elocution and action adorn and grace his matter, at the same timethat 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 youmust 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 andelegance in your own language, which you now seem to neglect, and whichyou have entirely to learn. Fortunately for you, it is to be learned. Care and observation will do it; but do not flatter yourself, that allthe knowledge, sense, and reasoning in the world will ever make you apopular and applauded speaker, without the ornaments and the graces ofstyle, elocution, and action. Sense and argument, though coarselydelivered, will have their weight in a private conversation, with two orthree people of sense; but in a public assembly they will have none, ifnaked and destitute of the advantages I have mentioned. Cardinal de Retzobserves, very justly, that every numerous assembly is a mob, influencedby their passions, humors, and affections, which nothing but eloquenceever did or ever can engage. This is so important a consideration foreverybody in this country, and more particularly for you, that Iearnestly recommend it to your most serious care and attention. Mind yourdiction, in whatever language you either write or speak; contract a habitof correctness and elegance. Consider your style, even in the freestconversation 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 yourselfto translate, from various languages into English; correct thosetranslations till they satisfy your ear, as well as your understanding. And be convinced of this truth, that the best sense and reason in theworld will be as unwelcome in a public assembly, without these ornaments, as they will in public companies, without the assistance of manners andpoliteness. If you will please people, you must please them in their ownway; and, as you cannot make them what they should be, you must take themas 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 wrotea most excellent book, which nobody liked; then, determined to conform tothe public taste, he wrote Gargantua and Pantagruel, which everybodyliked, 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 norwritten one single word, without giving myself at least one moment's timeto consider whether it was a good or a bad one, and whether I could notfind out a better in its place. An unharmonious and rugged period, atthis time, shocks my ears; and I, like all the rest of the world, willwillingly exchange and give up some degree of rough sense, for a gooddegree of pleasing sound. I will freely and truly own to you, withouteither vanity or false modesty, that whatever reputation I have acquiredas a speaker, is more owing to my constant attention to my diction thanto my matter, which was necessarily just the same as other people's. Whenyou come into parliament, your reputation as a speaker will depend muchmore upon your words, and your periods, than upon the subject. The samematter occurs equally to everybody of common sense, upon the samequestion; the dressing it well, is what excites the attention andadmiration 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 makeme 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, whoare always mistaken, look upon a speaker and a comet with the sameastonishment and admiration, taking them both for preternaturalphenomena. This error discourages many young men from attempting thatcharacter; and good speakers are willing to have their talent consideredas something very extraordinary, if not, a peculiar gift of God to hiselect. But let you and me analyze and simplify this good speaker; let usstrip him of those adventitious plumes with which his own pride, and theignorance of others, have decked him, and we shall find the truedefinition of him to be no more than this: A man of good common sense whoreasons justly and expresses himself elegantly on that subject upon whichhe speaks. There is, surely, no witchcraft in this. A man of sense, without a superior and astonishing degree of parts, will not talknonsense upon any subject; nor will he, if he has the least taste orapplication, talk inelegantly. What then does all this mighty art andmystery of speaking in parliament amount to? Why, no more than this: thatthe man who speaks in the House of Commons, speaks in that House, and tofour hundred people, that opinion upon a given subject which he wouldmake 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 theHouse of Commons. 

I have spoken frequently in parliament, and not always without someapplause; and therefore I can assure you, from my experience, that thereis very little in it. The elegance of the style, and the turn of theperiods, make the chief impression upon the hearers. Give them but one ortwo round and harmonious periods in a speech, which they will retain andrepeat; and they will go home as well satisfied as people do from anopera, humming all the way one or two favorite tunes that have strucktheir ears, and were easily caught. Most people have ears, but few havejudgment; tickle those ears, and depend upon it, you will catch theirjudgments, such as they are. 

Cicero, conscious that he was at the top of his profession (for in histime eloquence was a profession), in order to set himself off, defines inhis treatise 'De Oratore', an orator to be such a man as never was, nornever will be; and, by his fallacious argument, says that he must knowevery art and science whatsoever, or how shall he speak upon them? But, with submission to so great an authority, my definition of an orator isextremely different from, and I believe much truer than his. I call thatman an orator, who reasons justly, and expresses himself elegantly, uponwhatever subject he treats. Problems in geometry, equations in algebra, processes in chemistry, and experiments in anatomy, are never, that Ihave 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 debatesare subjects of common sense singly. 

Thus I write whatever occurs to me, that I think may contribute either toform or inform you. May my labor not be in vain! and it will not, if youwill 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 HEHAD A HEAD TO CONTRIVE, A TONGUE TO PERSUADE, AND A HAND TO EXECUTE ANYMISCHIEF. I shall not now enter into the justness of this character ofMr. Hampden, to whose brave stand against the illegal demand ofship-money we owe our present liberties; but I mention it to you as thecharacter, which with the alteration of one single word, GOOD, instead ofMISCHIEF, I would have you aspire to, and use your utmost endeavors todeserve. The head to contrive, God must to a certain degree have givenyou; but it is in your own power greatly to improve it, by study, observation, and reflection. As for the TONGUE TO PERSUADE, it whollydepends upon yourself; and without it the best head will contrive to verylittle purpose. The hand to execute depends likewise, in my opinion, in agreat measure upon yourself. Serious reflection will always give couragein a good cause; and the courage arising from reflection is of a muchsuperior nature to the animal and constitutional courage of a footsoldier. The former is steady and unshaken, where the 'nodus' is 'dignusvindice'; the latter is oftener improperly than properly exerted, butalways brutally. 

The second member of my text (to speak ecclesiastically) shall be thesubject of my following discourse; THE TONGUE TO PERSUADE--as judicious, preachers recommend those virtues, which they think their severalaudiences 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 feltthe different effects of elegant and inelegant speaking. Do you notsuffer, when people accost you in a stammering or hesitating manner, inan untuneful voice, with false accents and cadences; puzzling andblundering through solecisms, barbarisms, and vulgarisms; misplacing eventheir bad words, and inverting all method? Does not this prejudice youagainst their matter, be it what it will; nay, even against theirpersons? I am sure it does me. On the other hand, do you not feelyourself inclined, prepossessed, nay, even engaged in favor of those whoaddress you in the direct contrary manner? The effects of a correct andadorned style of method and perspicuity, are incredible towardpersuasion; they often supply the want of reason and argument, but, whenused in the support of reason and argument, they are irresistible. TheFrench attend very much to the purity and elegance of their style, evenin common conversation; insomuch that it is a character to say of a man'qu'il narre bien'. Their conversations frequently turn upon thedelicacies 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 fewItalians, 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 speakit in a public assembly, where the laws and liberties of his country arethe subjects of his deliberation? The tongue that would persuade there, must not content itself with mere articulation. You know what painsDemosthenes took to correct his naturally bad elocution; you know that hedeclaimed by the seaside in storms, to prepare himself for the noise ofthe tumultuous assemblies he was to speak to; and you can now judge ofthe correctness and elegance of his style. He thought all these things ofconsequence, and he thought right; pray do you think so too? It is of theutmost consequence to you to be of that opinion. If you have the leastdefect in your elocution, take the utmost care and pains to correct it. Do not neglect your style, whatever language you speak in, or whoever youspeak to, were it your footman. Seek always for the best words and thehappiest expressions you can find. Do not content yourself with beingbarely understood; but adorn your thoughts, and dress them as you wouldyour person; which, however well proportioned it might be, it would bevery improper and indecent to exhibit naked, or even worse dressed thanpeople of your sort are. 

I have sent you in a packet which your Leipsig acquaintance, Duval, sendsto his correspondent at Rome, Lord Bolingbroke's book, --["Letters on theSpirit of Patriotism, " on the Idea of a Patriot King which he publishedabout 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 oforatory with which it is adorned. Till I read that book, I confess I didnot know all the extent and powers of the English language. LordBolingbroke has both a tongue and a pen to persuade; his manner ofspeaking in private conversation is full as elegant as his writings;whatever subject he either speaks or writes upon, he adorns with the mostsplendid eloquence; not a studied or labored eloquence, but such aflowing happiness of diction, which (from care perhaps at first) isbecome so habitual to him, that even his most familiar conversations, iftaken down in writing, would bear the press, without the least correctioneither as to method or style. If his conduct, in the former part of hislife, had been equal to all his natural and acquired talents, he wouldmost justly have merited the epithet of all-accomplished. He is himselfsensible of his past errors: those violent passions which seduced him inhis youth, have now subsided by age; and take him as he is now, thecharacter of all-accomplished is more his due than any man's I ever knewin my life. 

But he has been a most mortifying instance of the violence of humanpassions and of the weakness of the most exalted human reason. Hisvirtues and his vices, his reason and his passions, did not blendthemselves by a gradation of tints, but formed a shining and suddencontrast. Here the darkest, there the most splendid colors; and bothrendered more shining from their proximity. Impetuosity, excess, andalmost extravagance, characterized not only his passions, but even hissenses. His youth was distinguished by all the tumult and storm ofpleasures, in which he most licentiously triumphed, disdaining alldecorum. His fine imagination has often been heated and exhausted, withhis body, in celebrating and deifying the prostitute of the night; andhis convivial joys were pushed to all the extravagance of franticBacchanals. Those passions were interrupted but by a stronger ambition. The former impaired both his constitution and his character, but thelatter destroyed both his fortune and his reputation. 

He has noble and generous sentiments, rather than fixed reflectedprinciples of good nature and friendship; but they are more violent thanlasting, and suddenly and often varied to their opposite extremes, withregard to the same persons. He receives the common attentions of civilityas obligations, which he returns with interest; and resents with passionthe little inadvertencies of human nature, which he repays with interesttoo. Even a difference of opinion upon a philosophical subject wouldprovoke, and prove him no practical philosopher at least. 

Notwithstanding the dissipation of his youth, and the tumultuousagitation of his middle age, he has an infinite fund of various andalmost universal knowledge, which, from the clearest and quickestconception, and happiest memory, that ever man was blessed with, healways carries about him. It is his pocket-money, and he never hasoccasion to draw upon a book for any sum. He excels more particularly inhistory, as his historical works plainly prove. The relative politicaland commercial interests of every country in Europe, particularly of hisown, are better known to him, than perhaps to any man in it; but howsteadily 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 hispenetration was almost intuition. I am old enough to have heard him speakin parliament. And I remember that, though prejudiced against him byparty, I felt all the force and charms of his eloquence. Like Belial inMilton, "he made the worse appear the better cause. " All the internal andexternal advantages and talents of an orator are undoubtedly his. Figure, voice, elocution, knowledge, and, above all, the purest and most floriddiction, with the justest metaphors and happiest images, had raised himto the post of Secretary at War, at four-and-twenty years old, an age atwhich others are hardly thought fit for the smallest employments. 

During his long exile in France, he applied himself to study with hischaracteristical ardor; and there he formed and chiefly executed the planof a great philosophical work. The common bounds of human knowledge aretoo narrow for his warm and aspiring imagination. He must go 'extraflammantia maenia Mundi', and explore the unknown and unknowable regionsof metaphysics; which open an unbounded field for the excursion of anardent imagination; where endless conjectures supply the defect ofunattainable knowledge, and too often usurp both its name and itsinfluence. 

He has had a very handsome person, with a most engaging address in hisair and manners; he has all the dignity and good-breeding which a man ofquality 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, butdoubting of, though by no means rejecting (as is commonly supposed) theimmortality 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 commoneloquence, which is rather free from faults than adorned by beauties; butthe highest, the most shining degree of eloquence. For God's sake, havethis object always in your view and in your thoughts. Tune your tongueearly to persuasion; and let no jarring, dissonant accents ever fall fromit, Contract a habit of speaking well upon every occasion, and neglectyourself in no one. Eloquence and good-breeding, alone, with an exceedingsmall degree of parts and knowledge, will carry a man a great way; withyour 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 wellsettled at Rome, after the usual distresses and accidents of a winterjourney; which are very proper to teach you patience. Your stay there Ilook upon as a very important period of your life; and I do believe thatyou will fill it up well. I hope you will employ the mornings diligentlywith Mr. Harte, in acquiring weight; and the evenings in the bestcompanies at Rome, in acquiring lustre. A formal, dull father, wouldrecommend to you to plod out the evenings, too, at home, over a book by adim taper; but I recommend to you the evenings for your pleasures, whichare as much a part of your education, and almost as necessary a one, asyour morning studies. Go to whatever assemblies or SPECTACLES people offashion go to, and when you are there do as they do. Endeavor to outshinethose who shine there the most, get the 'Garbo', the 'Gentilezza', the'Leggeadria' of the Italians; make love to the most impertinent beautyof condition that you meet with, and be gallant with all the rest. SpeakItalian, right or wrong, to everybody; and if you do but laugh atyourself first for your bad Italian, nobody else will laugh at you forit. That is the only way to speak it perfectly; which I expect you willdo, because I am sure you may, before you leave Rome. View the mostcurious remains of antiquity with a classical spirit; and they will clearup to you many passages of the classical authors; particularly the Trajanand Antonine Columns; where you find the warlike instruments, thedresses, and the triumphal ornaments of the Romans. Buy also the printsand explanations of all those respectable remains of Roman grandeur, andcompare them with the originals. Most young travelers are contented witha general view of those things, say they are very fine, and then go abouttheir business. I hope you will examine them in a very different way. 'Approfondissez' everything you see or hear; and learn, if you can, theWHY and the WHEREFORE. Inquire into the meaning and the objects of theinnumerable processions, which you will see at Rome at this time. Assistat all the ceremonies, and know the reason, or at least the pretenses ofthem, and however absurd they may be, see and speak of them with greatdecency. Of all things, I beg of you not to herd with your owncountrymen, but to be always either with the Romans, or with the foreignministers residing at Rome. You are sent abroad to see the manners andcharacters, and learn the languages of foreign countries; and not toconverse with English, in English; which would defeat all those ends. Among your graver company, I recommend (as I have done before) theJesuits to you; whose learning and address will both please and improveyou; inform yourself, as much as you can, of the history, policy, andpractice of that society, from the time of its founder, Ignatius ofLoyola, who was himself a madman. If you would know their morality, youwill 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 yourreading. Few people see what they see, or hear what they hear; that is, they see and hear so inattentively and superficially, that they are verylittle 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, andconsequently retain, what you see and hear. You have still two yearsgood, but no more, to form your character in the world decisively; for, within two months after your arrival in England, it will be finally andirrevocably determined, one way or another, in the opinion of the public. Devote, therefore, these two years to the pursuit of perfection; whichought 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 andpleasing; without them all your other talents are maimed and crippled. They are the wings upon which you must soar above other people; withoutthem you will only crawl with the dull mass of mankind. Prepossess byyour air, address, and manners; persuade by your tongue; and you willeasily execute what your head has contrived. I desire that you will sendme very minute accounts from Rome, not of what you see, but, of who yousee; of your pleasures and entertainments. Tell me what companies youfrequent 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 foreverybody; a most necessary one for you, who are destined to an active, public life. You will have to do with all sorts of characters; youshould, therefore, know them thoroughly, in order to manage them ably. This knowledge is not to be gotten systematically; you must acquire ityourself by your own observation and sagacity; I will give you such hintsas 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 manis a rational animal, he will therefore always act rationally; or, because he has such or such a predominant passion, that he will actinvariably and consequentially in the pursuit of it. No. We arecomplicated machines: and though we have one main-spring, that givesmotion to the whole, we have an infinity of little wheels, which, intheir turns, retard, precipitate, and sometimes stop that motion. Let usexemplify. I will suppose ambition to be (as it commonly is) thepredominant passion of a minister of state; and I will suppose thatminister to be an able one. Will he, therefore, invariably pursue theobject of that predominant passion? May I be sure that he will do so andso, because he ought? Nothing less. Sickness or low spirits, may dampthis predominant passion; humor and peevishness may triumph over it;inferior passions may, at times, surprise it and prevail. Is thisambitious statesman amorous? Indiscreet and unguarded confidences, madein tender moments, to his wife or his mistress, may defeat all hisschemes. Is he avaricious? Some great lucrative object, suddenlypresenting itself, may unravel all the work of his ambition. Is hepassionate? Contradiction and provocation (sometimes, it may be, too, artfully intended) may extort rash and inconsiderate expressions, oractions destructive of his main object. Is he vain, and open to flattery?An artful, flattering favorite may mislead him; and even laziness may, atcertain moments, make him neglect or omit the necessary steps to thatheight at which he wants to arrive. Seek first, then, for the predominantpassion of the character which you mean to engage and influence, andaddress yourself to it; but without defying or despising the inferiorpassions; get them in your interest too, for now and then they will havetheir turns. In many cases, you may not have it in your power tocontribute to the gratification of the prevailing passion; then take thenext best to your aid. There are many avenues to every man; and when youcannot get at him through the great one, try the serpentine ones, and youwill arrive at last. 

There are two inconsistent passions, which, however, frequently accompanyeach other, like man and wife; and which, like man and wife too, arecommonly clogs upon each other. I mean ambition and avarice: the latteris often the true cause of the former, and then is the predominantpassion. It seems to have been so in Cardinal Mazarin, who did anything, submitted to anything, and forgave anything, for the sake of plunder. Heloved and courted power, like a usurer, because it carried profit alongwith it. Whoever should have formed his opinion, or taken his measures, singly, from the ambitious part of Cardinal Mazarin's character, wouldhave found himself often mistaken. Some who had found this out, madetheir fortunes by letting him cheat them at play. On the contrary, Cardinal Richelieu's prevailing passion seems to have been ambition, andhis immense riches only the natural consequences of that ambitiongratified; and yet, I make no doubt, but that ambition had now and thenits turn with the former, and avarice with the latter. Richelieu (by theway) is so strong a proof of the inconsistency of human nature, that Icannot help observing to you, that while he absolutely governed both hisking and his country, and was, in a great degree, the arbiter of the fateof all Europe, he was more jealous of the great reputation of Corneillethan of the power of Spain; and more flattered with being thought (whathe was not) the best poet, than with being thought (what he certainlywas) the greatest statesman in Europe; and affairs stood still while hewas 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 eachindividual, that no two are exactly alike; and no one at all times likehimself. The ablest man will sometimes do weak things; the proudest man, mean things; the honestest man, ill things; and the wickedest man, goodones. Study individuals then, and if you take (as you ought to do, ) theiroutlines from their prevailing passion, suspend your last finishingstrokes till you have attended to, and discovered the operations of theirinferior passions, appetites, and humors. A man's general character maybe that of the honestest man of the world: do not dispute it; you mightbe thought envious or ill-natured; but, at the same time, do not takethis probity upon trust to such a degree as to put your life, fortune, orreputation in his power. This honest man may happen to be your rival inpower, in interest, or in love; three passions that often put honesty tomost severe trials, in which it is too often cast; but first analyze thishonest man yourself; and then only you will be able to judge how far youmay, or may not, with safety trust him. 

Women are much more like each other than men: they have, in truth, buttwo passions, vanity and love; these are their universal characteristics. An Agrippina may sacrifice them to ambition, or a Messalina to lust; butthose 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 flattersthem most, pleases them best; and they are the most in love with him, whothey think is the most in love with them. No adulation is too strong forthem; no assiduity too great; no simulation of passion too gross; as, onthe other hand, the least word or action that can possibly be construedinto a slight or contempt, is unpardonable, and never forgotten. Men arein this respect tender too, and will sooner forgive an injury than aninsult. Some men are more captious than others; some are alwayswrongheaded; but every man living has such a share of vanity, as to behurt by marks of slight and contempt. Every man does not pretend to be apoet, a mathematician, or a statesman, and considered as such; but everyman pretends to common sense, and to fill his place in the world withcommon decency; and, consequently, does not easily forgive thosenegligences, inattentions and slights which seem to call in question, orutterly deny him both these pretensions. 

Suspect, in general, those who remarkably affect any one virtue; whoraise it above all others, and who, in a manner, intimate that theypossess it exclusively. I say suspect them, for they are commonlyimpostors; but do not be sure that they are always so; for I havesometimes known saints really religious, blusterers really brave, reformers of manners really honest, and prudes really chaste. Pry intothe recesses of their hearts yourself, as far as you are able, and neverimplicitly adopt a character upon common fame; which, though generallyright as to the great outlines of characters, is always wrong in someparticulars. 

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, atthe same time, do not roughly reject them upon that general supposition. Examine further, and see whether those unexpected offers flow from a warmheart and a silly head, or from a designing head and a cold heart; forknavery and folly have often the same symptoms. In the first case, thereis no danger in accepting them, 'valeant quantum valere possunt'. In thelatter case, it may be useful to seem to accept them, and artfully toturn the battery upon him who raised it. 

There is an incontinency of friendship among young fellows, who areassociated by their mutual pleasures only, which has, very frequently, bad consequences. A parcel of warm hearts and inexperienced heads, heatedby convivial mirth, and possibly a little too much wine, vow, and reallymean at the time, eternal friendships to each other, and indiscreetlypour out their whole souls in common, and without the least reserve. These confidences are as indiscreetly repealed as they were made; for newpleasures and new places soon dissolve this ill-cemented connection; andthen very ill uses are made of these rash confidences. Bear your part, however, in young companies; nay, excel, if you can, in all the socialand convivial joy and festivity that become youth. Trust them with yourlove tales, if you please; but keep your serious views secret. Trustthose 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 yourrival; for I would not advise you to depend so much upon the heroicvirtue of mankind, as to hope or believe that your competitor will everbe your friend, as to the object of that competition. 

These are reserves and cautions very necessary to have, but veryimprudent to show; the 'volto sciolto' should accompany them. Adieu. 

LETTER XCVIII

DEAR BOY: Great talents and great virtues (if you should have them) willprocure you the respect and the admiration of mankind; but it is thelesser talents, the 'leniores virtutes', which must procure you theirlove and affection. The former, unassisted and unadorned by the latter, will extort praise; but will, at the same time, excite both fear andenvy; two sentiments absolutely incompatible with love and affection. 

Caesar had all the great vices, and Cato all the great virtues, that mencould have. But Caesar had the 'leniores virtutes' which Cato wanted, andwhich made him beloved, even by his enemies, and gained him the hearts ofmankind, in spite of their reason: while Cato was not even beloved by hisfriends, notwithstanding the esteem and respect which they could notrefuse to his virtues; and I am apt to think, that if Caesar had wanted, and Cato possessed, those 'leniores virtutes', the former would not haveattempted (at least with success), and the latter could have protected, the liberties of Rome. Mr. Addison, in his "Cato, " says of Caesar (and Ibelieve 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, thecourage of a hero, and the virtue of a Stoic, will be admired; but if theknowledge be accompanied with arrogance, the courage with ferocity, andthe virtue with inflexible severity, the man will never be loved. Theheroism of Charles XII. Of Sweden (if his brutal courage deserves thatname) was universally admired, but the man nowhere beloved. Whereas HenryIV. Of France, who had full as much courage, and was much longer engagedin wars, was generally beloved upon account of his lesser and socialvirtues. We are all so formed, that our understandings are generally theDUPES of our hearts, that is, of our passions; and the surest way to theformer is through the latter, which must be engaged by the 'lenioresvirtutes' alone, and the manner of exerting them. The insolent civilityof a proud man is (for example) if possible, more shocking than hisrudeness could be; because he shows you by his manner that he thinks itmere condescension in him; and that his goodness alone bestows upon youwhat you have no pretense to claim. He intimates his protection, insteadof his friendship, by a gracious nod, instead of a usual bow; and rathersignifies his consent that you may, than his invitation that you shouldsit, walk, eat, or drink with him. 

The costive liberality of a purse-proud man insults the distresses itsometimes relieves; he takes care to make you feel your own misfortunes, and the difference between your situation and his; both which heinsinuates to be justly merited: yours, by your folly; his, by hiswisdom. The arrogant pedant does not communicate, but promulgates hisknowledge. 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 ownlearning. Such manners as these, not only in the particular instanceswhich I have mentioned, but likewise in all others, shock and revolt thatlittle pride and vanity which every man has in his heart; and obliteratein us the obligation for the favor conferred, by reminding us of themotive which produced, and the manner which accompanied it. 

These faults point out their opposite perfections, and your own goodsense will naturally suggest them to you. 

But besides these lesser virtues, there are what may be called the lessertalents, or accomplishments, which are of great use to adorn andrecommend all the greater; and the more so, as all people are judges ofthe one, and but few are of the other. Everybody feels the impression, which an engaging address, an agreeable manner of speaking, and an easypoliteness, makes upon them; and they prepare the way for the favorablereception 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 moreparticularly to authorize civil and harmless lies, under the name ofcompliments. People reciprocally profess wishes which they seldom form;and concern, which they seldom feel. This is not the case between you andme, where truth leaves no room for compliments. 

'Dii tibi dent annos, de to nam caetera sumes', was said formerly to oneby a man who certainly did not think it. With the variation of one wordonly, I will with great truth say it to you. I will make the first partconditional by changing, in the second, the 'nam' into 'si'. May you liveas long as you are fit to live, but no longer! or may you rather diebefore you cease to be fit to live, than after! My true tenderness foryou 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 bringguilt, reproach, and shame upon you. I have not malice enough in mynature, to wish that to my greatest enemy. You are the principal objectof all my cares, the only object of all my hopes; I have now reason tobelieve, that you will reward the former, and answer the latter; in thatcase, may you live long, for you must live happy; 'de te nam caeterasumes'. Conscious virtue is the only solid foundation of all happiness;for riches, power, rank, or whatever, in the common acceptation of theword, is supposed to constitute happiness, will never quiet, much lesscure, the inward pangs of guilt. To that main wish, I will add those ofthe good old nurse of Horace, in his epistle to Tibullus: 'Sapere', youhave it in a good degree already. 'Et fari ut possit quae sentiat'. Haveyou that? More, much more is meant by it, than common speech or merearticulation. I fear that still remains to be wished for, and I earnestlywish it to you. 'Gratia and Fama' will inevitably accompany theabove-mentioned qualifications. The 'Valetudo' is the only one that isnot in your own power; Heaven alone can grant it you, and may it do soabundantly! As for the 'mundus victus, non deficiente crumena', do youdeserve, and I will provide them. 

It is with the greatest pleasure that I consider the fair prospect whichyou 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. Yourdestination is a shining one, and leads to rank, fortune, anddistinction. Your education has been calculated for it; and, to do youjustice, that education has not been thrown away upon you. You want buttwo things, which do not want conjuration, but only care, to acquire:eloquence and manners; that is, the graces of speech, and the graces ofbehavior. You may have them; they are as much in your power as powderingyour hair is; and will you let the want of them obscure (as it certainlywill do) that shining prospect which presents itself to you. I am sureyou will not. They are the sharp end, the point of the nail that you aredriving, which must make way first for the larger and more solid parts toenter. Supposing your moral character as pure, and your knowledge assound, as I really believe them both to be; you want nothing for thatperfection, which I have so constantly wished you, and taken so muchpains to give you, but eloquence and politeness. A man who is not bornwith a poetical genius, can never be a poet, or at best an extremely badone; but every man, who can speak at all, can speak elegantly andcorrectly if he pleases, by attending to the best authors and orators;and, indeed, I would advise those who do not speak elegantly, not tospeak at all; for I am sure they will get more by their silence than bytheir speech. As for politeness: whoever keeps good company, and is notpolite, 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 thecourse of this year, see as great a variety of good company in theseveral capitals you will be at, as in any one year of your life; andconsequently must (I should hope) catch some of their manners, almostwhether you will or not; but, as I dare say you will endeavor to do it, Iam convinced you will succeed, and that I shall have pleasure of findingyou, 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 ofthem which relate to eloquence and politeness, you say, or at leastthink, What, will he never have done upon those two subjects? Has he notsaid all he can say upon them? Why the same thing over and over again? Ifyou do think or say so, it must proceed from your not yet knowing theinfinite importance of these two accomplishments, which I cannotrecommend to you too often, nor inculcate too strongly. But if, on thecontrary, you are convinced of the utility, or rather the necessity ofthose two accomplishments, and are determined to acquire them, myrepeated admonitions are only unnecessary; and I grudge no trouble whichcan possibly be of the least use to you. 

I flatter myself, that your stay at Rome will go a great way towardanswering all my views: I am sure it will, if you employ your time, andyour whole time, as you should. Your first morning hours, I would haveyou devote to your graver studies with Mr. Harte; the middle part of theday I would have employed in seeing things; and the evenings in seeingpeople. You are not, I hope, of a lazy, inactive turn, in either body ormind; 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 atParis, to embezzle at least half of it at table. But if, by accident, twoor three hours are sometimes wanting for some useful purpose, borrow themfrom 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; andis, I am persuaded, both unwholesome and stupefying. If, by chance, yourbusiness, or your pleasures, should keep you up till four or five o'clockin the morning, I would advise you, however, to rise exactly at yourusual time, that you may not lose the precious morning hours; and thatthe want of sleep may force you to go to bed earlier the next night. Thisis what I was advised to do when very young, by a very wise man; andwhat, 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 morningthat my companions lost; and the want of sleep obliged me to keep goodhours the next, or at least the third night. To this method I owe thegreatest part of my reading: for, from twenty to forty, I shouldcertainly have read very little, if I had not been up while myacquaintances were in bed. Know the true value of time; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it. No idleness, no laziness, noprocrastination; never put off till to-morrow what you can do today. Thatwas the rule of the famous and unfortunate Pensionary De Witt; who, bystrictly following it, found time, not only to do the whole business ofthe republic, but to pass his evenings at assemblies and suppers, as ifhe 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 anauthority, that I am persuaded you will never give me occasion toexercise. 

'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 ofreligion and morality; your own reason, I am persuaded, has given youtrue notions of both; they speak best for themselves; but if they wantedassistance, you have Mr. Harte at hand, both for precept and example; toyour own reason, therefore, and to Mr. Harte, shall I refer you for thereality of both, and confine myself in this letter to the decency, theutility, and the necessity of scrupulously preserving the appearances ofboth. When I say the appearances of religion, I do not mean that youshould talk or act like a missionary or an enthusiast, nor that youshould take up a controversial cudgel against whoever attacks the sectyou are of; this would be both useless and unbecoming your age; but Imean that you should by no means seem to approve, encourage, or applaud, those libertine notions, which strike at religions equally, and which arethe poor threadbare topics of halfwits and minute philosophers. Eventhose who are silly enough to laugh at their jokes, are still wise enoughto distrust and detest their characters; for putting moral virtues at thehighest, and religion at the lowest, religion must still be allowed to bea collateral security, at least, to virtue, and every prudent man willsooner trust to two securities than to one. Whenever, therefore, youhappen to be in company with those pretended 'Esprits forts', or withthoughtless libertines, who laugh at all religion to show their wit, ordisclaim it, to complete their riot, let no word or look of yoursintimate the least approbation; on the contrary, let a silent gravityexpress your dislike: but enter not into the subject and decline suchunprofitable and indecent controversies. Depend upon this truth, thatevery man is the worse looked upon, and the less trusted for beingthought to have no religion; in spite of all the pompous and speciousepithets he may assume, of 'Esprit fort', freethinker, or moralphilosopher; and a wise atheist (if such a thing there is) would, for hisown 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. Nothingdegrades and vilifies more, for it excites and unites detestation andcontempt. There are, however, wretches in the world profligate enough toexplode all notions of moral good and evil; to maintain that they aremerely local, and depend entirely upon the customs and fashions ofdifferent countries; nay, there are still, if possible, moreunaccountable wretches; I mean those who affect to preach and propagatesuch absurd and infamous notions without believing them themselves. Theseare the devil's hypocrites. Avoid, as much as possible, the company ofsuch people; who reflect a degree of discredit and infamy upon all whoconverse with them. But as you may, sometimes, by accident, fall intosuch company, take great care that no complaisance, no good-humor, nowarmth of festal mirth, ever make you seem even to acquiesce, much lessto approve or applaud, such infamous doctrines. On the other hand, do notdebate nor enter into serious argument upon a subject so much below it:but content yourself with telling these APOSTLES that you know they arenot, serious; that you have a much better opinion of them than they wouldhave you have; and that, you are very sure, they would not practice thedoctrine they preach. But put your private mark upon them, and shun themforever afterward. 

There is nothing so delicate as your moral character, and nothing whichit is your interest so much to preserve pure. Should you be suspected ofinjustice, malignity, perfidy, lying, etc. , all the parts and knowledgein the world will never procure you esteem, friendship, or respect. Astrange concurrence of circumstances has sometimes raised very bad men tohigh stations, but they have been raised like criminals to a pillory, where their persons and their crimes, by being more conspicuous, are onlythe more known, the more detested, and the more pelted and insulted. If, in any case whatsoever, affectation and ostentation are pardonable, it isin the case of morality; though even there, I would not advise you to apharisaical pomp of virtue. But I will recommend to you a most scrupuloustenderness for your moral character, and the utmost care not to say or dothe least thing that may ever so slightly taint it. Show yourself, uponall 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 sortsof crimes, amassed immense wealth), was so sensible of the disadvantageof 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 geta hundred thousand pounds by it; whereas, he was so blasted, that he hadno longer an opportunity of cheating people. Is it possible, then, thatan honest man can neglect what a wise rogue would purchase so dear?

There is one of the vices above mentioned, into which people of goodeducation, and, in the main, of good principles, sometimes fall, frommistaken notions of skill, dexterity, and self-defense, I mean lying;though it is inseparably attended with more infamy and loss than anyother. The prudence and necessity of often concealing the truth, insensibly seduces people to violate it. It is the only art of meancapacities, and the only refuge of mean spirits. Whereas, concealing thetruth, upon proper occasions, is as prudent and as innocent, as telling alie, upon any occasion, is infamous and foolish. I will state you a casein your own department. Suppose you are employed at a foreign court, andthat the minister of that court is absurd or impertinent enough to askyou what your instructions are? will you tell him a lie, which as soon asfound out (and found out it certainly will be) must destroy your credit, blast your character, and render you useless there? No. Will you tell himthe truth then, and betray your trust? As certainly, No. But you willanswer with firmness, That you are surprised at such a question, that youare persuaded he does not expect an answer to it; but that, at allevents, he certainly will not have one. Such an answer will give himconfidence in you; he will conceive an opinion of your veracity, of whichopinion you may afterward make very honest and fair advantages. But if, in negotiations, you are looked upon as a liar and a trickster, noconfidence 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 thecheek; and who, from that mark, cannot afterward get an honest livelihoodif he would, but must continue a thief. 

Lord Bacon, very justly, makes a distinction between simulation anddissimulation; and allows the latter rather than the former; but stillobserves, that they are the weaker sort of politicians who have recourseto either. A man who has strength of mind and strength of parts, wantsneither of them. Certainly (says he) the ablest men that ever were, haveall had an openness and frankness of dealing, and a name of certainty andveracity; but then, they were like horses well managed; for they couldtell, passing well, when to stop or turn; and at such times, when theythought the case indeed required some dissimulation, if then they usedit, it came to pass that the former opinion spread abroad of their goodfaith and clearness of dealing, made them almost invisible. 

There are people who indulge themselves in a sort of lying, which theyreckon innocent, and which in one sense is so; for it hurts nobody butthemselves. This sort of lying is the spurious offspring of vanity, begotten upon folly: these people deal in the marvelous; they have seensome things that never existed; they have seen other things which theynever really saw, though they did exist, only because they were thoughtworth seeing. Has anything remarkable been said or done in any place, orin any company? they immediately present and declare themselves eye orear witnesses of it. They have done feats themselves, unattempted, or atleast unperformed by others. They are always the heroes of their ownfables; and think that they gain consideration, or at least presentattention, by it. Whereas, in truth, all that they get is ridicule andcontempt, not without a good degree of distrust; for one must naturallyconclude, that he who will tell any lie from idle vanity, will notscruple telling a greater for interest. Had I really seen anything sovery 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, ofmy veracity. It is most certain, that the reputation of chastity is notso necessary for a women, as that of veracity is for a man; and withreason; for it is possible for a woman to be virtuous, though notstrictly chaste, but it is not possible for a man to be virtuous withoutstrict veracity. The slips of the poor women are sometimes mere bodilyfrailties; but a lie in a man is a vice of the mind and of the heart. ForGod'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; theymagnify, but they do not create. 

There is a very great difference between the purity of character, which Iso earnestly recommend to you, and the stoical gravity and austerity ofcharacter, which I do by no means recommend to you. At your age, I wouldno more wish you to be a Cato than a Clodius. Be, and be reckoned, a manof pleasure as well as a man of business. Enjoy this happy and giddy timeof your life; shine in the pleasures, and in the company of people ofyour 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 thosemistaken young fellows, who think to shine by an impious or immorallicentiousness, shine only from their stinking, like corrupted flesh, inthe dark. Without this purity, you can have no dignity of character; andwithout dignity of character it is impossible to rise in the world. Youmust be respectable, if you will be respected. I have known peopleslattern away their character, without really polluting it; theconsequence of which has been, that they have become innocentlycontemptible; their merit has been dimmed, their pretensions unregarded, and all their views defeated. Character must be kept bright, as well asclean. Content yourself with mediocrity in nothing. In purity ofcharacter and in politeness of manners labor to excel all, if you wish toequal many. Adieu. 

LETTER CI

LONDON, January 11, O. S. 1750

MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received a letter from Mr. Harte, of the 31stDecember, N. S. , which I will answer soon; and for which I desire you toreturn him my thanks now. He tells me two things that give me greatsatisfaction: one is that there are very few English at Rome; the otheris, that you frequent the best foreign companies. This last is a verygood symptom; for a man of sense is never desirous to frequent thosecompanies, where he is not desirous to please, or where he finds that hedispleases; it will not be expected in those companies, that, at yourage, you should have the 'Garbo', the 'Disinvoltura', and the'Leggiadria' of a man of five-and-twenty, who has been long used to keepthe best companies; and therefore do not be discouraged, and thinkyourself either slighted or laughed at, because you see others, older andmore used to the world, easier, more familiar, and consequently ratherbetter received in those companies than yourself. In time your turn willcome; and if you do but show an inclination, a desire to please, thoughyou should be embarrassed or even err in the means, which mustnecessarily happen to you at first, yet the will (to use a vulgarexpression) will be taken for the deed; and people, instead of laughingat you, will be glad to instruct you. Good sense can only give you thegreat outlines of good-breeding; but observation and usage can alone giveyou the delicate touches, and the fine coloring. You will naturallyendeavor to show the utmost respect to people of certain ranks andcharacters, and consequently you will show it; but the proper, thedelicate manner of showing that respect, nothing but observation and timecan give. 

I remember that when, with all the awkwardness and rust of Cambridgeabout me, I was first introduced into good company, I was frightened outof my wits. I was determined to be, what I thought, civil; I made finelow bows, and placed myself below everybody; but when I was spoken to, orattempted to speak myself, 'obstupui, steteruntque comae, et vox faucibushaesit'. If I saw people whisper, I was sure it was at me; and I thoughtmyself the sole object of either the ridicule or the censure of the wholecompany, who, God knows, did not trouble their heads about me. In thisway I suffered, for some time, like a criminal at the bar; and shouldcertainly have renounced all polite company forever, if I had not been soconvinced of the absolute necessity of forming my manners upon those ofthe best companies, that I determined to persevere and suffer anything, or everything, rather than not compass that point. Insensibly it greweasier to me; and I began not to bow so ridiculously low, and to answerquestions without great hesitation or stammering: if, now and then, somecharitable people, seeing my embarrassment, and being 'desoevre'themselves, came and spoke to me, I considered them as angels sent tocomfort 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 Ithought it a warm day; she answered me, very civilly, that she thought sotoo; upon which the conversation ceased, on my part, for some time, tillshe, good-naturedly resuming it, spoke to me thus: "I see yourembarrassment, and I am sure that the few words you said to me cost you agreat deal; but do not be discouraged for that reason, and avoid goodcompany. 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 thanyou do. You must go through your noviciate before you can professgood-breeding: and, if you will be my novice, I will present you myacquaintance as such. "

You will easily imagine how much this speech pleased me, and howawkwardly I answered it; I hemmed once or twice (for it gave me a bur inmy 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 ownbehavior, not being used to fine company; and that I should be proud ofbeing her novice, and receiving her instructions. 

As soon as I had fumbled out this answer, she called up three or fourpeople to her, and said: Savez-vous (for she was a foreigner, and I wasabroad) 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 undertakenthis young man, and he must be encouraged? As for me, I think I have madea conquest of him; for he just now ventured to tell me, althoughtremblingly, that it is warm. You will assist me in polishing him. Hemust necessarily have a passion for somebody; if he does not think meworthy of being the object, he will seek out some other. However, mynovice, do not disgrace yourself by frequenting opera girls andactresses; who will not require of you sentiments and politeness, butwill be your ruin in every respect. I repeat it to you, my friend, ifyou should get into low, mean company, you will be undone. Thosecreatures 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 notknow whether she was serious or in jest. By turns I was pleased, ashamed, encouraged, and dejected. But when I found afterward, that both she, andthose to whom she had presented me, countenanced and protected me incompany, I gradually got more assurance, and began not to be ashamed ofendeavoring 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 pleasingand shining as a man of the world; that part of your character is theonly one about which I have at present the least doubt. I cannotentertain the least suspicion of your moral character; your learnedcharacter is out of question. Your polite character is now the onlyremaining object that gives me the least anxiety; and you are now in theright way of finishing it. Your constant collision with good companywill, 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 makemany mistakes in good-breeding; that you beg of them to correct you, without reserve, wherever they see you fail; and that you shall take suchadmonition as the strongest proofs of their friendship. Such a confessionand 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 Dukede Nivernois--[At that time Ambassador from the Court of France toRome. ]--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, andconform yourself to them respectively. Use an easy civility with theFrench, 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 behabitual to you; for, if it seems unwilling and forced; it will neverplease. 'Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et res'. Acquire an easiness andversatility of manners, as well as of mind; and, like the chameleon, takethe hue of the company you are with. 

There is a sort of veteran women of condition, who having lived always inthe 'grande monde', and having possibly had some gallantries, togetherwith the experience of five-and-twenty, or thirty years, form a youngfellow better than all the rules that can be given him. These women, being past their bloom, are extremely flattered by the least attentionfrom a young fellow; and they will point out to him those manners andATTENTIONS that pleased and engaged them, when they were in the pride oftheir youth and beauty. Wherever you go, make some of those women yourfriends; which a very little matter will do. Ask their advice, tell themyour doubts or difficulties as to your behavior; but take great care notto drop one word of their experience; for experience implies age; and thesuspicion of age, no woman, let her be ever so old, ever forgives. I longfor your picture, which Mr. Harte tells me is now drawing. I want to seeyour countenance, your air, and even your dress; the better they allthree 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 itto 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 sonear being finished and completed, that my only remaining care is aboutthe embellishments; and that must now be your principal care too. Adornyourself with all those graces and accomplishments, which, withoutsolidity, are frivolous; but without which solidity is, to a greatdegree, useless. Take one man, with a very moderate degree of knowledge, but with a pleasing figure, a prepossessing address, graceful in all thathe says and does, polite, 'liant', and, in short, adorned with all thelesser talents: and take another man, with sound sense and profoundknowledge, but without the above-mentioned advantages; the former willnot 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 canevery man acquire these advantages? I say, Yes, if he please, suppose heis 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 inhis favor, and makes you entertain a good opinion of him, you do not knowwhy, analyze that 'abord', and examine, within yourself, the severalparts 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 yetnot foppish. Copy him, then, not servilely, but as some of the greatestmasters of painting have copied others; insomuch that their copies havebeen equal to the originals, both as to beauty and freedom. When you seea 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 tohim, watch him carefully; observe in what manner he addresses himself tohis superiors, how he lives with his equals, and how he treats hisinferiors. Mind his turn of conversation in the several situations ofmorning visits, the table, and the evening amusements. Imitate, withoutmimicking him; and be his duplicate, but not his ape. You will find thathe takes care never to say or do any thing that can be construed into aslight, or a negligence; or that can, in any degree, mortify people'svanity and self-love; on the contrary, you will perceive that he makespeople pleased with him, by making them first pleased with themselves: heshows respect, regard, esteem and attention, where they are severallyproper: he sows them with care, and he reaps them in plenty. 

These amiable accomplishments are all to be acquired by use andimitation; 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, andeven their way of thinking. This is so true, that I have known very plainunderstandings catch a certain degree of wit, by constantly conversingwith those who had a great deal. Persist, therefore, in keeping the bestcompany, and you will insensibly become like them; but if you addattention and observation, you will very soon become one of them. Theinevitable contagion of company shows you the necessity of keeping thebest, and avoiding all other; for in everyone, something will stick. Youhave hitherto, I confess, had very few opportunities of keeping politecompany. Westminster school is, undoubtedly, the seat of illiberalmanners and brutal behavior. Leipsig, I suppose, is not the seat ofrefined 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 allthat you want; always supposing that you frequent the best companies, andin the intention of improving and forming yourself; for without thatintention 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 andattention to possess. 

To speak elegantly, whatever language you speak in; without which nobodywill hear you with pleasure, and consequently you will speak to verylittle purpose. 

An agreeable and distinct elocution; without which nobody will hear youwith patience: this everybody may acquire, who is not born with someimperfection in the organs of speech. You are not; and therefore it iswholly in your power. You need take much less pains for it thanDemosthenes did. 

A distinguished politeness of manners and address; which common sense, observation, good company, and imitation, will infallibly give you if youwill accept it. 

A genteel carriage and graceful motions, with the air of a man offashion: a good dancing-master, with some care on your part, and someimitation 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 yourdress 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 supposeRome engrosses every moment of your time; and if it engrosses it in themanner 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 Ido not desire to borrow much of it. Your studies, the respectable remainsof antiquity, and your evening amusements cannot, and indeed ought not, to leave you much time to write. You will, probably, never see Romeagain; and therefore you ought to see it well now; by seeing it well, Ido not mean only the buildings, statues, and paintings, though theyundoubtedly deserve your attention: but I mean seeing into theconstitution and government of it. But these things certainly occur toyour own common sense. 

How go, your pleasures at Rome? Are you in fashion there? that is, do youlive with the people who are?--the only way of being so yourself, intime. Are you domestic enough in any considerable house to be called 'lepetit Stanhope'? Has any woman of fashion and good-breeding taken thetrouble of abusing and laughing at you amicably to your face? Have youfound a good 'decrotteuse'. For those are the steps by which you mustrise 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 willsay, eventually, that if you have one, 'il faut bien payer d'attentionset de petits soin', if you would have your sacrifice propitiouslyreceived. Women are not so much taken by beauty as men are, but preferthose 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 sametime easy and unembarrassed. Your chit-chat or 'entregent' with themneither can, nor ought to be very solid; but you should take care to turnand dress up your trifles prettily, and make them every now and thenconvey indirectly some little piece of flattery. A fan, a riband, or ahead-dress, are great materials for gallant dissertations, to one who hasgot 'le ton leger et aimable de la bonne compagnie'. At all events, a manhad better talk too much to women, than too little; they take silence fordullness, unless where they think that the passion they have inspiredoccasions 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 hismistress? Have you got all the tender diminutives, in 'etta, ina', and'ettina', which, I presume, he alluded to? You already possess, and, Ihope, take care not to forget, that language which he reserved for hishorse. You are absolutely master, too, of that language in which he saidhe would converse with men; French. But, in every language, pray attendcarefully to the choice of your words, and to the turn of yourexpression. Indeed, it is a point of very great consequence. To be heardwith success, you must be heard with pleasure: words are the dress ofthoughts; which should no more be presented in rags, tatters, and dirt, than your person should. By the way, do you mind your person and yourdress sufficiently? Do you take great care of your teeth? Pray have themput 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 maintienrespectueux et en meme tems respectable; avec les femmes, un caquetleger, enjoue, et badin, mais toujours fort poli'. 

To give you an opportunity of exerting your talents, I send you, hereinclosed, a letter of recommendation from Monsieur Villettes to Madame deSimonetti 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 MadameClerici, at the same place. As these two ladies' houses are the resort ofall the people of fashion at Milan, those two recommendations willintroduce you to them all. Let me know, in due time, if you have receivedthese two letters, that I may have them renewed, in case of accidents. 

Adieu, my dear friend! Study hard; divert yourself heartily; distinguishcarefully between the pleasures of a man of fashion, and the vices of ascoundrel; 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, andstill fewer of their time; and yet of the two, the latter is the mostprecious. I heartily wish you to be a good economist of both: and you arenow of an age to begin to think seriously of those two importantarticles. Young people are apt to think that they have so much timebefore them, that they may squander what they please of it, and yet haveenough left; as very great fortunes have frequently seduced people to aruinous profusion. Fatal mistakes, always repented of, but always toolate! Old Mr. Lowndes, the famous Secretary of the Treasury in the reignsof King William, Queen Anne, and King George the First, used tosay, --TAKE CARE OF THE PENCE, AND THE POUNDS WILL TAKE CARE OFTHEMSELVES. To this maxim, which he not only preached but practiced, histwo grandsons at this time owe the very considerable fortunes that heleft them. 

This holds equally true as to time; and I most earnestly recommend to youthe care of those minutes and quarters of hours, in the course of theday, which people think too short to deserve their attention; and yet, ifsummed up at the end of the year, would amount to a very considerableportion of time. For example: you are to be at such a place at twelve, byappointment; you go out at eleven, to make two or three visits first;those persons are not at home, instead of sauntering away thatintermediate 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 ofdipping; but some book of rational amusement and detached pieces, asHorace, Boileau, Waller, La Bruyere, etc. This will be so much timesaved, and by no means ill employed. Many people lose a great deal oftime by reading: for they read frivolous and idle books, such as theabsurd romances of the two last centuries; where characters, that neverexisted, 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 nowswarm in France, of fairy tales, 'Reflections sur le coeur et l'esprit, metaphysique de l'amour, analyse des beaux sentimens', and such sort ofidle frivolous stuff, that nourishes and improves the mind just as muchas whipped cream would the body. Stick to the best established books inevery language; the celebrated poets, historians, orators, orphilosophers. By these means (to use a city metaphor) you will make fiftyPER 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 andyawn in a great chair, tell themselves that they have not time to beginanything then, and that it will do as well another time. This is a mostunfortunate disposition, and the greatest obstruction to both knowledgeand business. At your age, you have no right nor claim to laziness; Ihave, if I please, being emeritus. You are but just listed in the world, and must be active, diligent, indefatigable. If ever you proposecommanding with dignity, you must serve up to it with diligence. Neverput off till tomorrow what you can do to-day. 

Dispatch is the soul of business; and nothing contributes more todispatch than method. Lay down a method for everything, and stick to itinviolably, as far as unexpected incidents may allow. Fix one certainhour and day in the week for your accounts, and keep them together intheir 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 mayinstantly have recourse to any one. Lay down a method also for yourreading, for which you allot a certain share of your mornings; let it bein a consistent and consecutive course, and not in that desultory andunmethodical manner, in which many people read scraps of differentauthors, upon different subjects. Keep a useful and short commonplacebook of what you read, to help your memory only, and not for pedanticquotations. Never read history without having maps and a chronologicalbook, or tables, lying by you, and constantly recurred to; without whichhistory is only a confused heap of facts. One method more I recommend toyou, by which I have found great benefit, even in the most dissipatedpart of my life; that is, to rise early, and at the same hour everymorning, how late soever you may have sat up the night before. Thissecures you an hour or two, at least, of reading or reflection before thecommon interruptions of the morning begin; and it will save yourconstitution, by forcing you to go to bed early, at least one night inthree. 

You will say, it may be, as many young people would, that all this orderand method is very troublesome, only fit for dull people, and adisagreeable restraint upon the noble spirit and fire of youth. I denyit; and assert, on the contrary, that it will procure you both more timeand more taste for your pleasures; and, so far from being troublesome toyou, that after you have pursued it a month, it would be troublesome toyou to lay it aside. Business whets the appetite, and gives a taste topleasure, as exercise does to food; and business can never be donewithout method; it raises the spirits for pleasures; and a SPECTACLE, aball, 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 willventure to say, that a fine lady will seem to have more charms to a manof study or business, than to a saunterer. The same listlessness runsthrough his whole conduct, and he is as insipid in his pleasures, asinefficient in everything else. 

I hope you earn your pleasures, and consequently taste them; for, by theway, I know a great many men, who call themselves men of pleasure, butwho, in truth, have none. They adopt other people's indiscriminately, butwithout any taste of their own. I have known them often inflict excessesupon themselves because they thought them genteel; though they sat asawkwardly upon them as other people's clothes would have done. Have nopleasures 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 dansles bonnes compagnies? y brillez-vous du cote de la politesse, ded'enjouement, du badinage? Etes-vous galant? Filex-vous le parfait amour?Est-il question de flechir par vos soins et par vos attentions lesrigueurs de quelque fiere Princesse'? You may safely trust me; for thoughI am a severe censor of vice and folly, I am a friend and advocate forpleasures, and will contribute all in my power to yours. 

There is a certain dignity to be kept up in pleasures, as well as inbusiness. In love, a man may lose his heart with dignity; but if he loseshis nose, he loses his character into the bargain. At table, a man maywith decency have a distinguishing palate; but indiscriminatevoraciousness degrades him to a glutton. A man may play with decency; butif he games, he is disgraced. Vivacity and wit make a man shine incompany; but trite jokes and loud laughter reduce him to a buffoon. [seeMark Twain's identical advice in his 'Speeches' D. W. ] Every virtue, theysay, has its kindred vice; every pleasure, I am sure, has its neighboringdisgrace. Mark carefully, therefore, the line that separates them, andrather 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 Ihave in giving it you! and you may the more easily have it, as I give younone 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; youknow 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 aprogress 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 otherlanguage, the easiest books are generally the best; for, whatever authoris obscure and difficult in his own language, certainly does not thinkclearly. This is, in my opinion, the case of a celebrated Italian author;to whom the Italians, from the admiration they have of him, have giventhe epithet of il divino; I mean Dante. Though I formerly knew Italianextremely well, I could never understand him; for which reason I had donewith him, fully convinced that he was not worth the pains necessary tounderstand him. 

The good Italian authors are, in my mind, but few; I mean, authors ofinvention; for there are, undoubtedly, very good historians and excellenttranslators. The two poets worth your reading, and, I was going to say, the only two, are Tasso and Ariosto. Tasso's 'Gierusalemme Liberata' isaltogether unquestionably a fine poem, though--it has some low, and manyfalse thoughts in it: and Boileau very justly makes it the mark of a badtaste, to compare 'le Clinquant Tasse a l' Or de Virgile'. The image, with which he adorns the introduction of his epic poem, is low anddisgusting; it is that of a froward, sick, puking child, who is deceivedinto 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 afine one. 

If fancy, imagination, invention, description, etc. , constitute a poet, Ariosto is, unquestionably, a great one. His "Orlando, " it is true, is amedley of lies and truths--sacred and profane--wars, loves, enchantments, giants, madheroes, and adventurous damsels, but then, he gives it youvery fairly for what it is, and does not pretend to put it upon you forthe 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, hissneers and ironies incomparable, and his painting excellent. WhenAngelica, 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 forOrlando's lost wits, at the end of the 34th book, and the many lostthings 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 thispoem 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 thecharacters. A parcel of shepherds and shepherdesses, with the TRUEPASTORAL' SIMPLICITY, talk metaphysics, epigrams, 'concetti', andquibbles, 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; butare not quite so sublime and abstracted as those in Pastor Fido. I thinkthat 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 ofhim than I do, would certainly say that he deserved his 'Laura' betterthan his 'Lauro'; and that wretched quibble would be reckoned anexcellent piece of Italian wit. 

The Italian prose-writers (of invention I mean) which I would recommendto your acquaintance, are Machiavello and Boccacio; the former, for theestablished reputation which he has acquired, of a consummate politician(whatever my own private sentiments may be of either his politics or hismorality): the latter, for his great invention, and for his natural andagreeable manner of telling his stories. 

Guicciardini, Bentivoglio, Davila, etc. , are excellent historians, anddeserved being read with attention. The nature of history checks, alittle, the flights of Italian imaginations; which, in works ofinvention, are very high indeed. Translations curb them still more: andtheir translations of the classics are incomparable; particularly thefirst ten, translated in the time of Leo the Tenth, and inscribed to him, under the title of Collana. That original Collana has been lengthenedsince; 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 uponyour guard; and not let your fancy be dazzled and your taste corrupted bythe concetti, the quaintnesses, and false thoughts, which are too muchthe characteristics of the Italian and Spanish authors. I think you arein no great danger, as your taste has been formed upon the best ancientmodels, the Greek and Latin authors of the best ages, who indulgethemselves in none of the puerilities I have hinted at. I think I maysay, with truth; that true wit, sound taste, and good sense, are now, asit were, engrossed by France and England. Your old acquaintances, theGermans, I fear, are a little below them; and your new acquaintances, theItalians, 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 PereBouhours; and I think it is very well worth your reading again, now thatyou can judge of it better. I do not know any book that contributes moreto form a true taste; and you find there, into the bargain, the mostcelebrated passages, both of the ancients and the moderns, which refreshyour memory with what you have formerly read in them separately. It isfollowed 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 giveninto that false taste; they allow no thoughts to be good, that are notjust and founded upon truth. The age of Lewis XIV. Was very like theAugustan; Boileau, Moliere, La Fontaine, Racine, etc. , established thetrue, 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 hasrenewed its attacks, and endeavored to recover its lost empire, both inEngland and France; but without success; though, I must say, with moresuccess in France than in England. Addison, Pope, and Swift, havevigorously defended the rights of good sense, which is more than can besaid of their contemporary French authors, who have of late had a greattendency to 'le faux brillant', 'le raffinement, et l'entortillement'. And Lord Roscommon would be more in the right now, than he was then, insaying 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, yourmanners, your mind, your everything; you have but two years' time to doit 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 wasall your own, I am very well satisfied with the progress which you havemade 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 theFrench Ambassador's, I believe you hear only Italian spoke; for theItalians speak very little French, and that little generally very ill. The French are even with them, and generally speak Italian as ill; for Inever 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 giveyou not only the desire, but the means of speaking to them elegantly intheir own language. The Princess Borghese, I am told, speaks French bothill and unwillingly; and therefore you should make a merit to her of yourapplication to her language. She is, by a kind of prescription (longerthan she would probably wish), at the head of the 'beau monde' at Rome;and can, consequently, establish or destroy a young fellow's fashionablecharacter. If she declares him 'amabile e leggiadro', others will thinkhim so, or at least those who do not will not dare to say so. There arein every great town some such women, whose rank, beauty, and fortune haveconspired to place them at the head of the fashion. They have generallybeen gallant, but within certain decent bounds. Their gallantries havetaught, both them and their admirers, good-breeding; without which theycould keep up no dignity, but would be vilified by those very gallantrieswhich put them in vogue. It is with these women, as with ministers andfavorites at court; they decide upon fashion and characters, as these doof fortunes and preferments. Pay particular court, therefore, whereveryou are, to these female sovereigns of the 'beau monde'; theirrecommendation is a passport through all the realms of politeness. Butthen, remember that they require minute officious attentions. You should, if possible, guess at and anticipate all their little fancies andinclinations; make yourself familiarly and domestically useful to them, by offering yourself for all their little commissions, and assisting indoing the honors of their houses, and entering with seeming unction intoall their little grievances, bustles, and views; for they are alwaysbusy. If you are once 'ben ficcato' at the Palazzo Borghese, you twillsoon 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 yourexterior air and carriage; which, I doubt, are not yet the genteelest inthe world. But you may, and I hope you will, in the meantime, observe theair and carriage of those who are reckoned to have the best, and formyour own upon them. Ease, gracefulness, and dignity, compose the air andaddress of a man of fashion; which is as unlike the affected attitudesand 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 theallotment of your time at Rome. Those five hours every morning, which youemploy in serious studies with Mr. Harte, are laid out with greatinterest, and will make you rich all the rest of your life. I do not lookupon the subsequent morning hours, which you pass with your Ciceroni, tobe ill-disposed of; there is a kind of connection between them; and yourevening diversions in good company are, in their way, as useful andnecessary. This is the way for you to have both weight and lustre in theworld; and this is the object which I always had in view in youreducation. 

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 meanliving with lustre and honor to yourself, with utility to society; doingwhat may deserve to be written, or writing what may deserve to be read; Ishould wish both. Those who consider life in that light, will not idlylavish 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; forthe credit, the dignity, the comfort, and the pleasure of all your futuremoments, 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 inthe same way; but I mean as well in proportion, in the variation of ageand circumstances. You now, study five hours every morning; I neithersuppose that you will, nor desire that you should do so for the rest ofyour life. Both business and pleasure will justly and equally break inupon those hours. But then, will you always employ the leisure they leaveyou in useful studies? If you have but an hour, will you improve thathour, instead of idling it away? While you have such a friend and monitorwith you as Mr. Harte, I am sure you will. But suppose that business andsituations 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 toyourself? May I be sure that you will employ some part of every day, inadding 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 yourown affairs, to keep them in that order and method which every prudentman 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 promotethem I will pay for them; but I will neither pay for, nor suffer, theunbecoming, disgraceful, and degrading pleasures (they should not becalled pleasures), of low and profligate company. I confess the pleasuresof high life are not always strictly philosophical; and I believe a Stoicwould blame, my indulgence; but I am yet no Stoic, though turned offive-and-fifty; and I am apt to think that you are rather less so, ateighteen. The pleasures of the table, among people of the first fashion, may indeed sometimes, by accident, run into excesses: but they will neversink into a continued course of gluttony and drunkenness. The gallantryof high life, though not strictly justifiable, carries, at least, noexternal marks of infamy about it. Neither the heart nor the constitutionis 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 theinteracts of other amusements. 

This, I am sure, is not talking to you like an old man, though it istalking to you like an old friend; these are not hard conditions to askof you. I am certain you have sense enough to know how reasonable theyare on my part, how advantageous they are on yours: but have youresolution enough to perform them? Can you withstand the examples, andthe invitations, of the profligate, and their infamous missionaries? ForI have known many a young fellow seduced by a 'mauvaise honte', that madehim ashamed to refuse. These are resolutions which you must form, andsteadily execute for yourself, whenever you lose the friendly care andassistance 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'smantle from him, before he is taken away himself. 

You seem to like Rome. How do you go on there? Are you got into theinside of that extraordinary government? Has your Abbate Fogginidiscovered many of those mysteries to you? Have you made an acquaintancewith some eminent Jesuits? I know no people in the world moreinstructive. You would do very well to take one or two such sort ofpeople 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, whichshort meetings and snatches at third places do not admit of; and many ofthose gentlemen are by no means unwilling to dine 'gratis'. Whenever youmeet with a man eminent in any way, feed him, and feed upon him at thesame time; it will not only improve you, but give you a reputation ofknowledge, and of loving it in others. 

I have been lately informed of an Italian book, which I believe may be ofuse to you, and which, I dare say, you may get at Rome, written by oneAlberti, about fourscore or a hundred years ago, a thick quarto. It is aclassical description of Italy; from whence, I am assured, that Mr. Addison, to save himself trouble, has taken most of his remarks andclassical references. I am told that it is an excellent book for atraveler in Italy. 

What Italian books have you read, or are you reading? Ariosto. I hope, isone of them. Pray apply yourself diligently to Italian; it is so easy alanguage, that speaking it constantly, and reading it often, must, in sixmonths more, make you perfect master of it: in which case you will neverforget 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 toall that you do, remember to join the Graces. All is imperfect withoutthem; with them everything is at least tolerable. Nothing could hurt memore than to find you unattended by them. How cruelly should I beshocked, if, at our first meeting, you should present yourself to mewithout them! Invoke them, and sacrifice to them every moment; they arealways kind, where they are assiduously courted. For God's sake, aim atperfection 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 heremore than our share of earthquakes; for we had two very strong ones ineight-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 wedo not enjoy. 

I did not think that the present Pope was a sort of man to build sevenmodern little chapels at the expense of so respectable a piece ofantiquity 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 leaveRome; and without hesitation kiss his slipper, or whatever else theetiquette of that Court requires. I would have you see all thoseceremonies; and I presume that you are, by this time, ready enough atItalian to understand and answer 'il Santo Padre' in that language. Ihope, too, that you have acquired address and usage enough of the worldto be presented to anybody, without embarrassment or disapprobation. Ifthat is not yet quite perfect, as I cannot suppose it is entirely, customwill improve it daily, and habit at last complete it. I have for sometime told you, that the great difficulties are pretty well conquered. Youhave acquired knowledge, which is the 'principium et fons'; but you havenow a variety of lesser things to attend to, which collectively make onegreat and important object. You easily guess that I mean the graces, theair, address, politeness, and, in short, the whole 'tournure' and'agremens' of a man of fashion; so many little things conspire to formthat 'tournure', that though separately they seem too insignificant tomention, yet aggregately they are too material for me (who think for youdown to the very lowest things) to omit. For instance, do you useyourself to carve, eat and drink genteelly, and with ease? Do you takecare to walk, sit, stand, and present yourself gracefully? Are yousufficiently upon your guard against awkward attitudes, and illiberal, ill-bred, and disgusting habits, such as scratching yourself, puttingyour fingers in your mouth, nose, and ears? Tricks always acquired atschools, often too much neglected afterward; but, however, extremelyill-bred and nauseous. For I do not conceive that any man has a right toexhibit, in company, any one excrement more than another. Do you dresswell, and think a little of the brillant in your person? That, too, isnecessary, because it is 'prevenant'. Do you aim at easy, engaging, but, at the same time, civil or respectful manners, according to the companyyou are in? These, and a thousand other things, which you will observe inpeople of fashion better than I can describe them, are absolutelynecessary for every man; but still more for you, than for almost any manliving. The showish, the shining, the engaging parts of the character ofa fine gentleman, should (considering your destination) be the principalobjects, of your present attention. 

When you return here, I am apt to think that you will find somethingbetter to do than to run to Mr. Osborne's at Gray's Inn, to pick upscarce books. Buy good books and read them; the best books are thecommonest, and the last editions are always the best, if the editors arenot blockheads, for they may profit of the former. But take care not tounderstand editions and title-pages too well. It always smells ofpedantry, and not always of learning. What curious books I have--they areindeed 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 loseview of the object of your destination: I mean the political affairs ofEurope. Follow them politically, chronologically, and geographically, through the newspapers, and trace up the facts which you meet with thereto their sources: as, for example, consult the treaties Neustadt and Abo, with regard to the disputes, which you read of every day in the publicpapers, between Russia and Sweden. For the affairs of Italy, which arereported to be the objects of present negotiations, recur to thequadruple alliance of the year 1718, and follow them down through theirseveral variations to the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, 1748; in which (bythe bye) you will find the very different tenures by which the Infant DonPhilip, your namesake, holds Parma and Placentia. Consult, also, theEmperor Charles the Sixth's Act of Cession of the kingdoms of Naples andSicily, 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 thesematters; which is carried on with great ease, but if once broken, isresumed with difficulty. 

Pray tell Mr. Harte, that I have sent his packet to Baron Firmian byCount Einsiedlen, who is gone from hence this day for Germany, and passesthrough Vienna in his way to Italy; where he is in hopes of crossing uponyou 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 theeruptions of Mount Vesuvius, and surveying the magnificent churches andpublic buildings, by which Naples is distinguished. 

You have a court there into the bargain, which, I hope, you frequent andattend to. Polite manners, a versatility of mind, a complaisance even toenemies, and the 'volto sciolto', with the 'pensieri stretti', are onlyto be learned at courts, and must be well learned by whoever would eithershine or thrive in them. Though they do not change the nature, theysmooth and soften the manners of mankind. Vigilance, dexterity, andflexibility supply the place of natural force; and it is the ablest mind, not the strongest body that prevails there. Monsieur and Madame Foglianiwill, I am sure, show you all the politeness of courts; for I know nobetter bred people than they are. Domesticate yourself there while youstay at Naples, and lay aside the English coldness and formality. Youhave also a letter to Comte Mahony, whose house I hope you frequent, asit is the resort of the best company. His sister, Madame Bulkeley, is nowhere; and had I known of your going so soon to Naples, I would have gotyou, 'ex abundanti', a letter from her to her brother. The conversationof the moderns in the evening is full as necessary for you, as that ofthe ancients in the morning. 

You would do well, while you are at Naples, to read some very shorthistory of that kingdom. It has had great variety of masters, and hasoccasioned many wars; the general history of which will enable you to askmany proper questions, and to receive useful informations in return. Inquire into the manner and form of that government; for constitution ithas none, being an absolute one; but the most absolute governments havecertain customs and forms, which are more or less observed by theirrespective tyrants. In China it is the fashion for the emperors, absoluteas they are, to govern with justice and equity; as in the other Orientalmonarchies, it is the custom to govern by violence and cruelty. The Kingof France, as absolute, in fact, as any of them, is by custom only moregentle; 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 aconstitution; for the people's rights and liberties are secured by laws;and I cannot reckon Sweden and Poland to be monarchies, those two kingshaving little more to say than the Doge of Venice. I do not presume tosay 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 merather whom you see, than what you see. Inform me of your eveningtransactions and acquaintances; where, and how you pass your evenings;what people of learning you have made acquaintance with; and, if you willtrust me with so important an affair, what belle passion inflames you. Iinterest myself most in what personally concerns you most; and this is avery 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 sicuroch'ella n'e adesso professore, a segno tale ch'io non ardisca dirle altracosa 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 periodwill, one way or another, be of infinite consequence to you, my letterswill henceforward be principally calculated for that meridian. You willbe left there to your own discretion, instead of Mr. Harte's, and youwill allow me, I am sure, to distrust a little the discretion ofeighteen. You will find in the Academy a number of young fellows muchless discreet than yourself. These will all be your acquaintances; butlook 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 adistinguishing attention; by which means you will get into theirrespective houses, and keep the best company. All those French youngfellows are excessively 'etourdis'; be upon your guard against scrapesand quarrels; have no corporal pleasantries with them, no 'jeux demains', no 'coups de chambriere', which frequently bring on quarrels. Beas lively as they, if you please, but at the same time be a little wiserthan they. As to letters, you will find most of them ignorant; do notreproach 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 theother, hand, do not allow their ignorance and idleness to break in uponthose 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 readtwo or three hours in the morning, and that for the rest of the day youare very much at their service. Though, by the way, I hope you will keepwiser company in the evenings. 

I must insist upon your never going to what is called the Englishcoffee-house at Paris, which is the resort of all the scrub English, andalso of the fugitive and attainted Scotch and Irish; party quarrels anddrunken squabbles are very frequent there; and I do not know a moredegrading place in all Paris. Coffee-houses and taverns are by no meanscreditable at Paris. Be cautiously upon your guard against the infinitenumber of fine-dressed and fine-spoken 'chevaliers d'industrie' and'avanturiers' which swarm at Paris: and keep everybody civilly at arm'slength, of whose real character or rank you are not previously informed. Monsieur le Comte or Monsieur le Chevalier, in a handsome laced coat, 'ettres bien mis', accosts you at the play, or some other public place; heconceives at first sight an infinite regard for you: he sees that you area stranger of the first distinction; he offers you his services, andwishes nothing more ardently than to contribute, as far as may be in hislittle power, to procure you 'les agremens de Paris'. He is acquaintedwith some ladies of condition, 'qui prefrent une petite societe agreable, et des petits soupers aimables d'honnetes gens, au tumulte et a ladissipation de Paris'; and he will with the greatest pleasure imaginablehave the honor of introducing you to those ladies of quality. Well, ifyou 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 tarnishedsilver or gold second-hand robe, playing a sham party at cards forlivres, with three or four sharpers well dressed enough, and dignified bythe titles of Marquis, Comte, and Chevalier. The lady receives you in themost polite and gracious manner, and with all those 'complimens deroutine' which every French woman has equally. Though she lovesretirement, and shuns 'le grande monde', yet she confesses herselfobliged to the Marquis for having procured her so inestimable, soaccomplished an acquaintance as yourself; but her concern is how to amuseyou: for she never suffers play at her house for above a livre; if youcan amuse yourself with that low play till supper, 'a la bonne heure'. Accordingly you sit down to that little play, at which the good companytakes care that you shall win fifteen or sixteen livres, which gives theman 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 beingable to pay for it. 'La Marquise en fait les honneurs au mieux, talkssentiments, 'moeurs et morale', interlarded with 'enjouement', andaccompanied with some oblique ogles, which bid you not despair in time. After supper, pharaoh, lansquenet, or quinze, happen accidentally to bementioned: the Marquise exclaims against it, and vows she will not sufferit, but is at last prevailed upon by being assured 'que ce ne sera quepour des riens'. Then the wished-for moment is come, the operationbegins: you are cheated, at best, of all the money in your pocket, and ifyou stay late, very probably robbed of your watch and snuff-box, possiblymurdered for greater security. This I can assure you, is not anexaggerated, but a literal description of what happens every day to someraw and inexperienced stranger at Paris. Remember to receive all thesecivil gentlemen, who take such a fancy to you at first sight, verycoldly, and take care always to be previously engaged, whatever partythey propose to you. You may happen sometimes, in very great and goodcompanies, to meet with some dexterous gentlemen, who may be verydesirous, and also very sure, to win your money, if they can but engageyou to play with them. Therefore lay it down as an invariable rule neverto play with men, but only with women of fashion, at low play, or withwomen and men mixed. But, at the same time, whenever you are asked toplay deeper than you would, do not refuse it gravely and sententiously, alleging the folly of staking what would be very inconvenient to one tolose, against what one does not want to win; but parry those invitationsludicrously, 'et en badinant'. Say that, if you were sure to lose, youmight possibly play, but that as you may as well win, you dread'l'embarras des richesses', ever since you have seen what an encumbrancethey were to poor Harlequin, and that, therefore, you are determinednever to venture the winning above two louis a-day; this sort of lighttrifling way of declining invitations to vice and folly, is more becomingyour age, and at the same time more effectual, than grave philosophicalrefusals. A young fellow who seems to have no will of his own, and whodoes everything that is asked of him, is called a very good-natured, butat the same time, is thought a very silly young fellow. Act wisely, uponsolid principles, and from true motives, but keep them to yourself, andnever talk sententiously. When you are invited to drink, say that youwish you could, but that so little makes you both drunk and sick, 'que lejeu me vaut pas la chandelle'. 

Pray show great attention, and make your court to Monsieur de laGueriniere; he is well with Prince Charles and many people of the firstdistinction at Paris; his commendations will raise your character there, not to mention that his favor will be of use to you in the Academyitself. For the reasons which I mentioned to you in my last, I would haveyou be interne in the Academy for the first six months; but after that, Ipromise you that you shall have lodgings of your own 'dans un hotelgarni', if in the meantime I hear well of you, and that you frequent, andare esteemed in the best French companies. You want nothing now, thankGod, 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 notwant opportunities, for I shall send you letters that will establish youin the most distinguished companies, not only of the beau monde, but ofthe beaux esprits, too. Dedicate, therefore, I beg of you, that wholeyear to your own advantage and final improvement, and do not be divertedfrom those objects by idle dissipations, low seduction, or bad example. After that year, do whatever you please; I will interfere no longer inyour 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 ofpanegyric, told me in his last a thing that pleases me extremely; whichwas that at Rome you had constantly preferred the established Italianassemblies to the English conventicles setup against them by dissentingEnglish ladies. That shows sense, and that you know what you are sentabroad for. It is of much more consequence to know the 'mores multoremhominum' than the 'urbes'. Pray continue this judicious conduct whereveryou go, especially at Paris, where, instead of thirty, you will findabove three hundred English, herding together and conversing with no oneFrench body. 

The life of 'les Milords Anglois' is regularly, or, if you will, irregularly, this. As soon as they rise, which is very late, theybreakfast together, to the utter loss of two good morning hours. Thenthey go by coachfuls to the Palais, the Invalides, and Notre-Dame; fromthence to the English coffee-house, where they make up their tavern partyfor dinner. From dinner, where they drink quick, they adjourn in clustersto the play, where they crowd up the stage, dressed up in very fineclothes, very ill-made by a Scotch or Irish tailor. From the play to thetavern again, where they get very drunk, and where they either quarrelamong themselves, or sally forth, commit some riot in the streets, andare 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 theirIrish laundress, unless by chance some itinerant Englishwoman, elopedfrom her husband, or her creditors, defrauds her of them. Thus theyreturn home, more petulant, but not more informed, than when they leftit; and show, as they think, their improvement by affectedly bothspeaking 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; conformcheerfully to their customs, even to their little follies, but not totheir vices. Do not, however, remonstrate or preach against them, forremonstrances do not suit with your age. In French companies in generalyou will not find much learning, therefore take care not to brandishyours in their faces. People hate those who make them feel their owninferiority. Conceal all your learning carefully, and reserve it for thecompany of les Gens d'Eglise, or les Gens de Robe; and even then let themrather extort it from you, than find you over-willing to draw it. Yourare then thought, from that seeming unwillingness, to have still moreknowledge than it may be you really have, and with the additional meritof 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 thanhe has, and his reputation of discretion gets him others. It is just sowith a man of learning; if he affects to show it, it is questioned, andhe is reckoned only superficial; but if afterward it appears that hereally has it, he is pronounced a pedant. Real merit of any kind, 'ubiest non potest diu celari'; it will be discovered, and nothing candepreciate it but a man's exhibiting it himself. It may not always berewarded as it ought, but it will always be known. You will in generalfind 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 orthirteen years old; but then that sort of education, which makes themignorant of books, gives them a great knowledge of the world, an easyaddress, 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 greatdeal. The least revolt against it is punished by proscription. You mustobserve, and conform to all the 'minutiae' of it, if you will be infashion 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 uponthat shining theatre only as a 'persona muta', persist, persevere, andyou will soon have a part given you. Take great care never to tell in onecompany what you see or hear in another, much less to divert the presentcompany at the expense of the last; but let discretion and secrecy beknown parts of your character. They will carry you much further, and muchsafer than more shining talents. Be upon your guard against quarrels atParis; honor is extremely nice there, though the asserting of it isexceedingly penal. Therefore, 'point de mauvaises plaisanteries, point dejeux de main, et point de raillerie piquante'. 

Paris is the place in the world where, if you please, you may the bestunite the 'utile' and the 'dulce'. Even your pleasures will be yourimprovements, if you take them with the people of the place, and in highlife. From what you have hitherto done everywhere else, I have justreason to believe, that you will do everything that you ought at Paris. Remember that it is your decisive moment; whatever you do there will beknown to thousands here, and your character there, whatever it is, willget before you here. You will meet with it at London. May you and I bothhave 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, ismistaking the object, and setting out wrong in the pursuit. The characterof a man of pleasure dazzles young eyes; they do not see their way to itdistinctly, and fall into vice and profligacy. I remember a stronginstance of this a great many years ago. A young fellow, determined toshine as a man of pleasure, was at the play called the "LibertineDestroyed, " a translation of 'Le Festin de Pierre' of Molieire's. He wasso struck with what he thought the fine character of the libertine, thathe 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 anunfortunate young fellow, who, captivated by the name of pleasures, rushes indiscriminately, and without taste, into them all, and is finallyDESTROYED. I am not stoically advising, nor parsonically preaching to youto be a Stoic at your age; far from it: I am pointing out to you thepaths to pleasures, and am endeavoring only to quicken and heighten themfor you. Enjoy pleasures, but let them be your own, and then you willtaste them; but adopt none; trust to nature for genuine ones. Thepleasures that you would feel you must earn; the man who gives himself upto all, feels none sensibly. Sardanapalus, I am convinced, never felt anyin his life. Those only who join serious occupations with pleasures, feeleither as they should do. Alcibiades, though addicted to the mostshameful excesses, gave some time to philosophy, and some to business. Julius Caesar joined business with pleasure so properly, that theymutually assisted each other; and though he was the husband of all thewives at Rome, he found time to be one of the best scholars, almost thebest orator, and absolutely the best general there. An uninterrupted lifeof pleasures is as insipid as contemptible. Some hours given every day toserious business must whet both the mind and the senses, to enjoy thoseof pleasure. A surfeited glutton, an emaciated sot, and an enervatedrotten whoremaster, never enjoy the pleasures to which they devotethemselves; but they are only so many human sacrifices to false gods. Thepleasures of low life are all of this mistaken, merely sensual, anddisgraceful nature; whereas, those of high life, and in good company(though possibly in themselves not more moral) are more delicate, morerefined, less dangerous, and less disgraceful; and, in the common courseof 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 maybe, and is, his relief, his reward. It is particularly so with regard tothe women; who have the utmost contempt for those men, that, having nocharacter nor consideration with their own sex, frivolously pass theirwhole time in 'ruelles' and at 'toilettes'. They look upon them as theirlumber, and remove them whenever they can get better furniture. Womenchoose their favorites more by the ear than by any other of their sensesor even their understandings. The man whom they hear the most commendedby the men, will always be the best received by them. Such a conquestflatters their vanity, and vanity is their universal, if not theirstrongest passion. A distinguished shining character is irresistible withthem; they crowd to, nay, they even quarrel for the danger in hopes ofthe triumph. Though, by the way (to use a vulgar expression), she whoconquers only catches a Tartar, and becomes the slave of her captive. 'Mais c'est la leur affaire'. Divide your time between useful occupationsand elegant pleasures. The morning seems to belong to study, business, orserious conversations with men of learning and figure; not that I excludean occasional hour at a toilette. From sitting down to dinner, the properbusiness of the day is pleasure, unless real business, which must neverbe postponed for pleasure, happens accidentally to interfere. In goodcompany, the pleasures of the table are always carried to a certain pointof delicacy and gratification, but never to excess and riot. Plays, operas, balls, suppers, gay conversations in polite and cheerfulcompanies, properly conclude the evenings; not to mention the tenderlooks that you may direct and the sighs that you may offer, upon theseseveral occasions, to some propitious or unpropitious female deity, whosecharacter and manners will neither disgrace nor corrupt yours. This isthe life of a man of real sense and pleasure; and by this distribution ofyour time, and choice of your pleasures, you will be equally qualifiedfor the busy, or the 'beau monde'. You see I am not rigid, and do notrequire 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 afather. But low company, and their low vices, their indecent riots andprofligacy, I never will bear nor forgive. 

I have lately received two volumes of treaties, in German and Latin, fromHawkins, with your orders, under your own hand, to take care of them foryou, which orders I shall most dutifully and punctually obey, and theywait for you in my library, together with your great collection of rarebooks, 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 beof great use to you when you cone into business; and the more so, as youwill be almost the only Englishman who either can speak or understand it. Pray speak it constantly to all Germans, wherever you meet them, and youwill meet multitudes of them at Paris. Is Italian now become easy andfamiliar to you? Can you speak it with the same fluency that you canspeak German? You cannot conceive what an advantage it will give you innegotiations to possess Italian, German, and French perfectly, so as tounderstand all the force and finesse of those three languages. If two menof equal talents negotiate together, he who best understands the languagein which the negotiation is carried on, will infallibly get the better ofthe other. The signification and force of one single word is often ofgreat 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 setup for yourself; that approaching moment is a critical one for you, andan anxious one for me. A tradesman who would succeed in his way, mustbegin by establishing a character of integrity and good manners; withoutthe former, nobody will go to his shop at all; without the latter, nobodywill 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. Hemay avail himself of the humor, the whims, and the fantastical tastes ofhis customers; but what he warrants to be good must be really so, what heseriously asserts must be true, or his first fraudulent profits will soonend in a bankruptcy. It is the same in higher life, and in the greatbusiness of the world. A man who does not solidly establish, and reallydeserve, a character of truth, probity, good manners, and good morals, athis first setting out in the world, may impose, and shine like a meteorfor a very short time, but will very soon vanish, and be extinguishedwith contempt. People easily pardon, in young men, the commonirregularities of the senses: but they do not forgive the least vice ofthe 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 willonly 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 thecase), really reform in a more advanced age, from a consciousness of itsfolly, as well as of its guilt; such a conversion would only be thoughtprudential and political, but never sincere. I hope in God, and I verily. Believe, that you want no moral virtue. But the possession of all themoral virtues, in 'actu primo', as the logicians call it, is notsufficient; you must have them in 'actu secundo' too; nay, that is notsufficient neither--you must have the reputation of them also. Yourcharacter in the world must be built upon that solid foundation, or itwill soon fall, and upon your own head. You cannot, therefore, be toocareful, too nice, too scrupulous, in establishing this character atfirst, upon which your whole depends. Let no conversation, no example, nofashion, no 'bon mot', no silly desire of seeming to be above, what mostknaves, and many fools, call prejudices, ever tempt you to avow, excuse, extenuate, or laugh at the least breach of morality; but show upon alloccasions, and take all occasions to show, a detestation and abhorrenceof it. There, though young, you ought to be strict; and there only, whileyoung, it becomes you to be strict and severe. But there, too, spare thepersons 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 ofyouth, flowing from high spirits and warm blood. It would ill become you, at your age, to declaim against them, and sententiously censure agallantry, an accidental excess of the table, a frolic, an inadvertency;no, keep as free from them yourself as you can: but say nothing againstthem in others. They certainly mend by time, often by reason; and a man'sworldly character is not affected by them, provided it be pure in allother respects. 

To come now to a point of much less, but yet of very great consequence atyour first setting out. Be extremely upon your guard against vanity, thecommon failing of inexperienced youth; but particularly against that kindof vanity that dubs a man a coxcomb; a character which, once acquired, ismore indelible than that of the priesthood. It is not to be imagined byhow many different ways vanity defeats its own purposes. One man decidesperemptorily upon every subject, betrays his ignorance upon many, andshows a disgusting presumption upon the rest. Another desires to appearsuccessful among the women; he hints at the encouragement he hasreceived, from those of the most distinguished rank and beauty, andintimates a particular connection with some one; if it is true, it isungenerous; if false, it is infamous: but in either case he destroys thereputation he wants to get. Some flatter their vanity by littleextraneous objects, which have not the least relation to themselves; suchas being descended from, related to, or acquainted with, people ofdistinguished merit and eminent characters. They talk perpetually oftheir grandfather such-a-one, their uncle such-a-one, and their intimatefriend 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 theythe more merit for those accidents? Certainly not. On the contrary, theirtaking up adventitious, proves their want of intrinsic merit; a rich mannever borrows. Take this rule for granted, as a never-failing one: Thatyou must never seem to affect the character in which you have a mind toshine. Modesty is the only sure bait when you angle for praise. Theaffectation 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. Bythis modesty I do not mean timidity and awkward bashfulness. On thecontrary, be inwardly firm and steady, know your own value whatever itmay be, and act upon that principle; but take great care to let nobodydiscover that you do know your own value. Whatever real merit you have, other people will discover, and people always magnify their owndiscoveries, 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 theobservations that you have yourself made upon mankind, compare andconnect them with my instructions, and then act systematically andconsequentially from them; not 'au jour la journee'. Lay your little plannow, which you will hereafter extend and improve by your ownobservations, and by the advice of those who can never mean to misleadyou; 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. , fromNaples, 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 poorand frivolous excuse, when anything curious is talked of that one hasseen, to say, I SAW IT, BUT REALLY I DID NOT MUCH MIND IT. Why did theygo to see it, if they would not mind it? or why not mind it when they sawit? Now that you are at Naples, you pass part of your time there 'enhonnete homme, da garbato cavaliere', in the court and the bestcompanies. I am told that strangers are received with the utmosthospitality at Prince-------'s, 'que lui il fait bonne chere, et queMadame la Princesse donne chere entire; mais que sa chair est plus quehazardee ou mortifiee meme'; which in plain English means, that she isnot 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 youngfellow should be so; especially abroad, where fine clothes are sogenerally the fashion. Next to their being fine, they should be wellmade, 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 asif it were a plain one. 

I thank you for your drawing, which I am impatient to see, and which Ishall hang up in a new gallery that I am building at Blackheath, and veryfond of; but I am still more impatient for another copy, which I wonder Ihave 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 thedimensions of the drawing after Dominichino, which you say is about eightfeet high; and I take you, as well as myself, to be of the family of thePiccolomini. Mr. Bathurst tells me that he thinks you rather taller thanI 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. Intruth, what do I not wish you, that has a tendency to perfection? I say atendency only, for absolute perfection is not in human nature, so that itwould be idle to wish it. But I am very willing to compound for yourcoming nearer to perfection than the generality of your contemporaries:without a compliment to you, I think you bid fair for that. Mr. Harteaffirms (and if it were consistent with his character would, I believe, swear) that you have no vices of the heart; you have undoubtedly a stockof both ancient and modern learning, which I will venture to say nobodyof your age has, and which must now daily increase, do what you will. What, then, do you want toward that practicable degree of perfectionwhich I wish you? Nothing but the knowledge, the turn, and the manners ofthe world; I mean the 'beau monde'. These it is impossible that you canyet 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 amind 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 generallyconverses with are. He catches their air, their manners, and even theirway 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 knownothing in the world but poetry that is not to be acquired by applicationand care. The sum total of this is a very comfortable one for you, as itplainly amounts to this in your favor, that you now want nothing but whateven your pleasures, if they are liberal ones, will teach you. Icongratulate both you and myself upon your being in such a situation, that, excepting your exercises, nothing is now wanting but pleasures tocomplete you. Take them, but (as I am sure you will) with people of thefirst fashion, whereever you are, and the business is done; yourexercises at Paris, which I am sure you will attend to, will supple andfashion your body; and the company you will keep there will, with somedegree of observation on your part, soon give you their air, address, manners, in short, 'le ton de la bonne compagnie'. Let not theseconsiderations, however, make you vain: they are only between you and mebut as they are very comfortable ones, they may justly give you a manlyassurance, a firmness, a steadiness, without which a man can neither bewell-bred, or in any light appear to advantage, or really what he is. They may justly remove all, timidity, awkward bashfulness, low diffidenceof one's self, and mean abject complaisance to every or anybody'sopinion. La Bruyere says, very truly, 'on ne vaut dans ce monde, que ceque l'on veut valoir'. It is a right principle to proceed upon in theworld, taking care only to guard against the appearances and outwardsymptoms of vanity. Your whole then, you see, turns upon the company youkeep 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 differentsorts of people, as 'beaux esprils, savants, et belles dames'. These, ifyou will frequent them, will form you, not only by their examples, advice, and admonitions in private, as I have desired them to do; andconsequently add to what you have the only one thing now needful. 

Pray tell me what Italian books you have read, and whether that languageis now become familiar to you. 

Read Ariosto and Tasso through, and then you will have read all theItalian poets who in my opinion are worth reading. In all events, whenyou get to Paris, take a good Italian master to read Italian with youthree times a week; not only to keep what you have already, which youwould otherwise forget, but also to perfect you in the rest. It is agreat pleasure, as well as a great advantage, to be able to speak topeople of all nations, and well, in their own language. Aim at perfectionin everything, though in most things it is unattainable; however, theywho aim at it, and persevere, will come much nearer it, than those whoselaziness and despondency make them give it up as unattainable. 'Magnistamen excidit ausis' is a degree of praise which will always attend anoble and shining temerity, and a much better sign in a young fellow, than 'serpere humi, tutus nimium timidusque procellae'. For men as wellas 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 notan equal chance for it; he will be discouraged, put by, or trampled upon. But to succeed, a man, especially a young one, should have inwardfirmness, steadiness, and intrepidity, with exterior modesty and SEEMINGdiffidence. He must modestly, but resolutely, assert his own rights andprivileges. 'Suaviter in modo', but 'fortiter in re'. He should have anapparent frankness and openness, but with inward caution and closeness. All these things will come to you by frequenting and observing goodcompany. And by good company, I mean that sort of company which is calledgood company by everybody of that place. When all this is over, we shallmeet; and then we will talk over, tete-a-tete, the various littlefinishing strokes which conversation and, acquaintance occasionallysuggest, 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, mydear! 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 waitedfor with impatience: I wanted to see your countenance from whence I amvery apt, as I believe most people are, to form some general opinion ofthe 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 drawgood conclusions from your countenance, which has both spirit and finessein it. In bulk you are pretty well increased since I saw you; if yourheight has not increased in proportion, I desire that you will make hasteto, complete it. Seriously, I believe that your exercises at Paris willmake you shoot up to a good size; your legs, by all accounts, seem topromise it. Dancing excepted, the wholesome part is the best part ofthose academical exercises. 'Ils degraissent leur homme'. 

'A propos' of exercises, I have prepared everything for your reception atMonsieur de la Gueriniere's, and your room, etc. , will be ready at yourarrival. I am sure you must be sensible how much better it will be foryou to be interne in the Academy for the first six or seven months atleast, than to be 'en hotel garni', at some distance from it, and obligedto go to it every morning, let the weather be what it will, not tomention the loss of time too; besides, by living and boarding in theAcademy, you will make an acquaintance with half the young fellows offashion at Paris; and in a very little while be looked upon as one ofthem in all French companies: an advantage that has never yet happened toany one Englishman that I have known. I am sure you do not suppose thatthe difference of the expense, which is but a trifle, has any weight withme in this resolution. You have the French language so perfectly, and youwill acquire the French 'tournure' so soon, that I do not know anybodylikely to pass their time so well at Paris as yourself. Our youngcountrymen have generally too little French, and too bad address, eitherto 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 havingever been suspected of a gallantry with a French woman of condition, though every French woman of condition is more than suspected of having agallantry. But they take up with the disgraceful and dangerous commerceof 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, asnecessary 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 dangerto a commerce (in the course of the world not disgraceful) with a womanof health, education, and rank. Nothing sinks a young man into lowcompany, both of women and men, so surely as timidity and diffidence ofhimself. If he thinks that he shall not, he may depend upon it he willnot please. But with proper endeavors to please, and a degree ofpersuasion that he shall, it is almost certain that he will. How manypeople does one meet with everywhere, who, with very moderate parts, andvery little knowledge, push themselves pretty far, simply by beingsanguine, enterprising, and persevering? They will take no denial fromman or woman; difficulties do not discourage them; repulsed twice orthrice, they rally, they charge again, and nine times in ten prevail atlast. The same means will much sooner, and, more certainly, attain thesame ends, with your parts and knowledge. You have a fund to be sanguineupon, and good forces to rally. In business (talents supposed) nothing ismore effectual or successful, than a good, though concealed opinion ofone's self, a firm resolution, and an unwearied perseverance. None butmadmen attempt impossibilities; and whatever is possible, is one way oranother to be brought about. If one method fails, try another, and suityour methods to the characters you have to do with. At the treaty of thePyrenees, which Cardinal Mazarin and Don Louis de Haro concluded, 'dansl'Isle des Faisans', the latter carried some very important points by hisconstant and cool perseverance. 

The Cardinal had all the Italian vivacity and impatience; Don Louis allthe Spanish phlegm and tenaciousness. The point which the Cardinal hadmost 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 toreturn to Court, where absence is always dangerous. Don Louis observedthis, and never failed at every conference to bring the affair of thePrince of Conde upon the tapis. The Cardinal for some time refused evento treat upon it. Don Louis, with the same 'sang froid', as constantlypersisted, till he at last prevailed: contrary to the intentions and theinterest both of the Cardinal and of his Court. Sense must distinguishbetween what is impossible, and what is only difficult; and spirit andperseverance will get the better of the latter. Every man is to be hadone way or another, and every woman almost any way. I must not omit onething, which is previously necessary to this, and, indeed, to everythingelse; which is attention, a flexibility of attention; never to be whollyengrossed by any past or future object, but instantly directed to thepresent one, be it what it will. An absent man can make but fewobservations; and those will be disjointed and imperfect ones, as halfthe circumstance must necessarily escape him. He can pursue nothingsteadily, because his absences make him lose his way. They are verydisagreeable, and hardly to be tolerated in old age; but in youth theycannot 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 ifyou let them grow into habit, you will find it very difficult to curethem hereafter, and a worse distemper I do not know. 

I heard with great satisfaction the other day, from one who has beenlately at Rome, that nobody was better received in the best companiesthan 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 tothem, 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 payfor a very good reception. Were I in Africa, I would pay it to a negrofor his goodwill. Adieu. 

LETTER CXVI

LONDON, June 11, O. S. 1750

MY DEAR FRIEND: The President Montesquieu (whom you will be acquaintedwith at Paris), after having laid down in his book, 'De l'Esprit desLois', the nature and principles of the three different kinds ofgovernment, viz, the democratical, the monarchical, and the despotic, treats of the education necessary for each respective form. His chapterupon the education proper for the monarchical I thought worthtranscribing and sending to you. You will observe that the monarchy whichhe has in his eye is France:--

"In monarchies, the principal branch of education is not taught incolleges or academies. It commences, in some measure, at our setting outin the world; for this is the school of what we call honor, thatuniversal preceptor, which ought everywhere to be our guide. 

"Here it is that we constantly hear three rules or maxims, viz: That weshould have a certain nobleness in our virtues, a kind of frankness inour morals, and a particular politeness in our behavior. 

"The virtues we are here taught, are less what we owe to others, than toourselves; they are not so much what draws us toward society, as whatdistinguishes us from our fellow-citizens. 

"Here the actions of men are judged, not as virtuous, but as shining; notas just, but as great; not as reasonable, but as extraordinary. 

"When honor here meets with anything noble in our actions, it is either ajudge 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 sostrict a purity of morals in monarchies as in republican governments. 

"It allows of cunning and craft, when joined with the notion of greatnessof soul or importance of affairs; as, for instance, in politics, withwhose finenesses it is far from being offended. 

"It does not forbid adulation, but when separate from the idea of a largefortune, and connected only with the sense of our mean condition. 

"With regard to morals, I have observed, that the education of monarchiesought to admit of a certain frankness and open carriage. Truth, therefore, in conversation, is here a necessary point. But is it for thesake of truth. By no means. Truth is requisite only, because a personhabituated to veracity has an air of boldness and freedom. And, indeed, aman 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 andsimplicity for its object. 

"In fine, the education of monarchies requires a certain politeness ofbehavior. Man, a sociable animal, is formed to please in society; and aperson that would break through the rules of decency, so as to shockthose he conversed with, would lose the public esteem, and becomeincapable of doing any good. 

"But politeness, generally speaking, does not derive its original from sopure a source. It arises from a desire of distinguishing ourselves. It ispride that renders us polite; we are flattered with being taken notice offor a behavior that shows we are not of a mean condition, and that wehave not been bred up with those who in all ages are considered as thescum of the people. 

"Politeness, in monarchies, is naturalized at court. One man excessivelygreat renders everybody else little. Hence that regard which is paid toour fellow-subjects; hence that politeness, equally pleasing to those bywhom, as to those toward whom, it is practiced; because it gives peopleto understand that a person actually belongs, or at least deserves tobelong, to the court. 

"A court air consists in quitting a real for a borrowed greatness. Thelatter pleases the courtier more than the former. It inspires him with acertain disdainful modesty, which shows itself externally, but whosepride insensibly diminishes in proportion to his distance from the sourceof this greatness. 

"At court we find a delicacy of taste in everything; a delicacy arisingfrom the constant use of the superfluities of life; from the variety, andespecially the satiety of pleasures; from the multiplicity and evenconfusion of fancies, which, if they are not agreeable, are sure of beingwell received. 

"These are the things which properly fall within the province ofeducation, in order to form what we call a man of honor, a man possessedof all the qualities and virtues requisite in this kind of government. 

"Here it is that honor interferes with everything, mixing even withpeople's manner of thinking, and directing their very principles. 

"To this whimsical honor it is owing that the virtues are only just whatit pleases; it adds rules of its own invention to everything prescribedto 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, byreligion, and honor, as submission to the Prince's will, but this veryhonor tells us, that the Prince never ought to command a dishonorableaction, because this would render us incapable of serving him. 

"Crillon refused to assassinate the Duke of Guise, but offered to fighthim. After the massacre of St. Bartholomew, Charles IX. , having sentorders to the governors in the several provinces for the Huguenots to bemurdered, Viscount Dorte, who commanded at Bayonne, wrote thus to theKing: 'Sire, Among the inhabitants of this town, and your Majesty'stroops, I could not find so much as one executioner; they are honestcitizens and brave soldiers. We jointly, therefore, beseech your Majestyto command our arms and lives in things that are practicable. ' This greatand 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 istheir favorite profession, because its dangers, its success, and even itsmiscarriages, are the road to grandeur. Yet this very law, of its ownmaking, honor chooses to explain; and in case of any affront, it requiresor permits us to retire. 

"It insists also, that we should be at liberty either to seek or toreject employments; a liberty which it prefers even to an ample fortune. 

"Honor, therefore, has its supreme laws, to which education is obliged toconform. The chief of these are, that we are permitted to set a valueupon 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, weshould never do or permit anything which may seem to imply that we lookupon ourselves as inferior to the rank we hold. 

"The third is, that those things which honor forbids are more rigorouslyforbidden, when the laws do not concur in the prohibition; and those itcommands are more strongly insisted upon, when they happen not to becommanded by law. "

Though our government differs considerably from the French, inasmuch aswe have fixed laws and constitutional barriers for the security of ourliberties and properties, yet the President's observations hold prettynear as true in England as in France. Though monarchies may differ a gooddeal, kings differ very little. Those who are absolute desire to continueso, and those who are not, endeavor to become so; hence the same maximsand manners almost in all courts: voluptuousness and profusionencouraged, the one to sink the people into indolence, the other intopoverty--consequently into dependence. The court is called the world hereas well as at Paris; and nothing more is meant by saying that a man knowsthe world, than that he knows courts. In all courts you must expect tomeet with connections without friendship, enmities without hatred, honorwithout virtue, appearances saved, and realities sacrificed; good mannerswith bad morals; and all vice and virtues so disguised, that whoever hasonly reasoned upon both would know neither when he first met them atcourt. It is well that you should know the map of that country, that whenyou come to travel in it, you may do it with greater safety. 

From all this you will of yourself draw this obvious conclusion: That youare in truth but now going to the great and important school, the world;to which Westminster and Leipsig were only the little preparatoryschools, as Marylebone, Windsor, etc. , are to them. What you have alreadyacquired 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 intothe shell, you have very different things to learn from Latin and Greek:and which require much more sagacity and attention than those two deadlanguages; the language of pure and simple nature; the language of naturevariously modified and corrupted by passions, prejudices, and habits; thelanguage of simulation and dissimulation: very hard, but very necessaryto decipher. Homer has not half so many, nor so difficult dialects, asthe great book of the school you are now going to. Observe, therefore, progressively, and with the greatest attention, what the best scholars inthe form immediately above you do, and so on, until you get into theshell 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 newswritersliterally, who never yet inserted any one thing quite right. I have bothhis patent and his mandamus, in both which he is Walter, let thenewspapers 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 defectwhich 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 yourfriends; or whom, according to the common notions of friendship, you maypossibly think such, will never tell you of your faults, still less ofyour weaknesses. But, on the contrary, more desirous to make you theirfriend, than to prove themselves yours, they will flatter both, and, intruth, not be sorry for either. Interiorly, most people enjoy theinferiority of their best friends. The useful and essential part offriendship, to you, is reserved singly for Mr. Harte and myself: ourrelations to you stand pure and unsuspected of all private views. Inwhatever we say to you, we can have no interest but yours. We aretherefore authorized to represent, advise, and remonstrate; and yourreason must tell you that you ought to attend to and believe us. 

I am credibly informed, that there is still a considerable hitch orhobble in your enunciation; and that when you speak fast you sometimesspeak unintelligibly. I have formerly and frequently laid my thoughtsbefore you so fully upon this subject, that I can say nothing new upon itnow. I must therefore only repeat, that your whole depends upon it. Yourtrade is to speak well, both in public and in private. The manner of yourspeaking is full as important as the matter, as more people have ears tobe tickled, than understandings to judge. Be your productions ever sogood, they will be of no use, if you stifle and strangle them in theirbirth. The best compositions of Corelli, if ill executed and played outof tune, instead of touching, as they do when well performed, would onlyexcite the indignation of the hearer's, when murdered by an unskillfulperformer. But to murder your own productions, and that 'coram Populo', is a MEDEAN CRUELTY, which Horace absolutely forbids. Remember of whatimportance Demosthenes, and one of the Gracchi, thought ENUNCIATION; andread what stress Cicero and Quintilian lay upon it; even the herb-womenat Athens were correct judges of it. Oratory, with all its graces, thatof enunciation in particular, is full as necessary in our government asit ever was in Greece or Rome. No man can make a fortune or a figure inthis country, without speaking, and speaking well in public. If you willpersuade, you must first please; and if you will please, you must tuneyour voice to harmony, you must articulate every syllable distinctly, your emphasis and cadences must be strongly and properly marked; and thewhole together must be graceful and engaging: If you do not speak in thatmanner, 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 comfortand an amusement to you in your closet, but can be of no use to you inthe world. Let me conjure you, therefore, to make this your only object, till you have absolutely conquered it, for that is in your power; thinkof nothing else, read and speak for nothing else. Read aloud, thoughalone, and read articulately and distinctly, as if you were reading inpublic, and on the most important occasion. Recite pieces of eloquence, declaim scenes of tragedies to Mr. Harte, as if he were a numerousaudience. If there is any particular consonant which you have adifficulty in articulating, as I think you had with the R, utter itmillions and millions of times, till you have uttered it right. Neverspeak quick, till you have first learned to speak well. In short, layaside every book, and every thought, that does not directly tend to thisgreat 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 sorryto 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 alady's pocket-book. But that fault is easily cured by care, since everyman, who has the use of his eyes and of his right hand, can writewhatever hand he pleases. As to the correctness and elegance of yourwriting, attention to grammar does the one, and to the best authors theother. In your letter to me of the 27th June, N. S. , you omitted the dateof the place, so that I only conjectured from the contents that you wereat Rome. 

Thus I have, with the truth and freedom of the tenderest affection, toldyou all your defects, at least all that I know or have heard of. ThankGod, they are all very curable; they must be cured, and I am sure, youwill cure them. That once done, nothing remains for you to acquire, orfor me to wish you, but the turn, the manners, the address, and theGRACES, of the polite world; which experience, observation, and goodcompany; 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 asyourself to what I call perfection, by which I only, mean being very nearas well as the best. Far, therefore, from being discouraged by what youstill want, what you already have should encourage you to attempt, andconvince you that by attempting you will inevitably obtain it. Thedifficulties which you have surmounted were much greater than any youhave now to encounter. Till very lately, your way has been only throughthorns and briars; the few that now remain are mixed with roses. Pleasureis now the principal remaining part of your education. It will soften andpolish your manners; it will make you pursue and at last overtake theGRACES. Pleasure is necessarily reciprocal; no one feels, who does not atthe same time give it. To be pleased one must please. What pleases you inothers, will in general please them in you. Paris is indisputably theseat 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 benaturalized among them; you will soon find how particularly attentivethey are to the correctness and elegance of their language, and to thegraces of their enunciation: they would even call the understanding of aman in question, who should neglect or not know the infinite advantagesarising from them. 'Narrer, reciter, declamer bien', are serious studiesamong them, and well deserve to be so everywhere. The conversations, evenamong the women, frequently turn upon the elegancies and minutestdelicacies 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 donot suppose you capable of falling in love with a strumpet), and thatyour rival, without half your parts or knowledge, should get the betterof you, merely by dint of manners, 'enjouement, badinage', etc. , howwould you regret not having sufficiently attended to thoseaccomplishments which you despised as superficial and trifling, but whichyou would then find of real consequence in the course of the world! Andmen, as well as women, are taken by those external graces. Shut up yourbooks, then, now as a business, and open them only as a pleasure; but letthe 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 thebalance 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 ofdebtor 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 onefor 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 thereforenever looks into his account at all. 

When you go to Genoa, pray observe carefully all the environs of it, andview them with somebody who can tell you all the situations andoperations of the Austrian army, during that famous siege, if it deservesto be called one; for in reality the town never was besieged, nor had theAustrians any one thing necessary for a siege. If Marquis Centurioni, whowas last winter in England, should happen to be there, go to him with mycompliments, and he will show you all imaginable civilities. 

I could have sent you some letters to Florence, but that I knew Mr. Mannwould be of more use to you than all of them. Pray make him mycompliments. Cultivate your Italian, while you are at Florence, where itis spoken in its utmost purity, but ill pronounced. 

Pray save me the seed of some of the best melons you eat, and put it updry in paper. You need not send it me; but Mr. Harte will bring it in hispocket when he comes over. I should likewise be glad of some cuttings ofthe best figs, especially la Pica gentile and the Maltese; but as this isnot the season for them, Mr. Mann will, I dare say, undertake thatcommission, 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 yourarrival at Turin. 

LETTER CXVIII. 

LONDON, August 6, O. S. 1750

MY DEAR FRIEND: Since your letter from Sienna, which gave me a veryimperfect account both of your illness and your recovery, I have notreceived one word either from you or Mr. Harte. I impute this to thecarelessness of the post simply: and the great distance between us atpresent exposes our letters to those accidents. But when you come toParis, from whence the letters arrive here very regularly, I shall insistupon you writing to me constantly once a week; and that upon the sameday, for instance, every Thursday, that I may know by what mail to expectyour letter. I shall also require you to be more minute in your accountof yourself than you have hitherto been, or than I have required, becauseof the informations which I receive from time to time from Mr. Harte. AtParis you will be out of your time, and must set up for yourself; it isthen that I shall be very solicitous to know how you carry on yourbusiness. While Mr. Harte was your partner, the care was his share, andthe profit yours. But at Paris, if you will have the latter, you musttake the former along with it. It will be quite a new world to you; verydifferent from the little world that you have hitherto seen; and you willhave much more to do in it. You must keep your little accounts constantlyevery morning, if you would not have them run into confusion, and swellto a bulk that would frighten you from ever looking into them at all. Youmust allow some time for learning what you do not know, and some forkeeping what you do know; and you must leave a great deal of time foryour pleasures; which (I repeat it, again) are now become the mostnecessary part of your education. It is by conversations, dinners, suppers, entertainments, etc. , in the best companies, that you must beformed for the world. 'Les manieres les agremens, les graces' cannot belearned by theory; they are only to be got by use among those who havethem; and they are now the main object of your life, as they are thenecessary steps to your fortune. A man of the best parts, and thegreatest learning, if he does not know the world by his own experienceand observation, will be very absurd; and consequently very unwelcome incompany. He may say very good things; but they will probably be soill-timed, misplaced, or improperly addressed, that he had much betterhold his tongue. Full of his own matter, and uninformed of; orinattentive to, the particular circumstances and situations of thecompany, he vents it indiscriminately; he puts some people out ofcountenance; he shocks others; and frightens all, who dread what may comeout next. The most general rule that I can give you for the world, andwhich your experience will convince you of the truth of, is, Never togive the tone to the company, but to take it from them; and to labor moreto put them in conceit with themselves, than to make them admire you. Those whom you can make like themselves better, will, I promise you, likeyou very well. 

A system-monger, who, without knowing anything of the world byexperience, has formed a system, of it in his dusty cell, lays it down, for example, that (from the general nature of mankind) flattery ispleasing. He will therefore flatter. But how? Why, indiscriminately. Andinstead of repairing and heightening the piece judiciously, with softcolors and a delicate pencil, --with a coarse brush and a great deal ofwhitewash, he daubs and besmears the piece he means to adorn. Hisflattery offends even his patron; and is almost too gross for hismistress. A man of the world knows the force of flattery as well as hedoes; but then he knows how, when, and where to give it; he proportionshis dose to the constitution of the patient. He flatters by application, by inference, by comparison, by hint, and seldom directly. In the courseof the world, there is the same difference in everything between systemand practice. 

I long to have you at Paris, which is to be your great school; you willbe then in a manner within reach of me. 

Tell me, are you perfectly recovered, or do you still find any remainingcomplaint upon your lungs? Your diet should be cooling, and at the sametime nourishing. Milks of all kinds are proper for you; wines of allkinds bad. A great deal of gentle, and no violent exercise, is good foryou. 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 hopesafely, arrived at Montpelier; from whence I trust that Mr. Harte'sindisposition will, by being totally removed, allow you to get to Parisbefore Christmas. You will there find two people who, though bothEnglish, I recommend in the strongest manner possible to your attention;and advise you to form the most intimate connections with them both, intheir different ways. The one is a man whom you already know somethingof, 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 tosay it) calls me, and considers me as his adopted father. His parts areas quick as his knowledge is extensive; and if quality were worth puttinginto an account, where every other item is so much more valuable, he isthe first almost in this country: the figure he will make in it, soonafter he returns to it, will, if I am not more mistaken than ever I wasin my life, equal his birth and my hopes. Such a connection will be ofinfinite advantage to you; and, I can assure you, that he is extremelydisposed to form it upon my account; and will, I hope and believe, desireto 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 isinfallible. There are two sorts of connections, which I would alwaysadvise you to have in view. The first I will call equal ones; by which Imean those, where the two connecting parties reciprocally find theiraccount, from pretty near an equal degree of parts and abilities. Inthose, there must be a freer communication; each must see that the otheris able, and be convinced that he is willing to be of use to him. Honormust be the principle of such connections; and there must be a mutualdependence, that present and separate interest shall not be able to breakthem. There must be a joint system of action; and, in case of differentopinions, each must recede a little, in order at last to form anunanimous one. Such, I hope, will be your connection with LordHuntingdon. You will both come into parliament at the same time; and ifyou have an equal share of abilities and application, you and he, withother young people, with whom you will naturally associate, may form aband which will be respected by any administration, and make a figure inthe 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 theother. Here, the advantage is all on one side; but that advantage must beably and artfully concealed. Complaisance, an engaging manner, and apatient toleration of certain airs of superiority, must cement them. Theweaker party must be taken by the heart, his head giving no hold; and hemust be governed by being made to believe that he governs. These people, skillfully led, give great weight to their leader. I have formerlypointed out to you a couple that I take to be proper objects for yourskill; 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 isturned of fifty. It is Lady Hervey, whom I directed you to call upon atDijon, but who, to my great joy, because to your great advantage, passesall this winter at Paris. She has been bred all her life at courts; ofwhich she has acquired all the easy good-breeding and politeness, withoutthe frivolousness. She has all the reading that a woman should have; andmore 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, Idesire that you will look upon her as my delegate: trust, consult, andapply to her without reserve. No woman ever had more than she has, 'leton de la parfaitement bonne compagnie, les manieres engageantes, et leje ne sais quoi qui plait'. Desire her to reprove and correct any, andevery the least error and inaccuracy in your manners, air, address, etc. No woman in Europe can do it so well; none will do it morewillingly, or in a more proper and obliging manner. In such a case shewill not put you out of countenance, by telling you of it in company; buteither intimate it by some sign, or wait for an opportunity when you arealone together. She is also in the best French company, where she willnot only introduce but PUFF you, if I may use so low a word. And I canassure you that it is no little help, in the 'beau monde', to be puffedthere by a fashionable woman. I send you the inclosed billet to carryher, only as a certificate of the identity of your person, which I takeit for granted she could not know again. 

You would be so much surprised to receive a whole letter from me withoutany mention of the exterior ornaments necessary for a gentleman, asmanners, elocution, air, address, graces, etc. , that, to comply with yourexpectations, I will touch upon them; and tell you, that when you come toEngland, I will show you some people, whom I do not now care to name, raised to the highest stations singly by those exterior and adventitiousornaments, whose parts would never have entitled them to the smallestoffice in the excise. Are they then necessary, and worth acquiring, ornot? You will see many instances of this kind at Paris, particularly aglaring one, of a person--[M. Le Marechal de Richelieu]--raised to thehighest posts and dignities in France, as well as to be absolutesovereign of the 'beau monde', simply by the graces of his person andaddress; by woman's chit-chat, accompanied with important gestures; by animposing air and pleasing abord. Nay, by these helps, he even passes fora wit, though he hath certainly no uncommon share of it. I will not namehim, 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 'defacto' there. It is very often more necessary to conceal contempt thanresentment, the former forgiven, but the latter sometimes forgot. 

There is a small quarto book entitled, 'Histoire Chronologique de laFrance', lately published by Le President Henault, a man of parts andlearning, with whom you will probably get acquainted at Paris. I desirethat it may always lie upon your table, for your recourse as often as youread history. The chronology, though chiefly relative to the history ofFrance, is not singly confined to it; but the most interesting events ofall the rest of Europe are also inserted, and many of them adorned byshort, pretty, and just reflections. The new edition of 'Les Memoires deSully', in three quarto volumes, is also extremely well worth yourreading, as it will give you a clearer, and truer notion of one of themost interesting periods of the French history, than you can yet haveformed from all the other books you may have read upon the subject. Thatprince, I mean Henry the Fourth, had all the accomplishments and virtuesof a hero, and of a king, and almost of a man. The last are the mostrarely seen. May you possess them all! Adieu. 

Pray make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and let him know that I have thismoment received his letter of the 12th, N. S. , from Antibes. It requiresno immediate answer; I shall therefore delay mine till I have anotherfrom 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 atMontpelier, but rather be sent after you from thence to Paris, where, Iam persuaded, that Mr. Harte could find as good advice for his leg as atMontpelier, if not better; but if he is of a different opinion, I am sureyou ought to stay there, as long as he desires. 

While you are in France, I could wish that the hours you allot forhistorical amusement should be entirely devoted to the history of France. One always reads history to most advantage in that country to which it isrelative; not only books, but persons being ever at hand to solve doubtsand clear up difficulties. I do by no means advise you to throw away yourtime in ransacking, like a dull antiquarian, the minute and unimportantparts of remote and fabulous times. Let blockheads read what blockheadswrote. And a general notion of the history of France, from the conquestof that country by the Franks, to the reign of Louis the Eleventh, issufficient for use, consequently sufficient for you. There are, however, in those remote times, some remarkable eras that deserve more particularattention; I mean those in which some notable alterations happened in theconstitution and form of government. As, for example, in the settlementof Clovis in Gaul, and the form of government which he then established;for, by the way; that form of government differed in this particular fromall the other Gothic governments, that the people, neither collectivelynor by representatives, had any share in it. It was a mixture of monarchyand aristocracy: and what were called the States General of Franceconsisted only of the nobility and clergy till the time of Philip le Bel, in the very beginning of the fourteenth century, who first called thepeople to those assemblies, by no means for the good of the people, whowere only amused by this pretended honor, but, in truth, to check thenobility and clergy, and induce them to grant the money he wanted for hisprofusion; this was a scheme of Enguerrand de Marigny, his minister, whogoverned both him and his kingdom to such a degree as to, be called thecoadjutor and governor of the kingdom. Charles Martel laid aside theseassemblies, and governed by open force. Pepin restored them, and attachedthem to him, and with them the nation; by which means he deposedChilderic and mounted the throne. This is a second period worth yourattention. The third race of kings, which begins with Hugues Capet, is athird period. A judicious reader of history will save himself a greatdeal of time and trouble by attending with care only to those interestingperiods of history which furnish remarkable events, and make eras, andgoing slightly over the common run of events. Some people read historyas others read the "Pilgrim's Progress"; giving equal attention to, andindiscriminately loading their memories with, every part alike. But Iwould have you read it in a different manner; take the shortest generalhistory you can find of every country; and mark down in that history themost important periods, such as conquests, changes of kings, andalterations of the form of government; and then have recourse to moreextensive histories or particular treatises, relative to those greatpoints. Consider them well, trace up their causes, and follow theirconsequences. For instance, there is a most excellent, though very shorthistory of France, by Le Gendre. Read that with attention, and you willknow enough of the general history; but when you find there suchremarkable periods as are above mentioned, consult Mezeray, and other ofthe best and minutest historians, as well as political treatises uponthose subjects. In later times, memoirs, from those of Philip deCommines, down to the innumerble ones in the reign of Louis theFourteenth, have been of great use, and thrown great light uponparticular parts of history. 

Conversation in France, if you have the address and dexterity to turn itupon useful subjects, will exceedingly improve your historical knowledge;for people there, however classically ignorant they may be, think it ashame 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 proudof having read that, and talk of it willingly; even the women are wellinstructed in that sort of reading. I am far from meaning by this thatyou should always be talking wisely in company, of books, history, andmatters of knowledge. There are many companies which you will, and oughtto keep, where such conversations would be misplaced and ill-timed; yourown good sense must distinguish the company and the time. You must trifleonly with triflers; and be serious only with the serious, but dance tothose who pipe. 'Cur in theatrum Cato severs venisti?' was justly said toan old man: how much more so would it be to one of your age? From themoment that you are dressed and go out, pocket all your knowledge withyour watch, and never pull it out in company unless desired: theproducing of the one unasked, implies that you are weary of the company;and the producing of the other unrequired, will make the company weary ofyou. Company is a republic too jealous of its liberties, to suffer adictator 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 todisclaim, instead of attempting to usurp the power; that is the occasionin which manners, dexterity, address, and the undefinable 'je ne saisquoi' triumph; if properly exerted, their conquest is sure, and the morelasting for not being perceived. Remember, that this is not only yourfirst and greatest, but ought to be almost your only object, while youare in France. 

I know that many of your countrymen are apt to call the freedom andvivacity of the French petulancy and illbreeding; but, should you thinkso, I desire upon many accounts that you will not say so; I admit that itmay be so in some instances of 'petits maitres Etourdis', and in someyoung people unbroken to the world; but I can assure you, that you willfind it much otherwise with people of a certain rank and age, upon whosemodel you will do very well to form yourself. We call their steadyassurance, impudence why? Only because what we call modesty is awkwardbashfulness and 'mauvaise honte'. For my part, I see no impudence, but, on the contrary, infinite utility and advantage in presenting one's selfwith the same coolness and unconcern in any and every company. Till onecan 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 willnever be thought to have kept good company, nor be very welcome in it. Asteady assurance, with seeming modesty, is possibly the most usefulqualification that a man can have in every part of life. A man wouldcertainly make a very considerable fortune and figure in the world, whosemodesty and timidity should often, as bashfulness always does (put him inthe deplorable and lamentable situation of the pious AEneas, when'obstupuit, steteruntque comae; et vox faucibus haesit!). Fortune (aswell 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 bydifficulties in its journey; whereas barefaced impudence is the noisy andblustering harbinger of a worthless and senseless usurper. 

You will think that I shall never have done recommending to you theseexterior worldly accomplishments, and you will think right, for I nevershall; they are of too great consequence to you for me to be indifferentor negligent about them: the shining part of your future figure andfortune depends now wholly upon them. These are the acquisitions whichmust give efficacy and success to those you have already made. To have itsaid and believed that you are the most learned man in England, would beno 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, andagreeable man in the kingdom, would be such a happy composition of acharacter as I never yet knew any one man deserve; and which I willendeavor, 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 beunweariedly 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 toyour own discretion, if you have any, it is necessary that we shouldunderstand one another thoroughly; which is the most probable way ofpreventing disputes. Money, the cause of much mischief in the world, isthe cause of most quarrels between fathers and sons; the former commonlythinking that they cannot give too little, and the latter, that theycannot have enough; both equally in the wrong. You must do me the justiceto acknowledge, that I have hitherto neither stinted nor grudged anyexpense that could be of use or real pleasure to you; and I can assureyou, by the way, that you have traveled at a much more considerableexpense than I did myself; but I never so much as thought of that, whileMr. Harte was at the head of your finances; being very sure that the sumsgranted were scrupulously applied to the uses for which they wereintended. But the case will soon be altered, and you will be your ownreceiver and treasurer. However, I promise you, that we will not quarrelsingly upon the quantum, which shall be cheerfully and freely granted:the application and appropriation of it will be the material point, whichI am now going to clear up and finally settle with you. I will fix, oreven name, no settled allowance; though I well know in my own mind whatwould be the proper one; but I will first try your draughts, by which Ican in a good degree judge of your conduct. This only I tell you ingeneral, that if the channels through which my money is to go are theproper ones, the source shall not be scanty; but should it deviate intodirty, muddy, and obscure ones (which by the bye, it cannot do for a weekwithout my knowing it); I give you fair and timely notice, that thesource will instantly be dry. Mr. Harte, in establishing you at Paris, will point out to you those proper channels; he will leave you there uponthe foot of a man of fashion, and I will continue you upon the same; youwill have your coach, your valet de chambre, your own footman, and avalet de place; which, by the way, is one servant more than I had. Iwould have you very well dressed, by which I mean dressed as thegenerality 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 welldressed, not finely dressed, that a gentleman should be distinguished. You must frequent 'les spectacles', which expense I shall willinglysupply. You must play 'a des petits jeux de commerce' in mixed companies;that article is trifling; I shall pay it cheerfully. All the otherarticles of pocket-money are very inconsiderable at Paris, in comparisonof what they are here, the silly custom of giving money wherever onedines or sups, and the expensive importunity of subscriptions, not beingyet introduced there. Having thus reckoned up all the decent expenses ofa gentleman, which I will most readily defray, I come now to those whichI 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 necessaryeventually to assure you, that no consideration in the world shall evermake me pay your play debts; should you ever urge to me that your honoris 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 thepawn for the debt. 

Low company, and low pleasures, are always much more costly than liberaland elegant ones. The disgraceful riots of a tavern are much moreexpensive, as well as dishonorable, than the sometimes pardonableexcesses in good company. I must absolutely hear of no tavern scrapes andsquabbles. 

I come now to another and very material point; I mean women; and I willnot address myself to you upon this subject, either in a religious, amoral, 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 speakto another. I will by no means pay for whores, and their never-failingconsequences, surgeons; nor will I, upon any account, keep singers, dancers, actresses, and 'id genus omne'; and, independently of theexpense, I must tell you, that such connections would give me, and allsensible people, the utmost contempt for your parts and address; a youngfellow must have as little sense as address, to venture, or more properlyto sacrifice, his health and ruin his fortune, with such sort ofcreatures; in such a place as Paris especially, where gallantry is boththe profession and the practice of every woman of fashion. To speakplainly, I will not forgive your understanding c--------s and p-------s;nor will your constitution forgive them you. These distempers, as well astheir cures, fall nine times in ten upon the lungs. This argument, I amsure, ought to have weight with you: for I protest to you, that if youmeet with any such accident, I would not give one year's purchase foryour life. Lastly, there is another sort of expense that I will notallow, only because it is a silly one; I mean the fooling away your moneyin 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 youwhatever is necessary, not only for the figure, but for the pleasures ofa gentleman, and not to supply the profusion of a rake. This, you mustconfess, does not savor of either the severity or parsimony of old age. Iconsider 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 aspunctual in the payment of the subsidies, as England has been during thelast war; but then I give you notice at the same time, that I require amuch more scrupulous execution of the treaty on your part, than we metwith on that of our allies; or else that payment will be stopped. I hopeall that I have now said was absolutely unnecessary, and that sentimentsmore worthy and more noble than pecuniary ones, would of themselves havepointed out to you the conduct I recommend; but, at all events, Iresolved to be once for all explicit with you, that, in the worst thatcan happen, you may not plead ignorance, and complain that I had notsufficiently explained to you my intentions. 

Having mentioned the word rake, I must say a word or two more on thatsubject, because young people too frequently, and always fatally, are aptto mistake that character for that of a man of pleasure; whereas, thereare not in the world two characters more different. A rake is acomposition of all the lowest, most ignoble, degrading, and shamefulvices; they all conspire to disgrace his character, and to ruin hisfortune; while wine and the p-------s contend which shall soonest andmost effectually destroy his constitution. A dissolute, flagitiousfootman, or porter, makes full as good a rake as a man of the firstquality. By the bye, let me tell you, that in the wildest part of myyouth, I never was a rake, but, on the contrary, always detested anddespised that character. 

A man of pleasure, though not always so scrupulous as he should be, andas one day he will wish he had been, refines at least his pleasures bytaste, accompanies them with decency, and enjoys them with dignity. Fewmen can be men of pleasure, every man may be a rake. Remember that Ishall know everything you say or do at Paris, as exactly as if, by theforce of magic, I could follow you everywhere, like a sylph or a gnome, invisible myself. Seneca says, very prettily, that one should ask nothingof 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 sayand do nothing at Paris, but what you would be willing that I shouldknow. 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 (Ishould think) make you both 'respectable et aimable', the perfection of ahuman character. In that case nothing shall be wanting on my part, andyou shall solidly experience all the extent and tenderness of myaffection for you; but dread the reverse of both! Adieu!

P. S. When you get to Paris, after you have been to wait on LordAlbemarle, go to see Mr. Yorke, whom I have particular reasons fordesiring that you should be well with, as I shall hereafter explain toyou. Let him know that my orders, and your own inclinations, conspired tomake 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 themall. 

You have hitherto had more liberty than anybody of your age ever had; andI must do you the justice to own, that you have made a better use of itthan most people of your age would have done; but then, though you hadnot a jailer, you had a friend with you. At Paris, you will not only beunconfined, but unassisted. Your own good sense must be your only guide:I have great confidence in it, and am convinced that I shall receive justsuch accounts of your conduct at Paris as I could wish; for I tell youbeforehand, 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, youcannot do better: but refine and dignify them like a man, of parts; letthem 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 yourequals at least, but rather with your superiors, and those chieflyFrench. 

Inquire into the characters of the several Academicians, before you forma connection with any of them; and be most upon your guard against thosewho 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 booksthose quarters and halves of hours, which occur to everybody in thecourse of almost every day; and which, at the year's end, amount to avery considerable sum of time. Let Greek, without fail, share some partof every day; I do not mean the Greek poets, the catches of Anacreon, orthe tender complaints of Theocritus, or even the porter-like language ofHomer's heroes; of whom all smatterers in Greek know a little, quoteoften, and talk of always; but I mean Plato, Aristoteles, Demosthenes, and Thucydides, whom none but adepts know. It is Greek that mustdistinguish you in the learned world, Latin alone will not: and Greekmust be sought to be retained, for it never occurs like Latin. When youread history or other books of amusement, let every language you aremaster of have its turn, so that you may not only retain, but improve ineveryone. I also desire that you will converse in German and Italian, with all the Germans and the Italians with whom you converse at all. Thiswill be a very agreeable and flattering thing to them, and a very usefulone to you. 

Pray apply yourself diligently to your exercises; for though the doingthem well is not supremely meritorious, the doing them ill is illiberal, vulgar, and ridiculous. 

I recommend theatrical representations to you; which are excellent atParis. The tragedies of Corneille and Racine, and the comedies ofMoliere, well attended to, are admirable lessons, both for the heart andthe head. There is not, nor ever was, any theatre comparable to theFrench. If the music of the French operas does not please your Italianear, the words of them, at least, are sense and poetry, which is muchmore than I can, say of any Italian opera that I ever read or heard in mylife. 

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 amsure, feel the good effects of his warm friendship for me and LordBolingbroke, who has also wrote to him upon your subject. By that, and bythe other letters which I have sent you, you will be at once sothoroughly introduced into the best French company, that you must takesome pains if you will keep bad; but that is what I do not suspect youof. You have, I am sure, too much right ambition to prefer low anddisgraceful company to that of your superiors, both in rank and age. Yourcharacter, and consequently your fortune, absolutely depends upon thecompany you keep, and the turn you take at Paris. I do not in the leastmean a grave turn; on the contrary, a gay, a sprightly, but, at the sametime, an elegant and liberal one. 

Keep carefully out of all scrapes and quarrels. They lower a characterextremely; and are particularly dangerous in France; where a man isdishonored by not resenting an affront, and utterly ruined by resentingit. The young Frenchmen are hasty, giddy, and petulant; extremelynational, and 'avantageux'. Forbear from any national jokes orreflections, which are always improper, and commonly unjust. The coldernorthern 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; butthose very 'petits maltres', when mellowed by age and experience, veryoften turn out very able men. The number of great generals and statesmen, as well as excellent authors, that France has produced, is an undeniableproof, that it is not that frivolous, unthinking, empty nation thatnorthern prejudices suppose it. Seem to like and approve of everything atfirst, and I promise you that you will like and approve of many thingsafterward. 

I expect that you will write to me constantly, once every week, which Idesire may be every Thursday; and that your letters may inform me of yourpersonal transactions: not of what you see, but of whom you see, and whatyou 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 sonecessary: 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 yetI do. The bodily-carriage and graces are of infinite consequence toeverybody, 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 uponstrange, little, trifling objects; and you will think right, if youconsider them separately; but if you take them aggregately, you will beconvinced that as parts, which conspire to form that whole, called theexterior of a man of fashion, they are of importance. I shall not dwellnow upon these personal graces, that liberal air, and that engagingaddress, which I have so often recommended to you; but descend stilllower, 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 inthe finery, but in the taste, fitness, and manner of wearing yourclothes; a fine suit ill-made, and slatternly or stiffly worn, far fromadorning, only exposes the awkwardness of the wearer. Get the best Frenchtailor to make your clothes, whatever they are, in the fashion, and tofit you: and then wear them, button them, or unbutton them, as thegenteelest people you see do. Let your man learn of the best friseur todo your hair well, for that is a very material part of your dress. Takecare to have your stockings well gartered up, and your shoes wellbuckled; for nothing gives a more slovenly air to a man than ill-dressedlegs. In your person you must be accurately clean; and your teeth, hands, and nails, should be superlatively so; a dirty mouth has real illconsequences to the owner, for it infallibly causes the decay, as well asthe intolerable pain of the teeth, and it is very offensive to hisacquaintance, for it will most inevitably stink. I insist, therefore, that you wash your teeth the first thing you do every morning, with asoft sponge and swarm water, for four or five minutes; and then wash yourmouth five or six times. Mouton, whom I desire you will send for uponyour arrival at Paris, will give you an opiate, and a liquor to be usedsometimes. Nothing looks more ordinary, vulgar, and illiberal, than dirtyhands, and ugly, uneven, and ragged nails: I do not suspect you of thatshocking, awkward trick, of biting yours; but that is not enough: youmust keep the ends of them smooth and clean, not tipped with black, asthe ordinary people's always are. The ends of your nails should be smallsegments of circles, which, by a very little care in the cutting, theyare very easily brought to; every time that you wipe your hands, rub theskin round your nails backward, that it may not grow up, and shorten yournails too much. The cleanliness of the rest of your person, which, by theway, will conduce greatly to your health, I refer from time to time tothe bagnio. My mentioning these particulars arises (I freely own) fromsome suspicion that the hints are not unnecessary; for, when you were aschoolboy, you were slovenly and dirty above your fellows. I must addanother caution, which is that upon no account whatever, you put yourfingers, as too many people are apt to do, in your nose or ears. It isthe most shocking, nasty, vulgar rudeness, that can be offered tocompany; it disgusts one, it turns one's stomach; and, for my own part, Iwould 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 blowyour nose in your handkerchief whenever you have occasion; but, by theway, without looking at it afterward. There should be in the least, aswell as in the greatest parts of a gentleman, 'les manieres nobles'. Sense will teach you some, observation others; attend carefully to themanners, the diction, the motions, of people of the first fashion, andform your own upon them. On the other hand, observe a little those of thevulgar, in order to avoid them: for though the things which they say ordo may be the same, the manner is always totally different: and in that, and nothing else, consists the characteristic of a man of fashion. Thelowest peasant speaks, moves, dresses, eats, and drinks, as much as a manof the first fashion, but does them all quite differently; so that bydoing 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 aregradations 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 themanners of the court, are the only true standard 'des manieres nobles, etd'un honnete homme. Ex pede Herculem' is an old and true saying, and veryapplicable to our present subject; for a man of parts, who has been bredat courts, and used to keep the best company, will distinguish himself, and is to be known from the vulgar by every word, attitude, gesture, andeven look. I cannot leave these seeming 'minutiae', without repeating toyou the necessity of your carving well; which is an article, little as itis, that is useful twice every day of one's life; and the doing it ill isvery troublesome to one's self, and very disagreeable, often ridiculous, to others. 

Having said all this, I cannot help reflecting, what a formal dullfellow, or a cloistered pedant, would say, if they were to see thisletter: they would look upon it with the utmost contempt, and say thatsurely a father might find much better topics for advice to a son. Iwould admit it, if I had given you, or that you were capable ofreceiving, no better; but if sufficient pains have been taken to formyour heart and improve your mind, and, as I hope, not without success, Iwill tell those solid gentlemen, that all these trifling things, as theythink them, collectively, form that pleasing 'je ne sais quoi', thatensemble, which they are utter strangers to both in themselves andothers. The word aimable is not known in their language, or the thing intheir manners. Great usage of the world, great attention, and a greatdesire of pleasing, can alone give it; and it is no trifle. It is fromold people's looking upon these things as trifles, or not thinking ofthem 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 thecommon run of education, as school, university, and then traveling;without examining, and very often without being able to judge, if theydid examine, what progress they make in any one of these stages. Then, they carelessly comfort themselves, and say, that their sons will do likeother people's sons; and so they do, that is, commonly very ill. Theycorrect none of the childish nasty tricks, which they get at school; northe illiberal manners which they contract at the university; nor thefrivolous and superficial pertness, which is commonly all that theyacquire 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 everhearing, or knowing, that they are unbecoming, indecent, and shocking. For, as I have often formerly observed to you, nobody but a father cantake the liberty to reprove a young fellow, grown up, for those kinds ofinaccuracies and improprieties of behavior. The most intimate friendship, unassisted by the paternal superiority, will not authorize it. I maytruly say, therefore, that you are happy in having me for a sincere, friendly, and quick-sighted monitor. Nothing will escape me: I shall pryfor your defects, in order to correct them, as curiously as I shall seekfor your perfections, in order to applaud and reward them, with thisdifference only, that I shall publicly mention the latter, and never hintat the former, but in a letter to, or a tete-d-tete with you. I willnever put you out of countenance before company; and I hope you willnever give me reason to be out of countenance for you, as any one of theabove-mentioned defects would make me. 'Praetor non, curat de minimis', was a maxim in the Roman law; for causes only of a certain value weretried by him but there were inferior jurisdictions, that took cognizanceof the smallest. Now I shall try you, not only as 'praetor' in thegreatest, but as 'censor' in lesser, and as the lowest magistrate in theleast 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 towardParis, 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; hewould find better advice, and you better company, at Paris. In themeantime, I hope you go into the best company there is at Montpelier; andthere always is some at the Intendant's, or the Commandant's. You willhave had full time to learn 'les petites chansons Languedociennes', whichare exceedingly pretty ones, both words and tunes. I remember, when I wasin those parts, I was surprised at the difference which I found betweenthe people on one side, and those on the other side of the Rhone. TheProvencaux were, in general, surly, ill-bred, ugly, and swarthy; theLanguedocians 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 musthave 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 Frenchmarine at Toulon, and of the commerce at Marseilles; they are objectsthat deserve the inquiry and attention of every man who intends to beconcerned 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 EastIndia trade has greatly affected ours; and, in the West Indies, theirMartinico establishment supplies, not only France itself, but thegreatest part of Europe, with sugars whereas our islands, as Jamaica, Barbadoes, and the Leeward, have now no other market for theirs butEngland. New France, or Canada, has also greatly lessened our fur andskin trade. It is true (as you say) that we have no treaty of commercesubsisting (I do not say WITH MARSEILLES) but with France. There was atreaty of commerce made between England and France, immediately after thetreaty of Utrecht; but the whole treaty was conditional, and to dependupon the parliament's enacting certain things which were stipulated intwo of the articles; the parliament, after a very famous debate, wouldnot do it; so the treaty fell to the ground: however, the outlines ofthat treaty are, by mutual and tacit consent, the general rules of ourpresent commerce with France. It is true, too, that our commodities whichgo to France, must go in our bottoms; the French having imitated in manyrespects our famous Act of Navigation, as it is commonly called. This actwas made in the year 1652, in the parliament held by Oliver Cromwell. Itforbids all foreign ships to bring into England any merchandise orcommodities whatsoever, that were not of the growth and produce of thatcountry to which those ships belonged, under penalty of the forfeiture ofsuch ships. This act was particularly leveled at the Dutch, who were atthat time the carriers of almost all Europe, and got immensely byfreight. Upon this principle, of the advantages arising from freight, there is a provision in the same act, that even the growth and produce ofour own colonies in America shall not be carried from thence to any othercountry in Europe, without first touching in England; but this clause haslately been repealed, in the instances of some perishable commodities, such as rice, etc. , which are allowed to be carried directly from ourAmerican colonies to other countries. The act also provides, thattwo-thirds, I think, of those who navigate the said ships shall beBritish subjects. There is an excellent, and little book, written by thefamous Monsieur Huet Eveque d'Avranches, 'Sur le Commerce des Anciens', which is very well worth your reading, and very soon read. It will giveyou a clear notion of the rise and progress of commerce. There are manyother books, which take up the history of commerce where Monsieurd'Avranches leaves it, and bring it down to these times. I advise you toread some of them with care; commerce being a very essential part ofpolitical knowledge in every country; but more particularly in that whichowes all its riches and power to it. 

I come now to another part of your letter, which is the orthography, if Imay call bad spelling ORTHOGRAPHY. You spell induce, ENDUCE; andgrandeur, you spell grandURE; two faults of which few of my housemaidswould have been guilty. I must tell you that orthography, in the truesense of the word, is so absolutely necessary for a man of letters; or agentleman, that one false spelling may fix ridicule upon him for the restof his life; and I know a man of quality, who never recovered theridicule of having spelled WHOLESOME without the w. 

Reading with care will secure everybody from false spelling; for booksare always well spelled, according to the orthography of the times. Somewords are indeed doubtful, being spelled differently by different authorsof equal authority; but those are few; and in those cases every man hashis option, because he may plead his authority either way; but wherethere is but one right way, as in the two words above mentioned, it isunpardonable and ridiculous for a gentleman to miss it; even a woman of atolerable education would despise and laugh, at a lover, who should sendher an ill-spelled billet-doux. I fear and suspect, that you have takenit into your head, in most cases, that the matter is all, and the mannerlittle or nothing. If you have, undeceive yourself, and be convincedthat, in everything, the manner is full as important as the matter. Ifyou speak the sense of an angel, in bad words and with a disagreeableutterance, nobody will hear you twice, who can help it. If you writeepistles 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. Myprincipal inquiries of my friends at Paris, concerning you, will berelative to your manner of doing whatever you do. I shall not inquirewhether you understand Demosthenes, Tacitus, or the 'Jus PublicumImperii'; but I shall inquire, whether your utterance is pleasing, yourstyle not only pure, but elegant, your manners noble and easy, your airand address engaging in short, whether you are a gentleman, a man offashion, and fit to keep good company, or not; for, till I am satisfiedin these particulars, you and I must by no means meet; I could notpossibly stand it. It is in your power to become all this at Paris, ifyou please. Consult with Lady Hervey and Madame Monconseil upon all thesematters; 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; andthat you will implicitly follow their directions. This, together withyour careful observation of the manners of the best company, will reallyform you. 

Abbe Guasco, a friend of mine, will come to you as soon as he knows ofyour 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 servicehe can; he is active and curious, and can give you information upon mostthings. He is a sort of 'complaisant' of the President Montesquieu, towhom 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 mustbe 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 theelegance, the delicacy, and the orthography of that language which is, ina manner, become the universal one of Europe. I am assured that you speakit well, but in that well there are gradations. He, who in the provincesmight be reckoned to speak correctly, would at Paris be looked upon as anancient Gaul. In that country of mode, even language is subservient tofashion, which varies almost as often as their clothes. 

The AFFECTED, the REFINED, the NEOLOGICAL, OR NEW FASHIONABLE STYLE areat present too much in vogue at Paris. Know, observe, and occasionallyconverse (if you please) according to those different styles; but do notlet your taste be infected by them. Wit, too, is there subservient tofashion; and actually, at Paris, one must have wit, even in despite ofMinerva. Everybody runs after it; although if it does not come naturallyand of itself; it never can be overtaken. But, unfortunately for thosewho pursue, they seize upon what they take for wit, and endeavor to passit for such upon others. This is, at best, the lot of Ixion, who embraceda cloud instead of the goddess he pursued. Fine sentiments, which neverexisted, false and unnatural thoughts, obscure and far-soughtexpressions, not only unintelligible, but which it is even impossible todecipher, or to guess at, are all the consequences of this error; andtwo-thirds of the new French books which now appear are made up of thoseingredients. It is the new cookery of Parnassus, in which the still isemployed instead of the pot and the spit, and where quintessences andextracts 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 notsuffer your taste to be corrupted by it. And when you, in your turn, aredesirous of treating others, take the good old cookery of Lewis XIV. 'sreign for your rule. There were at that time admirable head cooks, suchas Corneille, Boileau, Racine, and La Fontaine. Whatever they preparedwas simple, wholesome, and solid. But laying aside all metaphors, do notsuffer yourself to be dazzled by false brilliancy, by unnaturalexpressions, nor by those antitheses so much in fashion: as a protectionagainst such innovations, have a recourse to your own good sense, and tothe ancient authors. On the other hand, do not laugh at those who giveinto such errors; you are as yet too young to act the critic, or to standforth a severe avenger of the violated rights of good sense. Contentyourself 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 (aswell as that kingdom itself) undergone many vicissitudes. Under the reignof I do not say Lewis XIII. But of Cardinal de Richelieu, good tastefirst began to make its way. It was refined under that of Lewis XIV. , agreat king, at least, if not a great man. Corneille was the restorer oftrue taste, and the founder of the French theatre; although ratherinclined to the Italian 'Concetti' and the Spanish 'Agudeze'. Witnessthose epigrams which he makes Chimene utter in the greatest excess ofgrief. 

Before his time, those kind of itinerant authors, called troubadours orromanciers, were a species of madmen who attracted the admiration offools. Toward the end of Cardinal de Richelieu's reign, and the beginningof Lewis XIV. 's, the Temple of Taste was established at the Hotel ofRambouillet; but that taste was not judiciously refined this Temple ofTaste might more properly have been named a Laboratory of Wit, where goodsense was put to the torture, in order to extract from it the mostsubtile essence. There it was that Voiture labored hard and incessantlyto create wit. At length, Boileau and Moliere fixed the standard of truetaste. In spite of the Scuderys, the Calprenedes, etc. , they defeated andput to flight ARTAMENES, JUBA, OROONDATES, and all those heroes ofromance, who were, notwithstanding (each of them), as good as a wholeArmy. Those madmen then endeavored to obtain an asylum in libraries; thisthey could not accomplish, but were under a necessity of taking shelterin 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 youto form any idea of the extravagances they contain; but God keep you fromever persevering to the twelfth. 

During almost the whole reign of Lewis XIV. , true taste remained in itspurity, until it received some hurt, although undesignedly, from a veryfine genius, I mean Monsieur de Fontenelle; who, with the greatest senseand the most solid learning, sacrificed rather too much to the Graces, whose most favorite child and pupil he was. Admired with reason, otherstried 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 sincebeen taken off by a thousand authors: but never really imitated by anyonethat I know of. 

At this time, the seat of true taste in France seems to me not wellestablished. It exists, but torn by factions. There is one party ofpetits maitres, one of half-learned women, another of insipid authorswhose works are 'verba et voces, et praeterea nihil'; and, in short, anumerous and very fashionable party of writers, who, in a metaphysicaljumble, introduce their false and subtle reasonings upon the movementsand the sentiments of THE SOUL, THE HEART, and THE MIND. 

Do not let yourself be overpowered by fashion, nor by particular sets ofpeople with whom you may be connected; but try all the different coinsbefore you receive any in payment. Let your own good sense and reasonjudge of the value of each; and be persuaded, that NOTHING CAN BEBEAUTIFUL UNLESS TRUE: whatever brilliancy is not the result of thesolidity and justness of a thought, it is but a false glare. The Italiansaying upon a diamond is equally just with regard to thoughts, 'QuantoPiu sodezza, tanto piu splendore'. 

All this ought not to hinder you from conforming externally to the modesand tones of the different companies in which you may chance to be. Withthe 'petits maitres' speak epigrams; false sentiments, with frivolouswomen; 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 changingthe tone of the company, but conform to it. Examine well, however; weighall maturely within yourself; and do not mistake the tinsel of Tasso forthe gold of Virgil. 

You will find at Paris good authors, and circles distinguished by thesolidity of their reasoning. You will never hear TRIFLING, AFFECTED, andfar-sought conversations, at Madame de Monconseil's, nor at the hotels ofMatignon and Coigni, where she will introduce you. The PresidentMontesquieu will not speak to you in the epigrammatic style. His book, the "Spirit of the Laws, " written in the vulgar tongue, will equallyplease and instruct you. 

Frequent the theatre whenever Corneille, Racine, and Moliere's pieces areplayed. They are according to nature and to truth. I do not mean by thisto 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, andapplicable to one's self. If you choose to know the characters of peoplenow in fashion, read Crebillon the younger, and Marivaux's works. Theformer is a most excellent painter; the latter has studied, and knows thehuman heart, perhaps too well. Crebillon's 'Egaremens du Coeur et del'Esprit is an excellent work in its kind; it will be of infiniteamusement 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 donot mistake the objects of your attention, you will find matter at Paristo form a good and true taste. 

As I shall let you remain at Paris without any person to direct yourconduct, I flatter myself that you will not make a bad use of theconfidence I repose in you. I do not require that you should lead thelife of a Capuchin friar; quite the contrary: I recommend pleasures toyou; but I expect that they shall be the pleasures of a gentleman. Thoseadd brilliancy to a young man's character; but debauchery vilifies anddegrades it. I shall have very true and exact accounts of your conduct;and, according to the informations I receive, shall be more, or less, ornot at all, yours. Adieu. 

P. S. Do not omit writing to me once a-week; and let your answer to thisletter be in French. Connect yourself as much as possible with theforeign ministers; which is properly traveling into different countries, without going from one place. Speak Italian to all the Italians, andGerman to all the Germans you meet, in order not to forget those twolanguages. 

I wish you, my dear friend, as many happy new years as you deserve, andnot 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 youhave been once invited, and have none of that shyness which makes most ofyour countrymen strangers, where they might be intimate and domestic ifthey pleased. Wherever you have a general invitation to sup when youplease, profit of it, with decency, and go every now and then. LordAlbemarle will, I am sure, be extremely kind to you, but his house isonly a dinner house; and, as I am informed, frequented by no Frenchpeople. 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 nocredit 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 aschool-boy writing his exercise, which he hopes will never be read. 

Madame de Monconseil gives me a favorable account of you; and so doMarquis de Matignon and Madame du Boccage; they all say that you desireto please, and consequently promise me that you will; and they judgeright; for whoever really desires to please, and has (as you now have)the means of learning how, certainly will please and that is the greatpoint of life; it makes all other things easy. Whenever you are withMadame de Monconseil, Madame du Boccage, or other women of fashion, withwhom you are tolerably free, say frankly and naturally: "I know little ofthe world; I am quite a novice in it; and although very desirous ofpleasing, I am at a loss for the means. Be so good, Madame, as to let meinto your secret of pleasing everybody. I shall owe my success to it, andyou will always have more than falls to your share. " When, in consequenceof this request, they shall tell you of any little error, awkwardness, orimpropriety, you should not only feel, but express the warmestacknowledgment. Though nature should suffer, and she will at firsthearing them, tell them, that you will look upon the most severecriticisms as the greatest proof of their friendship. Madame du Boccagetells me, particularly, to inform you: "I shall always, receive the honorof his visits with pleasure; it is true, that at his age the pleasures ofconversation are cold; but I will endeavor to make him acquainted withyoung people, " etc. 

Make use of this invitation, and as you live, in a manner, next door toher, step in and out there frequently. Monsieur du Boccage will go withyou, he tells me, with great pleasure, to the plays, and point out to youwhatever 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 yoursubject; 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 littlematters; tell her any difficulties that may occur to you; ask her whatyou should do or say in such or such cases; she has 'l'usage du monde enperfection', and will help you to acquire it. Madame de Berkenrode 'estpaitrie de graces', and your quotation is very applicable to her. You maybe there, I dare say, as often as you please, and I would advise you tosup there once a week. 

You say, very justly, that as Mr. Harte is leaving you, you shall wantadvice more than ever; you shall never want mine; and as you have alreadyhad so much of it, I must rather repeat than add to what I have alreadygiven you; but that I will do, and add to it occasionally, ascircumstances may require. At present I shall only remind you of your twogreat objects, which you should always attend to; they are parliament andforeign affairs. With regard to the former, you can do nothing whileabroad but attend carefully to the purity, correctness, and elegance ofyour diction; the clearness and gracefulness of your utterance, inwhatever language you speak. As for the parliamentary knowledge, I willtake care of that when you come home. With regard to foreign affairs, everything you do abroad may and ought to tend that way. Your readingshould be chiefly historical; I do not mean of remote, dark, and fabuloushistory, still less of jimcrack natural history of fossils, minerals, plants, etc. , but I mean the useful, political, and constitutionalhistory of Europe, for these last three centuries and a half. The otherthing necessary for your foreign object, and not less necessary thaneither ancient or modern knowledge, is a great knowledge of the world, manners, politeness, address, and 'le ton de la bonne compagnie'. In thatview, keeping a great deal of good company, is the principal point towhich you are now to attend. It seems ridiculous to tell you, but it ismost certainly true, that your dancing-master is at this time the man inall Europe of the greatest importance to you. You must dance well, inorder to sit, stand, and walk well; and you must do all these well inorder to please. What with your exercises, some reading, and a great dealof company, your day is, I confess, extremely taken up; but the day, ifwell employed, is long enough for everything; and I am sure you will notslattern away one moment of it in inaction. At your age, people havestrong and active spirits, alacrity and vivacity in all they do; are'impigri', indefatigable, and quick. The difference is, that a youngfellow of parts exerts all those happy dispositions in the pursuit ofproper objects; endeavors to excel in the solid, and in the showish partsof life; whereas a silly puppy, or a dull rogue, throws away all hisyouth and spirit upon trifles, where he is serious or upon disgracefulvices, 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 withme for the future. Continue only at Paris as you have begun, and yourstay there will make you, what I have always wished you to be, as nearperfection 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 areexceedingly careful and jealous of the dignity of your character; that isthe sure and solid foundation upon which you must both stand and rise. Aman's moral character is a more delicate thing than a woman's reputationof chastity. A slip or two may possibly be forgiven her, and hercharacter may be clarified by subsequent and continued good conduct: buta man's moral character once tainted is irreparably destroyed. The secondwas, that you had acquired a most correct and extensive knowledge offoreign affairs, such as the history, the treaties, and the forms ofgovernment of the several countries of Europe. This sort of knowledge, little attended to here, will make you not only useful, but necessary, inyour future destination, and carry you very far. He added that you wantedfrom hence some books relative to our laws and constitution, ourcolonies, and our commerce; of which you know less than of those of anyother part of Europe. I will send you what short books I can find of thatsort, to give you a general notion of those things: but you cannot havetime to go into their depths at present--you cannot now engage with newfolios; you and I will refer the constitutional part of this country toour meeting here, when we will enter seriously into it, and read thenecessary books together. In the meantime, go on in the course you arein, of foreign matters; converse with ministers and others of everycountry, watch the transactions of every court, and endeavor to tracethem up to their source. This, with your physics, your geometry, and yourexercises, will be all that you can possibly have time for at Paris; foryou must allow a great deal for company and pleasures: it is they thatmust give you those manners, that address, that 'tournure' of the 'beaumonde', which will qualify you for your future destination. You mustfirst please, in order to get the confidence, and consequently thesecrets, of the courts and ministers for whom and with whom younegotiate. 

I will send you by the first opportunity a short book written by LordBolingbroke, under the name of Sir John Oldcastle, containing remarksupon the history of England; which will give you a clear general notionof our constitution, and which will serve you, at the same time, like allLord Bolingbroke's works, for a model of eloquence and style. I will alsosend you Sir Josiah Childe's little book upon trade, which may properlybe called the "Commercial Grammar. " He lays down the true principles ofcommerce, and his conclusions from them are generally very just. 

Since you turn your thoughts a little toward trade and commerce, which Iam very glad you do, I will recommend a French book to you, which youwill easily get at Paris, and which I take to be the best book in theworld of that kind: I mean the 'Dictionnaire de Commerce de Savory', inthree volumes in folio; where you will find every one thing that relatesto trade, commerce, specie, exchange, etc. , most clearly stated; and notonly 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 onlymean that you should have it at hand, to have recourse to occasionally. 

With this great stock of both useful and ornamental knowledge, which youhave already acquired, and which, by your application and industry, youare daily increasing, you will lay such a solid foundation of futurefigure and fortune, that if you complete it by all the accomplishments ofmanners, graces, etc. , I know nothing which you may not aim at, and intime hope for. Your great point at present at Paris, to which all otherconsiderations must give way, is to become entirely a man of fashion: tobe well-bred without ceremony, easy without negligence, steady andintrepid with modesty, genteel without affectation, insinuating withoutmeanness, cheerful without being noisy, frank without indiscretion, andsecret without mysteriousness; to know the proper time and place forwhatever you say or do, and to do it with an air of condition all this isnot so soon nor so easily learned as people imagine, but requiresobservation and time. The world is an immense folio, which demands agreat deal of time and attention to be read and understood as it ought tobe; you have not yet read above four or five pages of it; and you willhave 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 ordinarymortal to find Lord Chesterfield in gramatical error--and he did it againin the last sentence of this paragraph--but this was 1751? D. W. } to afriend of his here, that you do not frequent him so much as he expectedand desired; that he fears somebody or other has given you wrongimpressions of him; and that I may possibly think, from your being seldomat his house, that he has been wanting in his attentions to you. I toldthe person who told me this, that, on the contrary, you seemed, by yourletters to me, to be extremely pleased with Lord Albemarle's behavior toyou: but that you were obliged to give up dining abroad during yourcourse of experimental philosophy. I guessed the true reason, which Ibelieve was, that, as no French people frequent his house, you ratherchose to dine at other places, where you were likely to meet with bettercompany than your countrymen and you were in the right of it. However, Iwould have you show no shyness to Lord Albemarle, but go to him, and dinewith him oftener than it may be you would wish, for the sake of havinghim speak well of you here when he returns. He is a good deal in fashionhere, and his PUFFING you (to use an awkward expression) before youreturn here, will be of great use to you afterward. People in generaltake characters, as they do most things, upon trust, rather than be atthe trouble of examining them themselves; and the decisions of four orfive fashionable people, in every place, are final, more particularlywith regard to characters, which all can hear, and but few judge of. Donot mention the least of this to any mortal; and take care that LordAlbemarle do not suspect that you know anything of the matter. 

Lord Huntingdon and Lord Stormount are, I hear, arrived at Paris; youhave, doubtless, seen them. Lord Stormount is well spoken of here;however, in your connections, if you form any with them, show rather apreference 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 'vousetes 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 offinding, among many other good things, your docility mentioned withemphasis; this is the sure way of improving in those things, which youonly want. It is true they are little, but it is as true too that theyare necessary things. As they are mere matters of usage and mode, it isno disgrace for anybody of your age to be ignorant of them; and the mostcompendious way of learning them is, fairly to avow your ignorance, andto consult those who, from long usage and experience, know them best. Good sense and good-nature suggest civility in general; but, ingood-breeding there are a thousand little delicacies, which areestablished only by custom; and it is these little elegances of mannerswhich distinguish a courtier and a man of fashion from the vulgar. I amassured by different people, that your air is already much improved; andone of my correspondents makes you the true French compliment of saying, 'F'ose vous promettre qu'il sera bientot comme un de nos autres'. Howeverunbecoming this speech may be in the mouth of a Frenchman, I am very gladthat they think it applicable to you; for I would have you not onlyadopt, but rival, the best manners and usages of the place you are at, bethey what they will; that is the versatility of manners which is souseful in the course of the world. Choose your models well at Paris, andthen rival them in their own way. There are fashionable words, phrases, and even gestures, at Paris, which are called 'du bon ton'; not tomention 'certaines Petites politesses et attentions, qui ne sont rien enelle-memes', which fashion has rendered necessary. Make yourself masterof 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 atother courts, do the same thing there; and conform to the fashionablemanners and usage of the place; that is what the French themselves arenot apt to do; wherever they go, they retain their own manners, asthinking them the best; but, granting them to be so, they are still inthe wrong not to conform to those of the place. One would desire toplease, wherever one is; and nothing is more innocently flattering thanan 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, anddesire your professor also to attend, more particularly to the chapter ofthe 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 attendedto is, your coming into a room, and presenting yourself to a company. This gives the first impression; and the first impression is often alasting one. Therefore, pray desire Professor Marcel to make you come inand go out of his room frequently, and in the supposition of differentcompanies 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, andis respected. 

I should not so often repeat, nor so long dwell upon such trifles, withanybody that had less solid and valuable knowledge than you have. Frivolous people attend to those things, 'par preference'; they knownothing else; my fear with you is, that, from knowing better things, youshould despise these too much, and think them of much less consequencethan they really are; for they are of a great deal, and more especiallyto 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 withMadame de Berkenrode still, or has some other taken her place in youraffections? I take it for granted, that 'qua to cumque domat Venus, nonerubescendis adurit ignibus. Un arrangement honnete sied bien a un galanthomme'. In that case I recommend to you the utmost discretion, and theprofoundest silence. Bragging of, hinting at, intimating, or evenaffectedly disclaiming and denying such an arrangement will equallydiscredit you among men and women. An unaffected silence upon thatsubject is the only true medium. 

In your commerce with women, and indeed with men too, 'une certainedouceur' is particularly engaging; it is that which constitutes thatcharacter 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 thecompound result of different things; a complaisance, a flexibility, butnot a servility of manners; an air of softness in the countenance, gesture, and expression, equally whether you concur or differ with theperson you converse with. Observe those carefully who have that 'douceur'that charms you and others; and your own good sense will soon enable youto discover the different ingredients of which it is composed. You mustbe more particularly attentive to this 'douceur', whenever you areobliged to refuse what is asked of you, or to say what in itself cannotbe very agreeable to those to whom you say it. It is then the necessarygilding of a disagreeable pill. 'L'aimable' consists in a thousand ofthese little things aggregately. It is the 'suaviter in modo', which Ihave so often recommended to you. The respectable, Mr. Harte assures me, you do not want, and I believe him. Study, then, carefully; and acquireperfectly, the 'Aimable', and you will have everything. 

Abbe Guasco, who is another of your panegyrists, writes me word that hehas taken you to dinner at Marquis de St. Germain's; where you will bewelcome as often as you please, and the oftener the better. Profit ofthat, upon the principle of traveling in different countries, withoutchanging 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 throughthe several chambers of the parliament, and see and hear what they aredoing; join practice and observation to your theoretical knowledge oftheir rights and privileges. No Englishman has the least notion of them. 

I need not recommend you to go to the bottom of the constitutional andpolitical knowledge of countries; for Mr. Harte tells me that you have apeculiar turn that way, and have informed yourself most correctly ofthem. 

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 answermyself; they are upon a subject now much talked of. 

1st. Are there any particular forms requisite for the election of a Kingof the Romans, different from those which are necessary for the electionof an Emperor?

2d. Is not a King of the Romans as legally elected by the votes of amajority of the electors, as by two-thirds, or by the unanimity of theelectors?

3d. Is there any particular law or constitution of the empire, thatdistinguishes, either in matter or in, form, the election of a King ofthe Romans from that of an Emperor? And is not the golden bull of Charlesthe Fourth equally the rule for both?

4th. Were there not, at a meeting of a certain number of the electors (Ihave forgotten when), some rules and limitations agreed upon concerningthe 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, andwith a certainty of being rightly informed! It is knowledge, more thanquick, flashy parts, that makes a man of business. A man who is master ofhis matter, twill, with inferior parts, be too hard in parliament, andindeed anywhere else, for a man of-better parts, who knows his subjectbut superficially: and if to his knowledge he joins eloquence andelocution, he must necessarily soon be at the head of that assembly; butwithout those two, no knowledge is sufficient. 

Lord Huntingdon writes me word that he has seen you, and that you haverenewed your old school-acquaintance. 

Tell me fairly your opinion of him, and of his friend Lord Stormount: andalso of the other English people of fashion you meet with. I promise youinviolable 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 bea thousand-things in my letters, which I would not have any mortal livingbut yourself see or know. Those you will easily distinguish, and neithershow nor repeat; and I will do the same by you. 

To come to another subject (for I have a pleasure in talking over everysubject with you): How deep are you in Italian? Do you understandAriosto, Tasso, Boccaccio and Machiavelli? If you do, you know enough ofit and may know all the rest, by reading, when you have time. Little orno business is written in Italian, except in Italy; and if you knowenough of it to understand the few Italian letters that may in time comein your way, and to speak Italian tolerably to those very few Italianswho speak no French, give yourself no further trouble about that languagetill you happen to have full leisure to perfect yourself in it. It is notthe same with regard to German; your speaking and writing it well, willparticularly 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, bywriting four or five lines of German every day, and by speaking it toevery German you meet with. 

You have now got a footing in a great many good houses at Paris, in whichI advise you to make yourself domestic. This is to be done by a certaineasiness of carriage, and a decent familiarity. Not by way of puttingyourself upon the frivolous footing of being 'sans consequence', but bydoing in some degree, the honors of the house and table, calling yourself'en badinant le galopin d'ici', saying to the masters or mistress, 'ceciest de mon departement; je m'en charge; avouez, que je m'en acquitte amerveille. ' This sort of 'badinage' has something engaging and 'liant' init, and begets that decent familiarity, which it is both agreeable anduseful to establish in good houses and with people of fashion. Mereformal visits, dinners, and suppers, upon formal invitations, are not thething; they add to no connection nor information; but it is the easy, careless ingress and egress at all hours, that forms the pleasing andprofitable 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 havingreceived no letter from you for above a fortnight, which to my impatienceseems a long time. I expect to hear from you once a-week. Mr. Harte isgone to Cornwall, and will be back in about three weeks. I have a packetof books to send you by the first opportunity, which I believe will beMr. Yorke's return to Paris. The Greek books come from Mr. Harte, andthe English ones from your humble servant. Read Lord Bolingbroke's withgreat attention, as well to the style as to the matter. I wish you couldform yourself such a style in every language. Style is the dress ofthoughts; and a well-dressed thought, like a well-dressed man, appears togreat advantage. Yours. Adieu. 

LETTER CXXIX

LONDON, August 28, O. S. 1751

MY DEAR FRIEND: A bill for ninety pounds sterling was brought me theother day, said to be drawn upon me by you: I scrupled paying it atfirst, not upon account of the sum, but because you had sent me no letterof advice, which is always done in those transactions; and still more, because I did not perceive that you had signed it. The person whopresented it, desired me to look again, and that I should discover yourname at the bottom: accordingly I looked again, and, with the help of mymagnifying glass, did perceive that what I had first taken only forsomebody's mark, was, in truth, your name, written in the worst andsmallest hand I ever saw in my life. 

However, I paid it at a venture; though I would almost rather lose themoney, than that such a signature should be yours. All gentlemen, and allmen of business, write their names always in the same way, that theirsignature may be so well known as not to be easily counterfeited; andthey 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 happento you, while you write so ill. For instance, if you were to write insuch a character to the Secretary's office, your letter would immediatelybe 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 toan antiquarian, he (knowing you to be a man of learning) would certainlytry it by the Runic, Celtic, or Sclavonian alphabet, never suspecting itto be a modern character. And, if you were to send a 'poulet' to a finewoman, 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 hismistresses by his 'poulailler', under pretense of sending them chickens;which gave the name of poulets to those short, but expressivemanuscripts. I have often told you that every man who has the use of hiseyes and of his hand, can write whatever hand he pleases; and it is plainthat you can, since you write both the Greek and German characters, whichyou never learned of a writing-master, extremely well, though your commonhand, which you learned of a master, is an exceedingly bad and illiberalone; equally unfit for business or common use. I do not desire that youshould write the labored, stiff character of a writing-master: a man ofbusiness must write quick and well, and that depends simply upon use. Iwould 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 myword, the writing of a genteel plain hand of business is of much moreimportance than you think. You will say, it may be, that when you writeso very ill, it is because you are in a hurry, to which I answer, Why areyou ever in a hurry? A man of sense may be in haste, but can never be ina hurry, because he knows that whatever he does in a hurry, he mustnecessarily do very ill. He may be in haste to dispatch an affair, but hewill care not to let that haste hinder his doing it well. Little mindsare in a hurry, when the object proves (as it commonly does) too big forthem; 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 ofsense takes the time necessary for doing the thing he is about, well; andhis haste to dispatch a business only appears by the continuity of hisapplication to it: he pursues it with a cool steadiness, and finishes itbefore he begins any other. I own your time is much taken up, and youhave a great many different things to do; but remember that you had muchbetter do half of them well and leave the other half undone, than do themall indifferently. Moreover, the few seconds that are saved in the courseof the day, by writing ill instead of well, do not amount to an object oftime by any means equivalent to the disgrace or ridicule of writing thescrawl of a common whore. Consider, that if your very bad writing couldfurnish me with matter of ridicule, what will it not do to others who donot view you in that partial light that I do? There was a pope, I thinkit was Cardinal Chigi, who was justly ridiculed for his attention tolittle things, and his inability in great ones: and therefore calledmaximus in minimis, and minimus in maximis. Why? Because he attended tolittle things when he had great ones to do. At this particular period ofyour life, and at the place you are now in, you have only little thingsto do; and you should make it habitual to you to do them well, that theymay 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, thatyou may hereafter have nothing but your matter to think of, when you haveoccasion to write to kings and ministers. Dance, dress, present yourself, habitually well now, that you may have none of those little things tothink of hereafter, and which will be all necessary to be done welloccasionally, when you will have greater things to do. 

As I am eternally thinking of everything that can be relative to you, onething has occurred to me, which I think necessary to mention to you, inorder to prevent the difficulties which it might otherwise lay you under;it is this as you get more acquaintances at Paris, it will be impossiblefor you to frequent your first acquaintances so much as you did, whileyou had no others. As, for example, at your first 'debut', I suppose youwere chiefly at Madame Monconseil's, Lady Hervey's, and Madame duBoccage's. Now, that you have got so many other houses, you cannot be attheirs so often as you used; but pray take care not to give them theleast reason to think that you neglect, or despise them, for the sake ofnew and more dignified and shining acquaintances; which would beungrateful and imprudent on your part, and never forgiven on theirs. Callupon 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 youhave such and such engagements, with which good-breeding obliges you tocomply; 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 andconfidential friends, of which no man can hope to have half a dozen inthe whole course of his life; but I mean friends, in the commonacceptation of the word; that is, people who speak well of you, and whowould rather do you good than harm, consistently with their own interest, and no further. Upon the whole, I recommend to you, again and again, 'lesGraces'. Adorned by them, you may, in a manner, do what you please; itwill be approved of; without them, your best qualities will lose halftheir efficacy. Endeavor to be fashionable among the French, which willsoon make you fashionable here. Monsieur de Matignon already calls you'le petit Francois'. If you can get that name generally at Paris, it willput 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 everyday more and more satisfactory. Lord Albemarle has wrote a sort ofpanegyric of you, which has been seen by many people here, and which willbe a very useful forerunner for you. Being in fashion is an importantpoint for anybody anywhere; but it would be a very great one for you tobe established in the fashion here before you return. Your business willbe half done by it, as I am sure you would not give people reason tochange their favorable presentiments of you. The good that is said of youwill not, I am convinced, make you a coxcomb; and, on the other hand, thebeing thought still to want some little accomplishments, will, I ampersuaded, not mortify you, but only animate you to acquire them: I will, therefore, give you both fairly, in the following extract of a letterwhich I lately received from an impartial and discerning friend:--

"Permit me to assure you, Sir, that Mr. Stanhope will succeed. He has agreat fund of knowledge, and an uncommonly good memory, although he doesnot make any parade of either the one or the other. He is desirous ofpleasing, and he will please. He has an expressive countenance; hisfigure is elegant, although little. He has not the least awkwardness, though he has not as yet acquired all-the graces requisite; which Marceland the ladies will soon give him. In short, he wants nothing but thosethings, which, at his age, must unavoidably be wanting; I mean, a certainturn and delicacy of manners, which are to be acquired only by time, andin good company. Ready as he is, he will soon learn them; particularly ashe 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 haveboth of us the satisfaction of knowing how much you have, and how littleyou want. Let what you have give you (if possible) rather more SEEMINGmodesty, but at the same time more interior firmness and assurance; andlet what you want, which you see is very attainable, redouble yourattention and endeavors to acquire it. You have, in truth, but that onething to apply to and a very pleasing application it is, since it isthrough pleasures you must arrive at it. Company, suppers, balls, spectacles, which show you the models upon which you should formyourself, and all the little usages, customs, and delicacies, which youmust adopt and make habitual to you, are now your only schools anduniversities; in which young fellows and fine women will give you thebest lectures. 

Monsieur du Boccage is another of your panegyrists; and he tells me thatMadame Boccage 'a pris avec vous le ton de mie et de bonne'; and that youlike it very well. You are in the right of it; it is the way ofimproving; endeavor to be upon that footing with every woman you conversewith; excepting where there may be a tender point of connection; a pointwhich I have nothing to do with; but if such a one there is, I hope shehas not 'de mauvais ni de vilains bras', which I agree with you inthinking a very disagreeable thing. 

I have sent you, by the opportunity of Pollok the courier, who was oncemy servant, two little parcels of Greek and English books; and shall sendyou two more by Mr. Yorke: but I accompany them with this caution, thatas you have not much time to read, you should employ it in reading whatis the most necessary, and that is, indisputably modern historical, geographical, chronological, and political knowledge; the presentconstitution, maxims, force, riches, trade, commerce, characters, parties, and cabals of the several courts of Europe. Many who arereckoned good scholars, though they know pretty accurately thegovernments of Athens and Rome, are totally ignorant of the constitutionof any one country now in Europe, even of their own. Read just Latin andGreek enough to keep up your classical learning, which will be anornament to you while young, and a comfort to you when old. But the trueuseful knowledge, and especially for you, is the modern knowledge abovementioned. It is that must qualify you both for domestic and foreignbusiness, and it is to that, therefore, that you should principallydirect your attention; and I know, with great pleasure, that you do so. Iwould not thus commend you to yourself, if I thought commendations wouldhave upon you those ill effects, which they frequently have upon weakminds. I think you are much above being a vain coxcomb, overrating yourown merit, and insulting others with the superabundance of it. On thecontrary, I am convinced that the consciousness of merit makes a man ofsense more modest, though more firm. A man who displays his own merit isa coxcomb, and a man who does not know it is a fool. A man of sense knowsit, exerts it, avails himself of it, but never boasts of it; and alwaysSEEMS rather to under than over value it, though in truth, he sets theright value upon it. It is a very true maxim of La Bruyere's (an authorwell worth your studying), 'qu'on ne vaut dans ce monde, que ce que l'onveut valoir'. A man who is really diffident, timid, and bashful, be hismerit what it will, never can push himself in the world; his despondencythrows him into inaction; and the forward, the bustling, and thepetulant, will always get the better of him. The manner makes the wholedifference. What would be impudence in one manner, is only a proper anddecent assurance in another. A man of sense, and of knowledge in theworld, will assert his own rights, and pursue his own objects, assteadily and intrepidly as the most impudent man living, and commonlymore so; but then he has art enough to give an outward air of modesty toall he does. This engages and prevails, while the very same things shockand fail, from the overbearing or impudent manner only of doing them. Irepeat my maxim, 'Suaviter in modo, sed fortiter in re'. Would you knowthe 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 youknow man, independently of modes, read La Rochefoucault, who, I amafraid, paints him very exactly. 

Give the inclosed to Abbe Guasco, of whom you make good use, to go aboutwith you, and see things. Between you and me, he has more knowledge thanparts. 'Mais un habile homme sait tirer parti de tout', and everybody isgood for something. President Montesquieu is, in every sense, a mostuseful acquaintance. He has parts, joined to great reading and knowledgeof 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 toaccompany 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, forit is a very instructive amusement, you must certainly have observed thevery different effects which the several parts have upon you, accordingas they are well or ill acted. The very best tragedy of, Corneille's, ifwell spoken and acted, interests, engages, agitates, and affects yourpassions. Love, terror, and pity alternately possess you. But, if illspoken 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 andacting that makes this great difference in the effects. Apply this toyourself, and conclude from it, that if you would either please in aprivate 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 solidmatter and strong reasonings; and let them despise all those graces andornaments which engage the senses and captivate the heart; they will find(though they will possibly wonder why) that their rough, unpolishedmatter, and their unadorned, coarse, but strong arguments, will neitherplease nor persuade; but, on the contrary, will tire out attention, andexcite disgust. We are so made, we love to be pleased better than to beinformed; information is, in a certain degree, mortifying, as it impliesour previous ignorance; it must be sweetened to be palatable. 

To bring this directly to you: know that no man can make a figure in thiscountry, but by parliament. Your fate depends upon your success there asa speaker; and, take my word for it, that success turns much more uponmanner than matter. Mr. Pitt and Mr. Murray the solicitor-general, uncleto Lord Stormount, are, beyond comparison, the best speakers; why? onlybecause they are the best orators. They alone can inflame or quiet theHouse; they alone are so attended to, in that numerous and noisyassembly, that you might hear a pin fall while either of them isspeaking. Is it that their matter is better, or their arguments stronger, than other people's? Does the House expect extraordinary informationsfrom 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 isgenerally flimsy, and his arguments often weak; but his eloquence issuperior, his action graceful, his enunciation just and harmonious; hisperiods 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 nothis matter, made him Paymaster, in spite of both king and ministers. Fromthis draw the obvious conclusion. The same thing holds full as true inconversation; where even trifles, elegantly expressed, well looked, andaccompanied with graceful action, will ever please, beyond all thehomespun, unadorned sense in the world. Reflect, on one side, how youfeel within yourself, while you are forced to suffer the tedious, muddy, and ill-turned narration of some awkward fellow, even though the fact maybe interesting; and, on the other hand, with what pleasure you attend tothe relation of a much less interesting matter, when elegantly expressed, genteelly turned, and gracefully delivered. By attending carefully to allthese agremens in your daily conversation, they will become habitual toyou, before you come into parliament; and you will have nothing then, todo, but to raise them a little when you come there. I would wish you tobe so attentive to this object, that I, would not have you speak to yourfootman, but in the very best words that the subject admits of, be thelanguage what it will. Think of your words, and of their arrangement, before you speak; choose the most elegant, and place them in the bestorder. Consult your own ear, to avoid cacophony, and, what is very nearas bad, monotony. Think also of your gesture and looks, when you arespeaking even upon the most trifling subjects. The same things, differently expressed, looked, and delivered, cease to be the samethings. The most passionate lover in the world cannot make a strongerdeclaration of love than the 'Bourgeois gentilhomme' does in this happyform of words, 'Mourir d'amour me font belle Marquise vos beaux yeux'. Idefy anybody to say more; and yet I would advise nobody to say that, andI would recommend to you rather to smother and conceal your passionentirely than to reveal it in these words. Seriously, this holds ineverything, as well as in that ludicrous instance. The French, to do themjustice, attend very minutely to the purity, the correctness, and theelegance of their style in conversation and in their letters. 'Biennarrer' is an object of their study; and though they sometimes carry itto affectation, they never sink into inelegance, which is much the worstextreme 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 youngman, who, being just elected a member of parliament, was laughed at forbeing discovered, through the keyhole of his chamber-door, speaking tohimself in the glass, and forming his looks and gestures. I could notjoin in that laugh; but, on the contrary, thought him much wiser thanthose who laughed at him; for he knew the importance of those littlegraces in a public assembly, and they did not. Your little person (whichI am told, by the way, is not ill turned), whether in a laced coat or ablanket, is specifically the same; but yet, I believe, you choose to wearthe former, and you are in the right, for the sake of pleasing more. Theworst-bred man in Europe, if a lady let fall her fan, would certainlytake 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 pleaseby doing it gracefully; the former would be laughed at for doing itawkwardly. I repeat it, and repeat it again, and shall never ceaserepeating it to you: air, manners, graces, style, elegance, and all thoseornaments, must now be the only objects of your attention; it is now, ornever, that you must acquire them. Postpone, therefore, all otherconsiderations; make them now your serious study; you have not one momentto lose. The solid and the ornamental united, are undoubtedly best; butwere I reduced to make an option, I should without hesitation choose thelatter. 

I hope you assiduously frequent Marcell--[At that time the mostcelebrated dancing-master at Paris. ]--and carry graces from him; nobodyhad more to spare than he had formerly. Have you learned to carve? for itis ridiculous not to carve well. A man who tells you gravely that hecannot carve, may as well tell you that he cannot blow his nose: it isboth 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 hashardly time to read a letter; and my letters to those I love are, as youknow by experience, not very short ones: this is one proof of it, andthis 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 possiblenot to love anybody, and yet not to know the reason why. I think Iconceive 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 Itake it to be this: O Sabidis, you are a very worthy deserving man; youhave a thousand good qualities, you have a great deal of learning; Iesteem, I respect, but for the soul of me I cannot love you, though Icannot particularly say why. You are not aimable: you have not thoseengaging manners, those pleasing attentions, those graces, and thataddress, which are absolutely necessary to please, though impossible todefine. I cannot say it is this or that particular thing that hinders mefrom loving you; it is the whole together; and upon the whole you are notagreeable. 

How often have I, in the course of my life, found myself in thissituation, with regard to many of my acquaintance, whom I have honoredand 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 selfthe time, to analyze one's sentiments and to trace them up to theirsource. 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 meto love, that I am almost in a fever whenever I am in his company. Hisfigure (without being deformed) seems made to disgrace or ridicule thecommon structure of the human body. His legs and arms are never in theposition which, according to the situation of his body, they ought to bein, but constantly employed in committing acts of hostility upon theGraces. He throws anywhere, but down his throat, whatever he means todrink, and only mangles what he means to carve. Inattentive to all theregards of social life, he mistimes or misplaces everything. He disputeswith heat, and indiscriminately, mindless of the rank, character, andsituation of those with whom he disputes; absolutely ignorant of theseveral gradations of familiarity or respect, he is exactly the same tohis superiors, his equals, and his inferiors; and therefore, by anecessary consequence, absurd to two of the three. Is it possible to lovesuch a man? No. The utmost I can do for him, is to consider him as arespectable Hottentot. --[This 'mot' was aimed at Dr. Johnson inretaliation for his famous letter. ]

I remember, that when I came from Cambridge, I had acquired, among thepedants of that illiberal seminary, a sauciness of literature, a turn tosatire and contempt, and a strong tendency to argumentation andcontradiction. 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 adoptedthe opposite character; I concealed what learning I had; I applaudedoften, without approving; and I yielded commonly without conviction. 'Suaviter in modo' was my law and my prophets; and if I pleased (betweenyou and me) it was much more owing to that, than to any superiorknowledge or merit of my own. Apropos, the word PLEASING puts one alwaysin mind of Lady Hervey; pray tell her, that I declare her responsible tome for your pleasing; that I consider her as a pleasing Falstaff, who notonly pleases, herself, but is the cause of pleasing in others; that Iknow she can make anything of anybody; and that, as your governess, ifshe does not make you please, it must be only because she will not, andnot because she cannot. I hope you are 'dubois don't on en fait'; and ifso, she is so good a sculptor, that I am sure she can give you whateverform she pleases. A versatility of manners is as necessary in social, asa versatility of parts is in political life. One must often yield, inorder 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 theway, men are taken by the same means, 'mutatis mutandis', that women aregained--by gentleness, insinuation, and submission: and these lines ofMr. 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 oftennecessary; nay, they must be carried a little further, and exerted alittle sooner; for you should, to a certain degree, take the hue ofeither the man or the woman that you want, and wish to be upon termswith. 'A propos', have you yet found out at Paris, any friendly andhospitable Madame de Lursay, 'qui veut bien se charger du soin de vouseduquer'? And have you had any occasion of representing to her, 'qu'ellefaisoit donc des noeuds'? But I ask your pardon, Sir, for the abruptnessof the question, and acknowledge that I am meddling with matters that areout of my department. However, in matters of less importance, I desire tobe 'de vos secrets le fidele depositaire'. Trust me with the general turnand 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 themost 'etabli'? Where are you 'le petit Stanhope? Voyez vous encore jour, a quelque arrangement honnete? Have you made many acquaintances among theyoung Frenchmen who ride at your Academy; and who are they? Send to methis sort of chit-chat in your letters, which, by the bye, I wish youwould honor me with somewhat oftener. If you frequent any of the myriadsof polite Englishmen who infest Paris, who are they? Have you finishedwith Abbe Nolet, and are you 'au fait' of all the properties and effectsof 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 withl'Abbes Nolet, ask my friend l'Abbe Sallier to recommend to you somemeagre philomath, to teach you a little geometry and astronomy; notenough to absorb your attention and puzzle your intellects, but onlyenough not to be grossly ignorant of either. I have of late been a sortof 'astronome malgre moi', by bringing in last Monday into the House ofLords a bill for reforming our present Calendar and taking the New Style. Upon which occasion I was obliged to talk some astronomical jargon, ofwhich I did not understand one word, but got it by heart, and spoke it byrote 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 knowledgeof all is, to know, yourself and others: this knowledge requires greatattention and long experience; exert the former, and may you have thelatter! Adieu!

P. S. I have this moment received your letters of the 27th February, andthe 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 arelet into the 'fin fin' of the correspondence, nor indeed is it fit thatyou should, at, your age. However, use yourself to secrecy as to theletters you either read or write, that in time you may be trusted withSECRET, VERY SECRET, SEPARATE, APART, etc. I am sorry that this businessinterferes with your riding; I hope it is seldom; but I insist upon itsnot interfering with your dancing-master, who is at this time the mostuseful 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 Iwould most earnestly wish you always to retain in your thoughts, andobserve in your conduct. It is 'suaviter in modo, fortiter in re'[gentleness of manners, with firmness of mind D. W. ]. I do not know anyone rule so unexceptionably useful and necessary in every part of life. Ishall therefore take it for my text to-day, and as old men lovepreaching, and I have some right to preach to you, I here present youwith my sermon upon these words. To proceed, then, regularly andPULPITICALLY, I will first show you, my beloved, the necessary connectionof the two members of my text 'suaviter in modo: fortiter in re'. In thenext place, I shall set forth the advantages and utility resulting from astrict observance of the precept contained in my text; and conclude withan application of the whole. The 'suaviter in modo' alone woulddegenerate and sink into a mean, timid complaisance and passiveness, ifnot supported and dignified by the 'fortiter in re', which would also runinto 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 'fortiterin re'. He may, possibly, by great accident, now and then succeed, whenhe has only weak and timid people to deal with; but his general fate willbe, 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; HEBECOMES ALL THINGS TO ALL MEN; he seems to have no opinion of his own, and servilely adopts the present opinion of the present person; heinsinuates himself only into the esteem of fools, but is soon detected, and surely despised by everybody else. The wise man (who differs as muchfrom the cunning, as from the choleric man) alone joins the 'suaviter inmodo' with the 'fortiter in re'. Now to the advantages arising from thestrict observance of this precept:

If you are in authority, and have a right to command, your commandsdelivered 'suaviter in modo' will be willingly, cheerfully, andconsequently well obeyed; whereas, if given only 'fortiter', that isbrutally, they will rather, as Tacitus says, be interrupted thanexecuted. 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, hewould contrive to spill some of it upon me: and I am sure I shoulddeserve it. A cool, steady resolution should show that where you have aright to command you will be obeyed; but at the same time, a gentlenessin the manner of enforcing that obedience should make it a cheerful one, and soften as much as possible the mortifying consciousness ofinferiority. If you are to ask a favor, or even to solicit your due, youmust do it 'suaviter in modo', or you will give those who have a mind torefuse you, either a pretense to do it, by resenting the manner; but, onthe other hand, you must, by a steady perseverance and decenttenaciousness, show the 'fortiter in re'. The right motives are seldomthe true ones of men's actions, especially of kings, ministers, andpeople in high stations; who often give to importunity and fear, whatthey would refuse to justice or to merit. By the 'suaviter in modo'engage their hearts, if you can; at least prevent the pretense of offensebut take care to show enough of the 'fortiter in re' to extort from theirlove of ease, or their fear, what you might in vain hope for from theirjustice or good-nature. People in high life are hardened to the wants anddistresses of mankind, as surgeons are to their bodily pains; they seeand hear of them all day long, and even of so many simulated ones, thatthey do not know which are real, and which not. Other sentiments aretherefore to be applied to, than those of mere justice and humanity;their favor must be captivated by the 'suaviter in modo'; their love ofease disturbed by unwearied importunity, or their fears wrought upon by adecent intimation of implacable, cool resentment; this is the true'fortiter in re'. This precept is the only way I know in the world ofbeing loved without being despised, and feared without being hated. Itconstitutes the dignity of character which every wise man must endeavorto establish. 

Now to apply what has been said, and so conclude. 

If you find that you have a hastiness in your temper, which unguardedlybreaks out into indiscreet sallies, or rough expressions, to either yoursuperiors, your equals, or your inferiors, watch it narrowly, check itcarefully, and call the 'suaviter in modo' to your assistance: at thefirst impulse of passion, be silent till you can be soft. Labor even toget the command of your countenance so well, that those emotions may notbe read in it; a most unspeakable advantage in business! On the otherhand, let no complaisance, no gentleness of temper, no weak desire ofpleasing on your part, --no wheedling, coaxing, nor flattery, on otherpeople's, --make you recede one jot from any point that reason andprudence have bid you pursue; but return to the charge, persist, persevere, and you will find most things attainable that are possible. Ayielding, timid meekness is always abused and insulted by the unjust andthe unfeeling; but when sustained by the 'fortiter in re', is alwaysrespected, commonly successful. In your friendships and connections, aswell as in your enmities, this rule is particularly useful; let yourfirmness and vigor preserve and invite attachments to you; but, at thesame time, let your manner hinder the enemies of your friends anddependents from becoming yours; let your enemies be disarmed by thegentleness of your manner, but let them feel, at the same time, thesteadiness of your just resentment; for there is a great differencebetween bearing malice, which is always ungenerous, and a resoluteself-defense, which is always prudent and justifiable. In negotiationswith foreign ministers, remember the 'fortiter in re'; give up no point, accept of no expedient, till the utmost necessity reduces you to it, andeven then, dispute the ground inch by inch; but then, while you arecontending with the minister 'fortiter in re', remember to gain the manby the 'suaviter in modo'. If you engage his heart, you have a fairchance for imposing upon his understanding, and determining his will. Tell him, in a frank, gallant manner, that your ministerial wrangles donot 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. Bythese means you may, and will very often be a gainer: you never can be aloser. Some people cannot gain upon themselves to be easy and civil tothose who are either their rivals, competitors, or opposers, though, independently of those accidental circumstances, they would like andesteem them. They betray a shyness and an awkwardness in company withthem, and catch at any little thing to expose them; and so, fromtemporary and only occasional opponents, make them their personalenemies. This is exceedingly weak and detrimental, as indeed is all humorin business; which can only be carried on successfully by, unadulteratedgood policy and right reasoning. In such situations I would be moreparticularly and 'noblement', civil, easy, and frank with the man whosedesigns I traversed: this is commonly called generosity and magnanimity, but is, in truth, good sense and policy. The manner is often as importantas the matter, sometimes more so; a favor may make an enemy, and aninjury may make a friend, according to the different manner in which theyare severally done. The countenance, the address, the words, theenunciation, the Graces, add great efficacy to the 'suaviter in modo', and great dignity to the 'fortiter in re', and consequently they deservethe utmost attention. 

From what has been said, I conclude with this observation, thatgentleness of manners, with firmness of mind, is a short, but fulldescription of human perfection on this side of religious and moralduties. That you may be seriously convinced of this truth, and show it inyour 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, inwhich he joins his representations to those of Lord Albemarle, againstyour 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 allyour other masters, as your lodgings will probably be, I agree to yourremoving to an 'hotel garni'; the Abbe will help you to find one, as Idesire him by the inclosed, which you will give him. I must, however, annex one condition to your going into private lodgings, which is anabsolute exclusion of English breakfasts and suppers at them; the formerconsume the whole morning, and the latter employ the evenings very ill, in senseless toasting a l'Angloise in their infernal claret. You will besure to go to the riding-house as often as possible, that is, wheneveryour new business at Lord Albemarle's does not hinder you. But, at allevents, I insist upon your never missing Marcel, who is at present ofmore consequence to you than all the bureaux in Europe; for this is thetime for you to acquire 'tous ces petits riens', which, though in anarithmetical account, added to one another 'ad infinitum', they wouldamount to nothing, in the account of the world amount to a great andimportant sum. 'Les agremens et les graces', without which you will neverbe anything, are absolutely made up of all those 'riens', which are moreeasily felt than described. By the way, you may take your lodgings forone whole year certain, by which means you may get them much cheaper; forthough I intend to see you here in less than a year, it will be but for alittle time, and you will return to Paris again, where I intend you shallstay till the end of April twelvemonth, 1752, at which time, provided youhave got all 'la politesse, les manieres, les attentions, et les gracesdu beau monde', I shall place you in some business suitable to yourdestination. 

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 inall the figures of the original. I will hang it up, where it shall beyour own again some time or other. 

Mr. Harte is returned in perfect health from Cornwall, and has takenpossession 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, thestrongest sentiments of gratitude and friendship for him. Write to himfrequently, and attend to the letters you receive from him. He shall bewith us at Blackheath, alias BABIOLE, all the time that I propose youshall be there, which I believe will be the month of August next. 

Having thus mentioned to you the probable time of our meeting, I willprepare you a little for it. Hatred; jealousy, or envy, make, most peopleattentive to discover the least defects of those they do not love; theyrejoice at every new discovery they make of that kind, and take care topublish it. I thank God, I do not know what those three ungenerouspassions are, having never felt them in my own breast; but love has justthe same effect upon me, except that I conceal, instead of publishing, the defeats which my attention makes me discover in those I love. Icuriously pry into them; I analyze them; and, wishing either to find themperfect, or to make them so, nothing escapes me, and I soon discoverevery the least gradation toward or from that perfection. You musttherefore expect the most critical 'examen' that ever anybody underwent. I shall discover your least, as well as your greatest defects, and Ishall 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 Iwill tell them to nobody else. I think it but fair to inform youbeforehand, where I suspect that my criticisms are likely to fall; andthat is more upon the outward, than upon the inward man; I neithersuspect your heart nor your head; but to be plain with you, I have astrange 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 mustdo the honors of my house and table; the least inaccuracy or inelegancewill not escape me; as you will find by a LOOK at the time, and by aremonstrance afterward when we are alone. You will see a great deal ofcompany of all sorts at BABIOLE, and particularly foreigners. Make, therefore, in the meantime, all these exterior and ornamentalqualifications your peculiar care, and disappoint all my imaginaryschemes of criticism. Some authors have criticised their own works first, in hopes of hindering others from doing it afterward: but then they do itthemselves with so much tenderness and partiality for their ownproduction, that not only the production itself, but the preventivecriticism is criticised. I am not one of those authors; but, on thecontrary, my severity increases with my fondness for my work; and if youwill but effectually correct all the faults I shall find, I will insureyou from all subsequent criticisms from other quarters. 

Are you got a little into the interior, into the constitution of thingsat 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 yougo to les Invalides, do you content yourself with seeing the building, the hall where three or four hundred cripples dine, and the gallerieswhere they lie? or do you inform yourself of the numbers, the conditionsof their admission, their allowance, the value and nature of the fund bywhich the whole is supported? This latter I call seeing, the former isonly starting. Many people take the opportunity of 'les vacances', to goand see the empty rooms where the several chambers of the parliament didsit; which rooms are exceedingly like all other large rooms; when you gothere, let it be when they are full; see and hear what is doing in them;learn their respective constitutions, jurisdictions, objects, and methodsof proceeding; hear some causes tried in every one of the differentchambers; '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 ofFrance. ]--of whom I hear a very good character. How are you with theother foreign ministers at Paris? Do you frequent the Dutch Ambassador orAmbassadress? Have you any footing at the Nuncio's, or at the Imperialand Spanish ambassadors? It is useful. Be more particular in your lettersto 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 abill into the House of Lords for correcting and reforming our presentcalendar, which is the Julian, and for adopting the Gregorian. I will nowgive you a more particular account of that affair; from which reflectionswill naturally occur to you that I hope may be useful, and which I fearyou have not made. It was notorious, that the Julian calendar waserroneous, and had overcharged the solar year with eleven days. PopeGregory the Thirteenth corrected this error; his reformed calendar wasimmediately received by all the Catholic powers of Europe, and afterwardadopted by all the Protestant ones, except Russia, Sweden, and England. It was not, in my opinion, very honorable for England to remain, in agross and avowed error, especially in such company; the inconveniency ofit was likewise felt by all those who had foreign correspondences, whether political or mercantile. I determined, therefore, to attempt thereformation; I consulted the best lawyers and the most skillfulastronomers, and we cooked up a bill for that purpose. But then mydifficulty began: I was to bring in this bill, which was necessarilycomposed of law jargon and astronomical calculations, to both which I aman utter stranger. However, it was absolutely necessary to make the Houseof Lords think that I knew something of the matter; and also to make thembelieve that they knew something of it themselves, which they do not. Formy own part, I could just as soon have talked Celtic or Sclavonian tothem as astronomy, and they would have understood me full as well: so Iresolved to do better than speak to the purpose, and to please instead ofinforming them. I gave them, therefore, only an historical account ofcalendars, from the Egyptian down to the Gregorian, amusing them now andthen with little episodes; but I was particularly attentive to the choiceof my words, to the harmony and roundness of my periods, to my elocution, to my action. This succeeded, and ever will succeed; they thought Iinformed, because I pleased them; and many of them said that I had madethe whole very clear to them; when, God knows, I had not even attemptedit. 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 sointricate a matter would admit of: but as his words, his periods, and hisutterance, were not near so good as mine, the preference was mostunanimously, though most unjustly, given to me. This will ever be thecase; every numerous assembly is MOB, let the individuals who compose itbe what they will. Mere reason and good sense is never to be talked to amob; their passions, their sentiments, their senses, and their seeminginterests, are alone to be applied to. Understanding they havecollectively none, but they have ears and eyes, which must be flatteredand 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 speakingplain and unadorned sense and reason will do your business, you will findyourself most grossly mistaken. As a speaker, you will be ranked onlyaccording to your eloquence, and by no means according to your matter;everybody knows the matter almost alike, but few can adorn it. I wasearly convinced of the importance and powers of eloquence; and from thatmoment I applied myself to it. I resolved not to utter one word, even incommon conversation, that should not be the most expressive and the mostelegant that the language could supply me with for that purpose; by whichmeans I have acquired such a certain degree of habitual eloquence, that Imust now really take some pains, if, I would express myself veryinelegantly. I want to inculcate this known truth into you, which, youseem by no means to be convinced of yet, that ornaments are at presentyour only objects. Your sole business now is to shine, not to weigh. Weight without lustre is lead. You had better talk trifles elegantly tothe most trifling woman, than coarse in elegant sense to the most solidman; you had better, return a dropped fan genteelly, than give a thousandpounds awkwardly; and you had better refuse a favor gracefully, than togrant it clumsily. Manner is all, in everything: it is by manner onlythat you can please, and consequently rise. All your Greek will neveradvance you from secretary to envoy, or from envoy to ambassador; butyour address, your manner, your air, if good, very probably may. Marcelcan 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 inspeaking 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, whichyou have, over and-over again, with particular attention to his style. Transcribe, imitate, emulate it, if possible: that would be of real useto you in the House of Commons, in negotiations, in conversation; withthat, 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 ofit. Upon the whole, lay aside, during your year's residence at Paris, allthoughts of all that dull fellows call solid, and exert your utmost careto acquire what people of fashion call shining. 'Prenez l'eclat et lebrillant 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; itis neither the hand of a man of business, nor of a gentleman, but of atruant school-boy; as soon, therefore, as you have done with Abbe Nolet, pray get an excellent writing-master (since you think that you cannotteach yourself to write what hand you please), and let him teach you towrite a genteel, legible, liberal hand, and quick; not the hand of aprocureur or a writing-master, but that sort of hand in which the first'Commis' in foreign bureaus commonly write; for I tell you truly, thatwere I Lord Albemarle, nothing should remain in my bureau written in yourpresent hand. From hand to arms the transition is natural; is thecarriage and motion of your arms so too? The motion of the arms is themost material part of a man's air, especially in dancing; the feet arenot near so material. If a man dances well from the waist upward, wearshis hat well, and moves his head properly, he dances well. Do the womensay 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 toplease. 

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 verycivil to him, but do not carry him into company, except presenting him toLord Albemarle; for, as he is not to stay at Paris above a week, we donot desire that he should taste of that dissipation: you may show him aplay 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 isnow, and ought to be, your business. While you were younger, dry rules, and unconnected words, were the unpleasant objects of your labors. Whenyou grow older, the anxiety, the vexations, the disappointmentsinseparable from public business, will require the greatest share of yourtime 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 sowell employed as in the pleasures of a gentleman. The world is now theonly book you want, and almost the only one you ought to read: thatnecessary 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 themanners of good company. In premeditated, or in formal business, peopleconceal, or at least endeavor to conceal, their characters: whereaspleasures discover them, and the heart breaks out through the guard ofthe understanding. Those are often propitious moments for skillfulnegotiators to improve. In your destination particularly, the ableconduct of pleasures is of infinite use; to keep a good table, and to dothe honors of it gracefully, and 'sur le ton de la bonne compagnie', isabsolutely necessary for a foreign minister. There is a certain lighttable 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 itmay be trifling; but, trifling as it is, a man of parts and experience ofthe world will give an agreeable turn to it. 'L'art de badineragreablement' is by no means to be despised. 

An engaging address, and turn to gallantry, is often of very greatservice to foreign ministers. Women have, directly or indirectly; a gooddeal to say in most courts. The late Lord Strafford governed, for aconsiderable time, the Court of Berlin and made his own fortune, by beingwell with Madame de Wartenberg, the first King of Prussia's mistress. Icould name many other instances of that kind. That sort of agreeable'caquet de femmes', the necessary fore-runners of closer conferences, isonly to be got by frequenting women of the first fashion, 'et, quidonnent le ton'. Let every other book then give way to this great andnecessary book, the world, of which there are so many various readings, that it requires a great deal of time and attention to under stand itwell: contrary to all other books, you must not stay home, but go abroadto read it; and when you seek it abroad, you will not find it inbooksellers' shops and stalls, but in courts, in hotels, atentertainments, balls, assemblies, spectacles, etc. Put yourself upon thefooting of an easy, domestic, but polite familiarity and intimacy in theseveral French houses to which you have been introduced: Cultivate them, frequent them, and show a desire of becoming 'enfant de la maison'. Getacquainted 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 themidst of their pleasures. Courts, alone, teach versatility andpoliteness; for there is no living there without them. Lord Albermarlehas, I hear, and am very glad of it, put you into the hands of Messieursde Bissy. Profit of that, and beg of them to let you attend them in allthe companies of Versailles and Paris. One of them, at least, willnaturally carry you to Madame de la Valiores, unless he is discarded bythis time, and Gelliot--[A famous opera-singer at Paris. ]--retaken. Tellthem frankly, 'que vous cherchez a vous former, que vous etes en mains demaitres, s'ils veulent bien s'en donner la peine'. Your profession hasthis agreeable peculiarity in it, which is, that it is connected with, and promoted by pleasures; and it is the only one in which a thoroughknowledge of the world, polite manners, and an engaging address, areabsolutely necessary. If a lawyer knows his law, a parson his divinity, and a financier his calculations, each may make a figure and a fortune inhis profession, without great knowledge of the world, and without themanners of gentlemen. But your profession throws you into all theintrigues and cabals, as well as pleasures, of courts: in those windingsand labyrinths, a knowledge of the world, a discernment of characters, asuppleness and versatility of mind, and an elegance of manners, must beyour 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. Theseare the arts and the accomplishments absolutely necessary for a foreignminister; in which it must be owned, to our shame, that most othernations outdo the English; and, 'caeteris paribus', a French ministerwill get the better of an English one at any third court in Europe. TheFrench have something more 'liant', more insinuating and engaging intheir manner, than we have. An English minister shall have resided sevenyears at a court, without having made any one personal connection there, or without being intimate and domestic in any one house. He is always theEnglish minister, and never naturalized. He receives his orders, demandsan audience, writes an account of it to his Court, and his business isdone. A French minister, on the contrary, has not been six weeks at acourt without having, by a thousand little attentions, insinuated himselfinto some degree of favor with the Prince, his wife, his mistress, hisfavorite, and his minister. He has established himself upon a familiarand domestic footing in a dozen of the best houses of the place, where hehas 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 heknows the interior of those courts, and can almost write prophecies tohis own, from the knowledge he has of the characters, the humors, theabilities, or the weaknesses of the actors. The Cardinal d'Ossat waslooked upon at Rome as an Italian, and not as a French cardinal; andMonsieur d'Avaux, wherever he went, was never considered as a foreignminister, but as a native, and a personal friend. Mere plain truth, sense, and knowledge, will by no means do alone in courts; art andornaments must come to their assistance. Humors must be flattered; the'mollia tempora' must be studied and known: confidence acquired byseeming frankness, and profited of by silent skill. And, above all; youmust gain and engage the heart, to betray the understanding to you. 'Hatibi erunt artes'. 

The death of the Prince of Wales, who was more beloved for his affabilityand good-nature than esteemed for his steadiness and conduct, has givenconcern to many, and apprehensions to all. The great difference of theages of the King and Prince George presents the prospect of a minority; adisagreeable prospect for any nation! But it is to be hoped, and is mostprobable, that the King, who is now perfectly recovered of his lateindisposition, may live to see his grandson of age. He is, seriously, amost hopeful boy: gentle and good-natured, with good sound sense. Thisevent has made all sorts of people here historians, as well aspoliticians. Our histories are rummaged for all the particularcircumstances of the six minorities we have had since the Conquest, viz, those of Henry III. , Edward III. , Richard II. , Henry VI. , Edward V. , andEdward VI. ; and the reasonings, the speculations, the conjectures, andthe predictions, you will easily imagine, must be innumerable andendless, in this nation, where every porter is a consummate politician. Dr. Swift says, very humorously, that "Every man knows that heunderstands religion and politics, though he never learned them; but thatmany people are conscious that they do not understand many othersciences, from having never learned them. " Adieu. 

LETTER CXXXVII

LONDON, April 7, O. S. 1751

MY DEAR FRIEND: Here you have, altogether, the pocketbooks, thecompasses, and the patterns. When your three Graces have made theiroption, you need only send me, in a letter small pieces of the threemohairs they fix upon. If I can find no way of sending them safely anddirectly to Paris, I will contrive to have them left with Madame Morel, at Calais, who, being Madame Monconseil's agent there, may find means offurthering them to your three ladies, who all belong to your friendMadame Monconseil. Two of the three, I am told, are handsome; MadamePolignac, I can swear, is not so; but, however, as the world goes, twoout of three is a very good composition. 

You will also find in the packet a compass ring set round with littlediamonds, which I advise you to make a present of to Abbe Guasco, who hasbeen 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 ithim first, and, when he commends it, as probably he will, tell him thatit is at his service, 'et que comme il est toujours par vole et parchemins, il est absolument necessaire qu'il ale une boussole'. All thoselittle gallantries depend entirely upon the manner of doing them; as, intruth, what does not? The greatest favors may be done so awkwardly andbunglingly as to offend; and disagreeable things may be done so agreeablyas almost to oblige. Endeavor to acquire this great secret; it exists, itis to be found, and is worth a great deal more than the grand secret ofthe alchemists would be if it were, as it is not, to be found. This isonly to be learned in courts, where clashing views, jarring opinions, andcordial hatreds, are softened and kept within decent bounds by politenessand manners. Frequent, observe, and learn courts. Are you free of that ofSt. Cloud? Are you often at Versailles? Insinuate and wriggle yourselfinto favor at those places. L'Abbe de la Ville, my old friend, will helpyou at the latter; your three ladies may establish you in the former. Thegood-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, thatof the court is, without doubt, the most necessary for you, who are tolive, to grow, and to rise in courts. In two years' time, which will beas soon as you are fit for it, I hope to be able to plant you in the soilof a YOUNG COURT here: where, if you have all the address, the supplenessand versatility of a good courtier, you will have a great chance ofthriving and flourishing. Young favor is easily acquired if the propermeans are employed; and, when acquired, it is warm, if not durable; andthe warm moments must be snatched and improved. 'Quitte pour ce qui enpent arriver apres'. Do not mention this view of mine for you to any onemortal; but learn to keep your own secrets, which, by the way, very fewpeople can do. 

If your course of experimental philosophy with Abbe Nolot is over, Iwould have you apply to Abbe Sallier, for a master to give you a generalnotion 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 youshould have a clear notion of the present planetary system, and thehistory of all the former systems. Fontenelle's 'Pluralites des Mondes'will almost teach you all you need know upon that subject. As forgeometry, the seven first books of Euclid will be a sufficient portion ofit for you. It is right to have a general notion of those abstrusesciences, so as not to appear quite ignorant of them, when they happen, as sometimes they do, to be the topics of conversation; but a deepknowledge of them requires too much time, and engrosses the mind toomuch. I repeat it again and again to you, Let the great book of the worldbe your principal study. 'Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna'; whichmay be rendered thus in English: Turn Over MEN BY DAY, AND WOMEN BYNIGHT. I mean only the best editions. 

Whatever may be said at Paris of my speech upon the bill for thereformation of the present calendar, or whatever applause it may have metwith here, the whole, I can assure you, is owing to the words and to thedelivery, but by no means to the matter; which, as I told you in a formerletter, I was not master of. I mention this again, to show you theimportance of well-chosen words, harmonious periods, and good delivery;for, between you and me, Lord Macclefield's speech was, in truth, worth athousand of mine. It will soon be printed, and I will send it you. It isvery instructive. You say, that you wish to speak but half as well as Idid; you may easily speak full as well as ever I did, if you will butgive the same attention to the same objects that I did at your age, andfor many years afterward; I mean correctness, purity, and elegance ofstyle, harmony of periods, and gracefulness of delivery. Read over andover again the third book of 'Cicero de Oratore', in which heparticularly treats of the ornamental parts of oratory; they are indeedproperly oratory, for all the rest depends only upon common sense, andsome knowledge of the subject you speak upon. But if you would please, persuade, and prevail in speaking, it must be by the ornamental parts oforatory. Make them therefore habitual to you; and resolve never to saythe most common things, even to your footman, but in the best words youcan find, and with the best utterance. This, with 'les manieres, latournure, 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 toconstitute an amiable man? Do you take them, do you make a progress inthem? The great secret is the art of pleasing; and that art is to beattained by every man who has a good fund of common sense. If you arepleased with any person, examine why; do as he does; and you will charmothers 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 towomen. Vanity is unquestionably the ruling passion in women; and it ismuch flattered by the attentions of a man who is generally esteemed bymen; when his merit has received the stamp of their approbation, womenmake 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 estimableamong men, but will never be amiable. The concurrence of the two sexes isas 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 acquirefrom them the softness and the graces of theirs. Men will then addaffection to the esteem which they before had for you. Women are the onlyrefiners of the merit of men; it is true, they cannot add weight, butthey polish and give lustre to it. 'A propos', I am assured, that Madamede Blot, although she has no great regularity of features, is, notwithstanding, excessively pretty; and that, for all that, she has asyet been scrupulously constant to her husband, though she has now beenmarried above a year. Surely she does not reflect, that woman wantspolishing. I would have you polish one another reciprocally. Force, assiduities, attentions, tender looks, and passionate declarations, onyour side will produce some irresolute wishes, at least, on hers; andwhen even the slightest wishes arise, the rest will soon follow. 

As I take you to be the greatest 'juris peritus' and politician of thewhole Germanic body, I suppose you will have read the King of Prussia'sletter to the Elector of Mayence, upon the election of a King of theRomans; and on the other side, a memorial entitled, IMPARTIALREPRESENTATION OF WHAT IS JUST WITH REGARD TO THE ELECTION OF A KING OFTHE ROMANS, etc. The first is extremely well written, but not groundedupon 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 someGerman, who has taken into his head that he understands French. I am, however, persuaded that the elegance and delicacy of the King ofPrussia's letter will prevail with two-thirds of the public, in spite ofthe solidity and truth contained in the other piece. Such is the force ofan elegant and delicate style!

I wish you would be so good as to give me a more particular andcircumstantial account of the method of passing your time at Paris. Forinstance, where it is that you dine every Friday, in company with thatamiable and respectable old man, Fontenelle? Which is the house where youthink yourself at home? For one always has such a one, where one isbetter established, and more at ease than anywhere else. Who are theyoung Frenchmen with whom you are most intimately connected? Do youfrequent the Dutch Ambassador's. Have you penetrated yet into CountCaunitz's house? Has Monsieur de Pignatelli the honor of being one ofyour humble servants? And has the Pope's nuncio included you in thejubilee? Tell me also freely how you are with Lord Huntingdon: Do you seehim often? Do you connect yourself with him? Answer all these questionscircumstantially in your first letter. 

I am told that Du Clos's book is not in vogue at Paris, and that it isviolently criticised: I suppose that is because one understands it; andbeing intelligible is now no longer the fashion. I have a very greatrespect for fashion, but a much greater for this book; which is, all atonce, true, solid, and bright. It contains even epigrams; what can onewish for more?

Mr. ------will, I suppose, have left Paris by this time for his residenceat Toulouse. I hope he will acquire manners there; I am sure he wantsthem. He is awkward, he is silent, and has nothing agreeable in hisaddress, --most necessary qualifications to distinguish one's self inbusiness, as well as in the POLITE WORLD! In truth, these two things areso connected, that a man cannot make a figure in business, who is notqualified to shine in the great world; and to succeed perfectly in eitherthe 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 atParis next week, in their way to the south of France; I send you a littlepacket of books by them. Pray go wait upon them, as soon as you hear oftheir 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 distinguishingeye hindered the King of Poland from buying a bad picture at Venice, andwhose 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 al'aimable de Tableaux des plus Grands Maitres, appartenans au SieurAraignon Aperen, valet de chambre de la Reine, sur le quai de laMegisserie, au coin de Arche Marion'. There I observe two large picturesof 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 theother that they come cheap. To ascertain the first (but withoutdisparaging your skill), I wish you would get some undoubted connoisseursto examine them carefully: and if, upon such critical examination, theyshould be unanimously allowed to be undisputed originals of Titian, andwell preserved, then comes the second point, the price: I will not goabove two hundred pounds sterling for the two together; but as much lessas you can get them for. I acknowledge that two hundred pounds seems tobe a very small sum for two undoubted Titians of that size; but, on theother hand, as large Italian pictures are now out of fashion at Paris, where fashion decides of everything, and as these pictures are too largefor common rooms, they may possibly come within the price above limited. I leave the whole of this transaction (the price excepted, which I willnot exceed) to your consummate skill and prudence, with proper advicejoined to them. Should you happen to buy them for that price, carry themto your own lodgings, and get a frame made to the second, which I observehas none, exactly the same with the other frame, and have the old one newgilt; 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 amvery glad of it; it gives a degree of reputation, especially at Paris;and their conversation is generally instructive, though sometimesaffected. It must be owned, that the polite conversation of the men andwomen of fashion at Paris, though not always very deep, is much lessfutile and frivolous than ours here. It turns at least upon some subject, something of taste, some point of history, criticism, and evenphilosophy; which, though probably not quite so solid as Mr. Locke's, is, however, better, and more becoming rational beings, than our frivolousdissertations upon the weather, or upon whist. Monsieur du Clos observes, and I think very justly, 'qu'il y a a present en France une fermentationuniverselle de la raison qui tend a se developper'. Whereas, I am sorryto say, that here that fermentation seems to have been over some yearsago, the spirit evaporated, and only the dregs left. Moreover, 'les beauxesprits' at Paris are commonly well-bred, which ours very frequently arenot; with the former your manners will be formed; with the latter, witmust generally be compounded for at the expense of manners. Are youacquainted with Marivaux, who has certainly studied, and is wellacquainted with the heart; but who refines so much upon its 'plis etreplis', and describes them so affectedly, that he often isunintelligible to his readers, and sometimes so, I dare say, to himself?Do you know 'Crebillon le fils'? He is a fine painter and a pleasingwriter; his characters are admirable and his reflections just. Frequentthese people, and be glad, but not proud of frequenting them: never boastof it, as a proof of your own merit, nor insult, in a manner, othercompanies by telling them affectedly what you, Montesquieu and Fontenellewere talking of the other day; as I have known many people do here, withregard to Pope and Swift, who had never been twice in company witheither; nor carry into other companies the 'ton' of those meetings of'beaux esprits'. Talk literature, taste, philosophy, etc. , with them, 'ala 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 whichno one is above or below discussion. The point is, to talk well upon thesubject you talk upon; and the most trifling, frivolous subjects willstill give a man of parts an opportunity of showing them. 'L'usage dugrand monde' can alone teach that. That was the distinguishingcharacteristic of Alcibiades, and a happy one it was, that he couldoccasionally, and with so much ease, adopt the most different, and eventhe most opposite habits and manners, that each seemed natural to him. Prepare yourself for the great world, as the 'athletae' used to do fortheir exercises: oil (if I may use that expression) your mind and yourmanners, to give them the necessary suppleness and flexibility; strengthalone 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 assautaux 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 havefrequent 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, fromtwo good judges, have put me into great spirits, as they have given mereasonable 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 offashion. As these two pictures of you are very unlike that which Ireceived, and sent you some months ago, I will name the two painters: thefirst is an old friend and acquaintance of mine, Monsieur d'Aillon. Hispicture is, I hope, like you; for it is a very good one: MonsieurTollot's is still a better, and so advantageous a one, that I will notsend you a copy of it, for fear of making you too vain. So far only Iwill 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, whichraises the colors, and gives brilliancy to the piece. Be persuaded thathe will acquire it: he has too much sense not to know its value; and if Iam not greatly mistaken, more persons than one are now endeavoring togive it him. Monsieur Tollot says: "In order to be exactly all that youwish him, he only wants those little nothings, those graces in detail, and that amiable ease, which can only be acquired by usage of the greatworld. I am assured that he is, in that respect, in good hands. I do notknow whether that does not rather imply in fine arms. " Without enteringinto a nice discussion of the last question, I congratulate you andmyself upon your being so near that point at which I so anxiously wishyou to arrive. I am sure that all your attention and endeavors will beexerted; and, if exerted, they will succeed. Mr. Tollot says, that youare inclined to be fat, but I hope you will decline it as much as youcan; not by taking anything corrosive to make you lean, but by taking aslittle as you can of those things that would make you fat. Drink nochocolate; take your coffee without cream: you cannot possibly avoidsuppers at Paris, unless you avoid company too, which I would by no meanshave you do; but eat as little at supper as you can, and make even anallowance for that little at your dinners. Take occasionally a doubledose of riding and fencing; and now that summer is come, walk a good dealin the Tuileries. It is a real inconvenience to anybody to be fat, andbesides it is ungraceful for a young fellow. 'A propos', I had like tohave forgot to tell you, that I charged Tollot to attend particularly toyour utterence and diction; two points of the utmost importance. To thefirst he says: "His enunciation is not bad, but it is to be wished thatit were still better; and he expresses himself with more fire thanelegance. Usage of good company will instruct him likewise in that. "These, I allow, are all little things, separately; but aggregately, theymake a most important and great article in the account of a gentleman. Inthe House of Commons you can never make a figure without elegance ofstyle, and gracefulness of utterance; and you can never succeed as acourtier at your own Court, or as a minister at any other, without thoseinnumerable '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 todisgust, in the least, Lord Albemarle, who may possibly dislike yourconsidering Mr. Yorke as the man of business, and him as only 'pour ornerla scene'. Whatever your opinion may be upon THAT POINT, take care not tolet it appear; but be well with them both by showing no public preferenceto either. 

Though I must necessarily fall into repetitions by treating the samesubject so often, I cannot help recommending to you again the utmostattention to your air and address. Apply yourself now to Marcel'slectures, as diligently as you did formerly to Professor Mascow's; desirehim to teach you every genteel attitude that the human body can be putinto; let him make you go in and out of his room frequently, and presentyourself to him, as if he were by turns different persons; such as aminister, a lady, a superior, an equal, and inferior, etc. Learn to seatgenteelly in different companies; to loll genteelly, and with goodmanners, in those companies where you are authorized to be free, and tosit up respectfully where the same freedom is not allowable. Learn evento compose your countenance occasionally to the respectful, the cheerful, and the insinuating. Take particular care that the motions of your handsand arms be easy and graceful; for the genteelness of a man consists morein them than in anything else, especially in his dancing. Desire somewomen to tell you of any little awkwardness that they observe in yourcarriage; they are the best judges of those things; and if they aresatisfied, the men will be so too. Think now only of the decorations. Areyou acquainted with Madame Geoffrain, who has a great deal of wit; andwho, I am informed, receives only the very best company in her house? Doyou know Madame du Pin, who, I remember, had beauty, and I hear has witand reading? I could wish you to converse only with those who, eitherfrom their rank, their merit, or their beauty, require constantattention; for a young man can never improve in company where he thinkshe may neglect himself. A new bow must be constantly kept bent; when itgrows older, and has taken the right turn, it may now and then berelaxed. 

I have this moment paid your draft of L89 75s. ; it was signed in a verygood hand; which proves that a good hand may be written without theassistance of magic. Nothing provokes me much more, than to hear peopleindolently 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 theirown works; they revise, correct, file, and polish them, till they thinkthey have brought them to perfection. Considering you as my work, I donot look upon myself as a bad author, and am therefore a severe critic. Iexamine narrowly into the least inaccuracy or inelegance, in order tocorrect, 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 forfurther improvement before you come to that perfection which I have setmy heart upon seeing you arrive at; and till that moment I must continuefiling and polishing. In a letter that I received by last post, from afriend of yours at Paris, there was this paragraph: "I have the honor toassure you, without flattery, that Mr. Stanhope succeeds beyond whatmight be expected from a person of his age. He goes into very goodcompany; and that kind of manner, which was at first thought to be toodecisive and peremptory, is now judged otherwise; because it isacknowledged to be the effect of an ingenuous frankness, accompanied bypoliteness, and by a proper deference. He studies to please, andsucceeds. Madame du Puisieux was the other day speaking of him withcomplacency and friendship. You will be satisfied with him in allrespects. " This is extremely well, and I rejoice at it: one littlecircumstance only may, and I hope will, be altered for the better. Takepains to undeceive those who thought that 'petit ton un peu delcide et unpeu brusque'; as it is not meant so, let it not appear so. Compose yourcountenance to an air of gentleness and 'douceur', use some expressionsof diffidence of your own opinion, and deference to other people's; suchas, "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. " Suchmitigating, engaging words do by no means weaken your argument; but, onthe contrary, make it more powerful by making it more pleasing. If it isa quick and hasty manner of speaking that people mistake 'pour decide etbrusque', prevent their mistakes for the future by speaking moredeliberately, and taking a softer tone of voice; as in this case you arefree from the guilt, be free from the suspicion, too. Mankind, as I haveoften told you, are more governed by appearances than by realities; andwith regard to opinion, one had better be really rough and hard, with theappearance of gentleness and softness, than just the reverse. Few peoplehave penetration enough to discover, attention enough to observe, or evenconcern enough to examine beyond the exterior; they take their notionsfrom the surface, and go no deeper: they commend, as the gentlest andbest-natured man in the world, that man who has the most engagingexterior manner, though possibly they have been but once in his company. An air, a tone of voice, a composure of countenance to mildness andsoftness, which are all easily acquired, do the business: and withoutfurther examination, and possibly with the contrary qualities, that manis reckoned the gentlest, the modestest, and the best-natured man alive. Happy the man, who, with a certain fund of parts and knowledge, getsacquainted with the world early enough to make it his bubble, at an agewhen most people are the bubbles of the world! for that is the commoncase of youth. They grow wiser when it is too late; and, ashamed andvexed at having been bubbles so long, too often turn knaves at last. Donot therefore trust to appearances and outside yourself, but pay otherpeople 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 blamablesimulation, if not used with an ill intention. I am by no means blamablein 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 senseis sound, and your knowledge extensive. What then remains for you to do?Nothing, but to adorn those fundamental qualifications, with suchengaging and captivating manners, softness, and gentleness, as willendear you to those who are able to judge of your real merit, and whichalways stand in the stead of merit with those who are not. I do not meanby this to recommend to you 'le fade doucereux', the insipid softness ofa gentle fool; no, assert your own opinion, oppose other people's whenwrong; but let your manner, your air, your terms, and your tone of voice, be soft and gentle, and that easily and naturally, not affectedly. Usepalliatives when you contradict; such as I MAY BE MISTAKEN, I AM NOTSURE, BUT I BELIEVE, I SHOULD RATHER THINK, etc. Finish any argument ordispute with some little good-humored pleasantry, to show that you areneither hurt yourself, nor meant to hurt your antagonist; for anargument, kept up a good while, often occasions a temporary alienation oneach side. Pray observe particularly, in those French people who aredistinguished by that character, 'cette douceur de moeurs et demanieres', which they talk of so much, and value so justly; see in whatit consists; in mere trifles, and most easy to be acquired, where theheart is really good. Imitate, copy it, till it becomes habitual and easyto you. Without a compliment to you, I take it to be the only thing younow want: nothing will sooner give it you than a real passion, or, atleast, 'un gout vif', for some woman of fashion; and, as I suppose thatyou have either the one or the other by this time, you are consequentlyin 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, Itis said that I have a kind of manner which is rather too decisive and tooperemptory; it is not, however, my intention that it should be so; Ientreat you to correct, and even publicly to punish me whenever I amguilty. Do not treat me with the least indulgence, but criticise to theutmost. So clear-sighted a judge as you has a right to be severe; and Ipromise you that the criminal will endeavor to correct himself. YesterdayI had two of your acquaintances to dine with me, Baron B. And hiscompanion Monsieur S. I cannot say of the former, 'qu'il est paitri degraces'; 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 lebois don't on en fait'. His companion is much better, though he has astrong 'tocco di tedesco'. They both spoke well of you, and so far Iliked them both. How go you on with the amiable little Blot? Does shelisten to your Battering tale? Are you numbered among the list of heradmirers? Is Madame------your Madame de Lursay? Does she sometimes knot, and are you her Meilcour? They say she has softness, sense, and engagingmanners; in such an apprenticeship much may be learned. --[This wholepassage, and several others, allude to Crebillon's 'Egaremens du Coeur etde l'Esprit', a sentimental novel written about that time, and then muchin vogue at Paris. ]

A woman like her, who has always pleased, and often been pleased, canbest teach the art of pleasing; that art, without which, 'ogni faticavana'. Marcel's lectures are no small part of that art: they are theengaging forerunner of all other accomplishments. Dress is also anarticle not to be neglected, and I hope you do not neglect it; it helpsin the 'premier abord', which is often decisive. By dress, I mean yourclothes being well made, fitting you, in the fashion and not above it;your hair well done, and a general cleanliness and spruceness in yourperson. I hope you take infinite care of your teeth; the consequences ofneglecting 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 thewhole. Adieu. I have not heard from you these three weeks, which I thinka great while. 

LETTER CXLII

LONDON, May 10, O. S. 1751. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday, at the same time, your letters ofthe 4th and 11th, N. S. , and being much more careful of my commissionsthan you are of yours, I do not delay one moment sending you my finalinstructions concerning the pictures. The man you allow to be a Titian, and in good preservation; the woman is an indifferent and a damagedpicture; but as I want them for furniture for a particular room, companions are necessary; and therefore I am willing to take the womanfor better for worse, upon account of the man; and if she is not too muchdamaged, I can have her tolerably repaired, as many a fine woman is, by askillful hand here; but then I expect that the lady should be, in amanner, thrown into the bargain with the man; and, in this state ofaffairs, the woman being worth little or nothing, I will not go abovefourscore 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 bellenature'; Rembrandt paints caricatures. Now for your own commissions, which you seem to have forgotten. You mention nothing of the patternswhich you received by Monsieur Tollot, though I told you in a formerletter, which you must have had before the date of your last, that Ishould stay till I received the patterns pitched upon by your ladies; foras to the instructions which you sent me in Madame Monconseil's hand, Icould find no mohairs in London that exactly answered that description; Ishall, therefore, wait till you send me (which you may easily do in aletter) 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 thatfamily, which has been particularly civil to you; and, moreover, I wouldhave you familiarize yourself with, and learn the interior and domesticmanners of, people of that rank and fashion. I also desire that you willfrequent Versailles and St. Cloud, at both of which courts you have beenreceived with distinction. Profit of that distinction, and familiarizeyourself at both. Great courts are the seats of true good-breeding; youare to live at courts, lose no time in learning them. Go and staysometimes at Versailles for three or four days, where you will bedomestic in the best families, by means of your friend Madame dePuisieux; and mine, l'Abbe de la Ville. Go to the King's and theDauphin's levees, and distinguish yourself from the rest of yourcountrymen, who, I dare say, never go there when they can help it. Thoughthe young Frenchmen of fashion may not be worth forming intimateconnections with, they are well worth making acquaintance of; and I donot see how you can avoid it, frequenting so many good French houses asyou do, where, to be sure, many of them come. Be cautious how youcontract friendships, but be desirous, and even industrious, to obtain auniversal acquaintance. Be easy, and even forward, in making newacquaintances; that is the only way of knowing manners and characters ingeneral, which is, at present, your great object. You are 'enfant defamille' in three ministers' houses; but I wish you had a footing, atleast, in thirteen and that, I should think, you might easily bringabout, by that common chain, which, to a certain degree, connects thoseyou 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 byan 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 youwould otherwise be in. Swallow all your learning in the morning, butdigest it in company in the evenings. The reading of ten new charactersis more your business now, than the reading of twenty old books; showishand shining people always get the better of all others, though ever sosolid. If you would be a great man in the world when you are old, shineand be showish in it while you are young, know everybody, and endeavor toplease everybody, I mean exteriorly; for fundamentally it is impossible. Try to engage the heart of every woman, and the affections of almostevery man you meet with. Madame Monconseil assures me that you are mostsurprisingly improved in your air, manners, and address: go on, my dearchild, and never think that you are come to a sufficient degree ofperfection; 'Nil actum reputans, si quid superesset agendum'; and inthose shining parts of the character of a gentleman, there is alwayssomething remaining to be acquired. Modes and manners vary in differentplaces, 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, theknowledge of characters, the brillant dun 'galant homme, ' is all that younow want. Study Marcel and the 'beau monde' with great application, butread 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 epithetgiven 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 notmake love to her, or may be otherwise engaged. On 'lui doit despolitesses, on fait l'eloge de ses charmes, et il n'en est ni plus nimoins pour cela': it pleases, it flatters; you get their good word, andyou lose nothing by it. These 'gentillesses' should be accompanied, asindeed everything else should, with an air: 'un air, un ton de douceur etde politesse'. Les graces must be of the party, or it will never do; andthey are so easily had, that it is astonishing to me that everybody hasthem not; they are sooner gained than any woman of common reputation anddecency. Pursue them but with care and attention, and you are sure toenjoy them at last: without them, I am sure, you will never enjoy anybodyelse. You observe, truly, that Mr. ------is gauche; it is to be hoped thatwill mend with keeping company; and is yet pardonable in him, as justcome from school. But reflect what you would think of a man, who had beenany time in the world, and yet should be so awkward. For God's sake, therefore, now think of nothing but shining, and even distinguishingyourself in the most polite courts, by your air, your address, yourmanners, your politeness, your 'douceur', your graces. With thoseadvantages (and not without them) take my word for it, you will get thebetter of all rivals, in business as well as in 'ruelles'. Adieu. Send meyour patterns, by the next post, and also your instructions to Grevenkopabout 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 probablymeet. I look upon that moment as a young woman does upon her bridalnight; I expect the greatest pleasure, and yet cannot help fearing somelittle mixture of pain. My reason bids me doubt a little, of what myimagination makes me expect. In some articles I am very sure that my mostsanguine wishes will not be disappointed; and those are the most materialones. In others, I fear something or other, which I can better feel thandescribe. However, I will attempt it. I fear the want of that amiable andengaging 'je ne sais quoi', which as some philosophers have, unintelligibly enough, said of the soul, is all in all, and all in everypart; it should shed its influence over every word and action. I fear thewant of that air, and first 'abord', which suddenly lays hold of theheart, one does not know distinctly how or why. I fear an inaccuracy, or, at least, inelegance of diction, which will wrong, and lower, the bestand justest matter. And, lastly, I fear an ungraceful, if not anunpleasant utterance, which would disgrace and vilify the whole. Shouldthese fears be at present founded, yet the objects of them are (thankGod) of such a nature, that you may, if you please, between this and ourmeeting, remove everyone of them. All these engaging and endearingaccomplishments are mechanical, and to be acquired by care andobservation, as easily as turning, or any mechanical trade. A commoncountry fellow, taken from the plow, and enlisted in an old corps, soonlays aside his shambling gait, his slouching air, his clumsy and awkwardmotions: and acquires the martial air, the regular motions, and wholeexercise 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 hewas enlisted; but either from a commendable ambition of being like, andequal to those he is to live with; or else from the fear of beingpunished for not being so. If then both or either of these motives changesuch a fellow, in about six months' time, to such a degree, as that he isnot to be known again, how much stronger should both these motives bewith you, to acquire, in the utmost perfection, the whole exercise of thepeople of fashion, with whom you are to live all your life? Ambitionshould make you resolve to be at least their equal in that exercise, aswell as the fear of punishment; which most inevitably will attend thewant 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 Ireceived from him by the last post, after some other commendations ofyou, says, "It is surprising that, thinking with so much solidity as hedoes, and having so true and refined a taste, he should express himselfwith so little elegance and delicacy. He even totally neglects the choiceof words and turn of phrases. "

This I should not be so much surprised or concerned at, if it relatedonly to the English language; which hitherto you have had no opportunityof studying, and but few of speaking, at least to those who could correctyour inaccuracies. But if you do not express yourself elegantly anddelicately in French and German, (both which languages I know you possessperfectly and speak eternally) it can be only from an unpardonableinattention to what you most erroneously think a little object, though, in truth, it is one of the most important of your life. Solidity anddelicacy of thought must be given us: it cannot be acquired, though itmay be improved; but elegance and delicacy of expression may be acquiredby whoever will take the necessary care and pains. I am sure you love meso well; that you would be very sorry when we meet, that I should beeither disappointed or mortified; and I love you so well, that I assureyou I should be both, if I should find you want any of those exterioraccomplishments which are the indispensably necessary steps to thatfigure and fortune, which I so earnestly wish you may one day make in theworld. 

I hope you do not neglect your exercises of riding, fencing, and dancing, but particularly the latter: for they all concur to 'degourdir', and togive a certain air. To ride well, is not only a proper and gracefulaccomplishment for a gentleman, but may also save you many a fallhereafter; to fence well, may possibly save your life; and to dance well, is absolutely necessary in order to sit, stand, and walk well. To tellyou the truth, my friend, I have some little suspicion that you now andthen neglect or omit your exercises, for more serious studies. But now'non est his locus', everything has its time; and this is yours for yourexercises; for when you return to Paris I only propose your continuingyour dancing; which you shall two years longer, if you happen to be wherethere is a good dancing-master. Here I will see you take some lessonswith your old master Desnoyers, who is our Marcel. 

What says Madame du Pin to you? I am told she is very handsome still; Iknow she was some few years ago. She has good parts, reading, manners, and delicacy: such an arrangement would be both creditable andadvantageous to you. She will expect to meet with all the good-breedingand delicacy that she brings; and as she is past the glare and 'eclat' ofyouth, may be the more willing to listen to your story, if you tell itwell. 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 thatthey are consistent, et 'l'un n'emplche pas l'autre'. Adieu. Remember 'ladouceur 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 youare to yours, return you this immediate answer to the question you ask meabout the two pictures: I will not give one livre more than what I toldyou in my last; having no sort of occasion for them, and not knowing verywell where to put them if I had them. 

I wait with impatience for your final orders about the mohairs; themercer persecuting me every day for three pieces which I thought pretty, and which I have kept by me eventually, to secure them in case yourladies should pitch upon them. 

If I durst! what should hinder you from daring? One always dares if thereare hopes of success; and even if there are none, one is no loser bydaring. A man of fashion knows how, and when, to dare. He begins hisapproaches by distant attacks, by assiduities, and by attentions. If heis not immediately and totally repulsed, he continues to advance. Aftercertain steps success is infallible; and none but very silly fellows canthen either doubt, or not attempt it. Is it the respectable character ofMadame de la Valiere which prevents your daring, or are you intimidatedat the fierce virtue of Madame du Pin? Does the invincible modesty of thehandsome Madame Case discourage, more than her beauty invites you? Fie, for shame! Be convinced that the most virtuous woman, far from beingoffended at a declaration of love, is flattered by it, if it is made in apolite and agreeable manner. It is possible that she may not bepropitious to your vows; that is to say, if she has a liking or a passionfor another person. But, at all events, she will not be displeased withyou for it; so that, as there is no danger, this cannot even be calleddaring. But if she attends, if she listens, and allows you to repeat yourdeclaration, be persuaded that if you do not dare all the rest, she willlaugh at you. I advise you to begin rather by Madame du Pin, who hasstill more than beauty enough for such a youngster as you. She has, besides, knowledge of the world, sense, and delicacy. As she is not soextremely young, the choice of her lovers cannot be entirely at heroption. I promise you, she will not refuse the tender of your most humbleservices. Distinguish her, then, by attentions and by tender looks. Takefavorable opportunities of whispering that you wish esteem and friendshipwere the only motives of your regard for her; but that it derives fromsentiments of a much more tender nature: that you made not thisdeclaration without pain; but that the concealing your passion was astill greater torment. 

I am sensible, that in saying this for the first time, you will looksilly, abashed, and even express yourself very ill. So much the better;for, instead of attributing your confusion to the little usage you haveof the world, particularly in these sort of subjects, she will think thatexcess of love is the occasion of it. In such a case, the lover's bestfriend 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 asecond, a third, and a fourth. If the place is not already taken, dependupon it, it may be conquered. 

I am very glad you are going to Orli, and from thence to St. Cloud; go toboth, and to Versailles also, often. It is that interior domesticfamiliarity with people of fashion, that alone can give you 'l'usage dumonde, et les manieres aisees'. It is only with women one loves, or menone respects, that the desire of pleasing exerts itself; and without thedesire of pleasing no man living can please. Let that desire be thespring of all your words and actions. That happy talent, the art ofpleasing, which so few do, though almost all might possess, is worth allyour learning and knowledge put together. The latter can never raise youhigh without the former; but the former may carry you, as it has carriedthousands, a great way without the latter. 

I am glad that you dance so well, as to be reckoned by Marcel among hisbest scholars; go on, and dance better still. Dancing well is pleasing'pro tanto', and makes a part of that necessary whole, which is composedof a thousand parts, many of them of 'les infiniment petits quoiqu'infiniment necessaires'. 

I shall never have done upon this subject which is indispensablynecessary toward your making any figure or fortune in the world; bothwhich I have set my heart upon, and for both which you now absolutelywant no one thing but the art of pleasing; and I must not conceal fromyou that you have still a good way to go before you arrive at it. Youstill want a thousand of those little attentions that imply a desire ofpleasing: you want a 'douceur' of air and expression that engages: youwant an elegance and delicacy of expression, necessary to adorn the bestsense 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 ofbooks to them: seek for them in company, and renounce your closet tillyou have got them. I never received the letter you refer to, if ever youwrote 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 yourheart, your mind, and your manners, and to bring you as near perfectionas the imperfection of our natures will allow, I have exhausted, in thecourse of our correspondence, all that my own mind could suggest, andhave borrowed from others whatever I thought could be useful to you; butthis 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 thatyou have heard, and all that you have read, upon these subjects; and toform your own character, your conduct, and your manners, for the rest ofyour life; allowing for such improvements as a further knowledge of theworld will naturally give you. In this view I would recommend to you toread, with the greatest attention, such books as treat particularly ofthose subjects; reflecting seriously upon them, and then comparing thespeculation with the practice. 

For example, if you read in the morning some of La Rochefoucault'smaxims; consider them, examine them well, and compare them with the realcharacters 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 andthe mind of man, and begin with your own. Meditation and reflection mustlay the foundation of that knowledge: but experience and practice must, and alone can, complete it. Books, it is true, point out the operationsof 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 leadyou into as many errors in fact, as a map would do, if you were to takeyour notions of the towns and provinces from their delineations in it. Aman would reap very little benefit by his travels, if he made them onlyin his closet upon a map of the whole world. Next to the two books that Ihave already mentioned, I do not know a better for you to read, andseriously reflect upon, than 'Avis d'une Mere d'un Fils, par la Marquisede Lambert'. She was a woman of a superior understanding and knowledge ofthe world, had always kept the best company, was solicitous that her sonshould make a figure and a fortune in the world, and knew better thananybody how to point out the means. It is very short, and will take youmuch 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 risethere; 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 subalternemployments, the art of pleasing must be your support. Masters are likemistresses: whatever services they may be indebted to you for, they ceaseto love when you cease to be agreeable. This, I can assure you, is atleast as true in courts as in camps, and possibly more so. If to yourmerit and knowledge you add the art of pleasing, you may very probablycome in time to be Secretary of State; but, take my word for it, twiceyour merit and knowledge, without the art of pleasing, would, at most, raise you to the IMPORTANT POST of Resident at Hamburgh or Ratisbon. Ineed not tell you now, for I often have, and your own discernment musthave told you, of what numberless little ingredients that art of pleasingis compounded, and how the want of the least of them lowers the whole;but the principal ingredient is, undoubtedly, 'la douceur dans lemanieres': nothing will give you this more than keeping company with yoursuperiors. Madame Lambert tells her son, Let your connections be withpeople above you; by that means you will acquire a habit of respect andpoliteness. With one's equals, one is apt to become negligent, and themind grows torpid. She advises him, too, to frequent those people, and tosee their inside; In order to judge of men, one must be intimatelyconnected; thus you see them without, a veil, and with their mereevery-day merit. A happy expression! It was for this reason that I haveso often advised you to establish and domesticate yourself, wherever youcan, in good houses of people above you, that you may see their EVERY-DAYcharacter, manners, habits, etc. One must see people undressed to judgetruly of their shape; when they are dressed to go abroad, their clothesare contrived to conceal, or at least palliate the defects of it: asfull-bottomed wigs were contrived for the Duke of Burgundy, to concealhis hump back. Happy those who have no faults to disguise, nor weaknessesto conceal! there are few, if any such; but unhappy those who know littleenough of the world to judge by outward appearances. Courts are the bestkeys to characters; there every passion is busy, every art exerted, everycharacter analyzed; jealousy, ever watchful, not only discovers, butexposes, the mysteries of the trade, so that even bystanders 'yapprennent a deviner'. There too the great art of pleasing is practiced, taught, and learned with all its graces and delicacies. It is the firstthing needful there: It is the absolutely necessary harbinger of meritand talents, let them be ever so great. There is no advancing a stepwithout it. Let misanthropes and would-be philosophers declaim as much asthey please against the vices, the simulation, and dissimulation ofcourts; those invectives are always the result of ignorance, ill-humor, or envy. Let them show me a cottage, where there are not the same vicesof which they accuse courts; with this difference only, that in a cottagethey appear in their native deformity, and that in courts, manners andgood-breeding make them less shocking, and blunt their edge. No, beconvinced that the good-breeding, the 'tournure, la douceur dans lesmanieres', which alone are to be acquired at courts, are not the showishtrifles only which some people call or think them; they are a solid good;they prevent a great deal of real mischief; they create, adorn, andstrengthen friendships; they keep hatred within bounds; they promotegood-humor and good-will in families, where the want of good-breeding andgentleness of manners is commonly the original cause of discord. Getthen, before it is too late, a habit of these 'mitiores virtutes':practice them upon every the least occasion, that they may be easy andfamiliar to you upon the greatest; for they lose a great degree of theirmerit if they seem labored, and only called in upon extraordinaryoccasions. I tell you truly, this is now the only doubtful part of yourcharacter with me; and it is for that reason that I dwell upon it somuch, and inculcate it so often. I shall soon see whether this doubt ofmine 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 findthat you have had, though ever so slight a return of your Carniolandisorder; and I hope your conclusion will prove a true one, and that thiswill be the last. I will send the mohairs by the first opportunity. Asfor the pictures, I am already so full, that I am resolved not to buy onemore, unless by great accident I should meet with something surprisinglygood, and as surprisingly cheap. 

I should have thought that Lord-------, at his age, and with his partsand address, need not have been reduced to keep an opera w---e, in such aplace as Paris, where so many women of fashion generously serve asvolunteers. I am still more sorry that he is in love with her; for thatwill take him out of good company, and sink him into bad; such asfiddlers, pipers, and 'id genus omne'; most unedifying and unbecomingcompany 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 allsold. However, to prevent further delays (for ladies are apt to be veryimpatient, when at last they know their own minds), I have taken thequantities desired of three mohairs which come nearest to the descriptionyou sent me some time ago, in Madame Monconseil's own hand; and I willsend them to Calais by the first opportunity. In giving 'la petite Blot'her piece, you have a fine occasion of saying fine things, if soinclined. 

Lady Hervey, who is your puff and panegyrist, writes me word that she sawyou lately dance at a ball, and that you dance very genteelly. I amextremely glad to hear it; for (by the maxim, that 'omne majus continetin se minus'), if you dance genteelly, I presume you walk, sit, and standgenteelly too; things which are much more easy, though much morenecessary, than dancing well. I have known many very genteel people, whocould not dance well; but I never knew anybody dance very well, who wasnot genteel in other things. You will probably often have occasion tostand in circles, at the levees of princes and ministers, when it is verynecessary 'de payer de sa personne, et d'etre bien plante', with yourfeet not too near nor too distant from each other. More people stand andwalk, than sit genteelly. Awkward, ill-bred people, being ashamed, commonly sit bolt upright and stiff; others, too negligent and easy, 'sevautrent dans leur fauteuil', which is ungraceful and ill-bred, unlesswhere the familiarity is extreme; but a man of fashion makes himselfeasy, and appears so by leaning gracefully instead of lolling supinely;and by varying those easy attitudes instead of that stiff immobility of abashful booby. You cannot conceive, nor can I express, how advantageous agood air, genteel motions, and engaging address are, not only amongwomen, but among men, and even in the course of business; they fascinatethe affections, they steal a preference, they play about the heart tillthey engage it. I know a man, and so do you, who, without a grain ofmerit, knowledge, or talents, has raised himself millions of degreesabove his level, simply by a good air and engaging manners; insomuch thatthe very Prince who raised him so high, calls him, 'mon aimablevaut-rien';--[The Marichal de Richelieu. ]--but of this do not open yourlips, 'pour cause'. I give you this secret as the strongest proofimaginable of the efficacy of air, address, 'tournure, et tout ces Petitsriens'. 

Your other puff and panegyrist, Mr. Harte, is gone to Windsor in his wayto Cornwall, in order to be back soon enough to meet you here: I reallybelieve 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 thenbe in a situation, that leaving Paris would cost your heart too manypangs, I allow you to put off your journey, and to tell me, as Festus didPaul, AT A MORE CONVENIENT SEASON I WILL SPEAK TO THEE. You see by thisthat I eventually sacrifice my sentiments to yours, and this in a veryuncommon object of paternal complaisance. Provided always, and be itunderstood (as they say in acts of Parliament), that 'quae te cumquedomat Venus, non erubescendis adurit ignibus'. If your heart will let youcome, bring with you only your valet de chambre, Christian, and your ownfootman; not your valet de place, whom you may dismiss for the time, asalso your coach; but you had best keep on your lodgings, the intermediateexpense of which will be but inconsiderable, and you will want them toleave 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 outby that time, and one suit of your fine clothes, two or three of yourlaced shirts, and the rest plain ones; of other things, as bags, feathers, etc. , as you think proper. Bring no books, unless two or threefor your' amusement upon the road; for we must apply simply to English, in which you are certainly no 'puriste'; and I will supply yousufficiently with the proper English authors. I shall probably keep youhere till about the middle of October, and certainly not longer; it beingabsolutely 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 bythe promise of your return in two months. 

Have you got a master for geometry? If the weather is very hot, you mayleave your riding at the 'manege' till you return to Paris, unless youthink the exercise does you more good than the heat can do you harm; butI desire you will not leave off Marcel for one moment; your fencinglikewise, if you have a mind, may subside for the summer; but you will dowell to resume it in the winter and to be adroit at it, but by no meansfor 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 knowledgeof the world. They consist in the relations of persons, things, time, andplace; good sense points them out, good company perfects them ( supposingalways an attention and a desire to please), and good policy recommendsthem. 

Were you to converse with a king, you ought to be as easy andunembarrassed as with your own valet de chambre; but yet, every look, word and action, should imply the utmost respect. What would be properand well-bred with others, much your superiors, would be absurd andill-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 musteven take care that the given subject of such conversation do not leadyou into any impropriety. The art would be to carry it, if possible, tosome indirect flattery; such as commending those virtues in some otherperson, in which that prince either thinks he does, or at least would bethought by others to excel. Almost the same precautions are necessary tobe used with ministers, generals, etc. , who expect to be treated withvery near the same respect as their masters, and commonly deserve itbetter. There is, however, this difference, that one may begin theconversation with them, if on their side it should happen to drop, provided one does not carry it to any subject upon which it is impropereither for them to speak, or be spoken to. In these two cases, certainattitudes and actions would be extremely absurd, because too easy, andconsequently disrespectful. As, for instance, if you were to put yourarms 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 difficultyin 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 peopleare to a certain degree equal), greater ease and liberty are allowed; butthey too have their bounds within 'bienseance'. There is a social respectnecessary: you may start your own subject of conversation with modesty, taking great care, however, 'de ne jamais parler de cordes dans lamaison d'un pendu. --[Never to mention a rope in the family of a man whohas been hanged]--Your words, gestures, and attitudes, have a greaterdegree of latitude, though by no means an unbounded one. You may haveyour hands in your pockets, take snuff, sit, stand, or occasionally walk, as you like; but I believe you would not think it very 'bienseant' towhistle, put on your hat, loosen your garters or your buckles, lie downupon a couch, or go to bed, and welter in an easychair. These arenegligences and freedoms which one can only take when quite alone; theyare injurious to superiors, shocking and offensive to equals, brutal andinsulting to inferiors. That easiness of carriage and behavior, which isexceedingly engaging, widely differs from negligence and inattention, andby no means implies that one may do whatever one pleases; it only meansthat one is not to be stiff, formal, embarrassed, disconcerted, andashamed, like country bumpkins, and, people who have never been in goodcompany; but it requires great attention to, and a scrupulous observationof 'les bienseances': whatever one ought to do, is to be done with easeand unconcern; whatever is improper must not be done at all. In mixedcompanies 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 deferenceand regard. You should be full as easy with them as with people of yourown years: but your manner must be different; more respect must beimplied; and it is not amiss to insinuate that from them you expect tolearn. It flatters and comforts age for not being able to take a part inthe joy and titter of youth. To women you should always address yourselfwith great outward respect and attention, whatever you feel inwardly;their sex is by long prescription entitled to it; and it is among theduties of 'bienseance'; at the same time that respect is very properlyand very agreeably mixed with a degree of 'enjouement', if you have it;but then, that badinage must either directly or indirectly tend to theirpraise, and even not be liable to a malicious construction to theirdisadvantage. But here, too, great attention must be had to thedifference of age, rank, and situation. A 'marechale' of fifty must notbe played with like a young coquette of fifteen; respect and serious'enjouement', if I may couple those two words, must be used with theformer, and mere 'badinage, zeste meme d'un peu de polissonerie', ispardonable with the latter. 

Another important point of 'les bienseances', seldom enough attended to, is, not to run your own present humor and disposition indiscriminatelyagainst everybody, but to observe, conform to, and adopt them. Forexample, 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 laMarechale de Coigny, the Pope's nuncio, or Abbe Sallier, or to any personof natural gravity and melancholy, or who at that time should be ingrief? I believe not; as, on the other hand, I suppose, that if you werein low spirits or real grief, you would not choose to bewail yoursituation with 'la petite Blot'. If you cannot command your present humorand disposition, single out those to converse with, who happen to be inthe humor the nearest to your own. 

Loud laughter is extremely inconsistent with 'les bienseances', as it isonly the illiberal and noisy testimony of the joy of the mob at some verysilly thing. A gentleman is often seen, but very seldom heard to laugh. Nothing is more contrary to 'les bienseances' than horse-play, or 'jeuxde main' of any kind whatever, and has often very serious, sometimes veryfatal consequences. Romping, struggling, throwing things at one another'shead, are the becoming pleasantries of the mob, but degrade a gentleman:'giuoco di mano, giuoco di villano', is a very true saying, among the fewtrue sayings of the Italians. 

Peremptoriness and decision in young people is 'contraire auxbienseances', and they should seldom seem to assert, and always use somesoftening 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 andexperience 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 thestreet. He considers them as objects of compassion, not of insult; hespeaks to neither 'd'un ton brusque', but corrects the one coolly, andrefuses the other with humanity. There is one occasion in the world inwhich 'le ton brusque' is becoming a gentleman. In short, 'lesbienseances' are another word for MANNERS, and extend to every part oflife. They are propriety; the Graces should attend, in order to completethem; the Graces enable us to do, genteelly and pleasingly, what 'lesbienseances' require to be done at all. The latter are an obligation uponevery 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, andconsequently not endeavor to dance still better. And though you should betold that you are genteel, still aim at being genteeler. If Marcelshould, do not you be satisfied. Go on, court the Graces all yourlifetime; you will find no better friends at court: they will speak inyour favor, to the hearts of princes, ministers, and mistresses. 

Now that all tumultuous passions and quick sensations have subsided withme, and that I have no tormenting cares nor boisterous pleasures toagitate me, my greatest joy is to consider the fair prospect you havebefore you, and to hope and believe you will enjoy it. You are already inthe world, at an age when others have hardly heard of it. Your characteris hitherto not only unblemished in its mortal part, but even unsulliedby any low, dirty, and ungentleman-like vice; and will, I hope, continueso. Your knowledge is sound, extensive and avowed, especially ineverything relative to your destination. With such materials to beginwith, what then is wanting! Not fortune, as you have found by experience. You have had, and shall have, fortune sufficient to assist your merit andyour industry; and if I can help it, you never shall have enough to makeyou negligent of either. You have, too, 'mens sana in corpore sano', thegreatest blessing of all. All, therefore, that you want is as much inyour power to acquire, as to eat your breakfast when set before you; itis only that knowledge of the world, that elegance of manners, thatuniversal politeness, and those graces which keeping good company, andseeing variety of places and characters, must inevitably, with the leastattention on your part, give you. Your foreign destination leads to thegreatest things, and your parliamentary situation will facilitate yourprogress. Consider, then, this pleasing prospect as attentively foryourself as I consider it for you. Labor on your part to realize it, as Iwill on mine to assist, and enable you to do it. 'Nullum numen abest, sisit prudentia'. 

Adieu, my dear child! I count the days till I have the pleasure of seeingyou; I shall soon count the hours, and at last the minutes, withincreasing impatience. 

P. S. The mohairs are this day gone from hence for Calais, recommended tothe care of Madame Morel, and directed, as desired, to theComptroller-general. The three pieces come to six hundred and eightyFrench livres. 

LETTER CXLVIII

GREENWICH, June 20, O. S. 1751

MY DEAR FRIEND: So very few people, especially young travelers, see whatthey see, or hear what they hear, that though I really believe it may beunnecessary with you, yet there can be no harm in reminding you, fromtime to time, to see what you see, and to hear what you hear; that is, tosee and hear as you should do. Frivolous, futile people, who make atleast three parts in four of mankind, only desire to see and hear whattheir frivolous and futile precursors have seen and heard: as St. Peter's, the Pope, and High Mass, at Rome; Notre Dame, Versailles, theFrench King, and the French Comedy, in France. A man of parts sees andhears very differently from these gentlemen, and a great deal more. Heexamines and informs himself thoroughly of everything he sees or hears;and, more particularly, as it is relative to his own profession ordestination. Your destination is political; the object, therefore, ofyour inquiries and observations should be the political interior ofthings; the forms of government, laws, regulations, customs, trade, manufactures, etc. , of the several nations of Europe. This knowledge ismuch better acquired by conversation with sensible and well-informedpeople, than by books, the best of which upon these subjects are alwaysimperfect. For example, there are "Present States" of France, as thereare of England; but they are always defective, being published by peopleuninformed, who only copy one another; they are, however, worth lookinginto because they point out objects for inquiry, which otherwise mightpossibly never have occurred to one's mind; but an hour's conversationwith a sensible president or 'conseiller' will let you more into the truestate of the parliament of Paris, than all the books in France. In thesame manner, the 'Almanack Militaire' is worth your having; but two orthree conversations with officers will inform you much better of theirmilitary regulations. People have, commonly, a partiality for their ownprofessions, love to talk of them, and are even flattered by beingconsulted upon the subject; when, therefore, you are with any of thosemilitary 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, theirperquisites, 'lours montres, lours etapes', etc. Do the same as to themarine, and make yourself particularly master of that detail; which has, and always will have, a great relation to the affairs of England; and, inproportion as you get good informations, take minutes of them in writing. 

The regulations of trade and commerce in France are excellent, as appearsbut too plainly for us, by the great increase of both, within thesethirty years; for not to mention their extensive commerce in both theEast and West Indies, they have got the whole trade of the Levant fromus; and now supply all the foreign markets with their sugars, to the ruinalmost of our sugar colonies, as Jamaica, Barbadoes, and the LeewardIslands. Get, therefore, what informations you can of these matters also. 

Inquire too into their church matters; for which the present disputesbetween the court and the clergy give you fair and frequentopportunities. Know the particular rights of the Gallican church, inopposition to the pretensions of the See of Rome. I need not recommendecclesiastical history to you, since I hear that you study 'Du Pin' veryassiduously. 

You cannot imagine how much this solid and useful knowledge of othercountries will distinguish you in your own (where, to say the truth, itis very little known or cultivated), besides the great use it is of inall foreign negotiations; not to mention that it enables a man to shinein all companies. When kings and princes have any knowledge, it is ofthis sort, and more particularly; and therefore it is the usual topic oftheir levee conversations, in which it will qualify you to bear aconsiderable part; it brings you more acquainted with them; and they arepleased to have people talk to them on a subject in which they think toshine. 

There is a sort of chit-chat, or SMALL TALK, which is the general run ofconversation at courts, and in most mixed companies. It is a sort ofmiddling conversation, neither silly nor edifying; but, however, verynecessary for you to become master of. It turns upon the public events ofEurope, and then is at its best; very often upon the number, the goodnessor badness, the discipline, or the clothing of the troops of differentprinces; sometimes upon the families, the marriages, the relations ofprinces, and considerable people; and sometimes 'sur le bon chere', themagnificence of public entertainments, balls, masquerades, etc. I wouldwish you to be able to talk upon all these things better, and with moreknowledge than other people; insomuch that upon those occasions, youshould be applied to, and that people should say, I DARE SAY MR. STANHOPECAN 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 shiningparts. Tacitus very justly accounts for a man's having always kept infavor and enjoyed the best employments under the tyrannical reigns ofthree 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, andonly learned by keeping a great deal of the best company. Frequent thosegood houses where you have already a footing, and wriggle yourselfsomehow or other into every other. Haunt the courts particularly in orderto get that ROUTINE. 

This moment I receive yours of the 18th N. S. You will have had some timeago my final answers concerning the pictures; and, by my last, an accountthat the mohairs were gone to Madame Morel, at Calais, with the properdirections. 

I am sorry that your two sons-in-law [?? D. W. ], the Princes B----, aresuch boobies; however, as they have the honor of being so nearly relatedto 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 toclosely 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 havingany master at all, except Marcel, once or twice a week. And then thecourts will, I hope, be no longer strange countries to you; for I wouldhave you run down frequently to Versailles and St. Cloud, for three orfour days at a time. You know the Abbe de la Ville, who will present youto 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 bewell acquainted with the nature of it; like all other soil, it is in someplaces deeper, in others lighter, but always capable of great improvementby cultivation and experience. 

You say that you want some hints for a letter to Lady Chesterfield; moreuse and knowledge of the world will teach you occasionally to write andtalk genteelly, 'sup des riens', which I can tell you is a very usefulpart upon worldly knowledge; for in some companies, it would be imprudentto talk of anything else; and with very many people it is impossible totalk 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 infiniteadvantage to whoever has them, and so peculiarly and essentiallynecessary for you, that now, as the time of our meeting draws near, Itremble for fear I should not find you possessed of them; and, to tellyou the truth, I doubt you are not yet sufficiently convinced for theirimportance. There is, for instance, your intimate friend, Mr. H-----, whowith great merit, deep knowledge, and a thousand good qualities, willnever make a figure in the world while he lives. Why? Merely for want ofthose external and showish accomplishments, which he began the world toolate to acquire; and which, with his studious and philosophical turn, Ibelieve he thinks are not worth his attention. He may, very probably, make a figure in the republic of letters, but he had ten thousand timesbetter make a figure as a man of the world and of business in therepublic of the United Provinces, which, take my word for it, he neverwill. 

As I open myself, without the least reserve, whenever I think that mydoing so can be of any use to you, I will give you a short account ofmyself. When I first came into the world, which was at the age you are ofnow, so that, by the way, you have got the start of me in that importantarticle by two or three years at least, --at nineteen I left theUniversity of Cambridge, where I was an absolute pedant; when I talked mybest, 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 wasconvinced that none but the ancients had common sense; that the classicscontained everything that was either necessary, useful, or ornamental tomen; and I was not without thoughts of wearing the 'toga virilis' of theRomans, instead of the vulgar and illiberal dress of the moderns. Withthese excellent notions I went first to The Hague, where, by the help ofseveral letters of recommendation, I was soon introduced into all thebest company; and where I very soon discovered that I was totallymistaken in almost every one notion I had entertained. Fortunately, I hada strong desire to please (the mixed result of good-nature and a vanityby no means blamable), and was sensible that I had nothing but thedesire. I therefore resolved, if possible, to acquire the means, too. Istudied attentively and minutely the dress, the air, the manner, theaddress, and the turn of conversation of all those whom I found to be thepeople in fashion, and most generally allowed to please. I imitated themas well as I could; if I heard that one man was reckoned remarkablygenteel, I carefully watched his dress, motions and attitudes, and formedmy own upon them. When I heard of another, whose conversation wasagreeable and engaging, I listened and attended to the turn of it. Iaddressed myself, though 'de tres mauvaise grace', to all the mostfashionable fine ladies; confessed, and laughed with them at my ownawkwardness and rawness, recommending myself as an object for them to trytheir skill in forming. By these means, and with a passionate desire ofpleasing everybody, I came by degrees to please some; and, I can assureyou, that what little figure I have made in the world, has been much moreowing to that passionate desire of pleasing universally than to anyintrinsic merit or sound knowledge I might ever have been master of. Mypassion for pleasing was so strong (and I am very glad it was so), that Iown 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 cannotconceive how it is possible for any man of good-nature and good sense tobe without this passion. Does not good-nature incline us to please allthose we converse with, of whatever rank or station they may be? And doesnot good sense and common observation, show of what infinite use it is toplease? Oh! but one may please by the good qualities of the heart, andthe knowledge of the head, without that fashionable air, address andmanner, which is mere tinsel. I deny it. A man may be esteemed andrespected, but I defy him to please without them. Moreover, at your age, I would not have contented myself with barely pleasing; I wanted to shineand 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 youplease, was a right one; it hurt nobody, and made me exert whatevertalents 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, andwho had often been with you, both at Paris and in Italy. Among theinnumerable questions which you may be sure I asked him concerning you, Ihappened to mention your dress (for, to say the truth, it was the onlything of which I thought him a competent judge) upon which he said thatyou dressed tolerably well at Paris; but that in Italy you dressed soill, that he used to joke with you upon it, and even to tear yourclothes. Now, I must tell you, that at your age it is as ridiculous notto be very well dressed, as at my age it would be if I were to wear awhite feather and red-heeled shoes. Dress is one of various ingredientsthat contribute to the art of pleasing; it pleases the eyes at least, andmore especially of women. Address yourself to the senses, if you wouldplease; dazzle the eyes, soothe and flatter the ears of mankind; engagetheir hearts, and let their reason do its worst against you. 'Suaviter inmodo' 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: andyou will find it to be that 'douceur', that gentleness of manners, thatair and address, which I have so often recommended to you; and fromthence draw this obvious conclusion, that what pleases you in them, willplease others in you; for we are all made of the same clay, though someof the lumps are a little finer, and some a little coarser; but ingeneral, the surest way to judge of others, is to examine and analyzeone'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 tocongratulate 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 heis as meagre as an apostle or a prophet. By the way, has he everintroduced you to la Duchesse d'Aiguillon? If he has not, make himpresent you; and if he has, frequent her, and make her many complimentsfrom me. She has uncommon, sense and knowledge for a woman, and her houseis the resort of one set of 'les beaux esprits. It is a satisfaction anda sort of credit to be acquainted with those gentlemen; and it puts ayoung fellow in fashion. 'A propos des beaux esprits', you have 'lesentries' 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 arenot acquainted with her, either the Duchesse d'Aiguillon or Lady Herveycan, and I dare say will; introduce you. I can assure you, it is verywell worth your while, both upon her own account, and for the sake of thepeople of wit and learning who frequent her. In such companies there isalways something to be learned as well as manners; the conversation turnsupon something above trifles; some point of literature, criticism, history, etc. , is discussed with ingenuity and good manners; for I mustdo the French people of learning justice; they are not bears, as most ofours are: they are gentlemen. 

Our Abbe writes me word that you were gone to Compiegne: I am very gladof it; other courts must form you for your own. He tells me too, that youhave left off riding at the 'manege'; I have no objection to that, ittakes up a great deal of the morning; and if you have got a genteel andfirm seat on horseback, it is enough for you, now that tilts andtournaments are laid aside. I suppose you have hunted at Compiegne. TheKing's hunting there, I am told, is a fine sight. The French manner ofhunting is gentlemanlike; ours is only for bumpkins and boobies. The poorbeasts are here pursued and run down by much greater beasts thanthemselves, and the true British fox-hunter is most undoubtedly a speciesappropriated and peculiar to this country, which no other part of theglobe produces. 

I hope you apply the time you have saved from the riding-house to usefulmore than to learned purposes; for I can assure you they are verydifferent 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 meanuseful Greek books, such as Demosthenes, Thucydides, etc. , and not thepoets, with whom you are already enough acquainted. Your Latin will takecare of itself. Whatever more time you may have for reading, pray bestowit 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, thepresent state of all the courts and countries in Europe, the charactersof the kings and princes, their wives, their ministers, and their w----s;their several views, connections, and interests; the state of theirFINANCES, their military force, their trade, manufactures, and commerce. That is the useful, the necessary knowledge for you, and indeed for everygentleman. But with all this, remember, that living books are much betterthan dead ones; and throw away no time (for it is thrown away) with thelatter, which you can employ well with the former; for books must now beyour only amusement, but, by no means your business. I had much ratherthat you were passionately in love with some determined coquette ofcondition (who would lead you a dance, fashion, supple, and polish you), than that you knew all Plato and Aristotle by heart: an hour atVersailles, Compiegne, or St. Cloud, is now worth more to you than threehours 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 moreof his soul, and the clergy more of their revenue. Those gentlemen arevery skillful in making the most of the vices and the weaknesses of thelaity. I hope you have read and informed yourself fully of everythingrelative to that affair; it is a very important question, in which thepriesthood of every country in Europe is highly concerned. If you wouldbe thoroughly convinced that their tithes are of divine institution, andtheir property the property of God himself, not to be touched by anypower on earth, read Fra Paolo De Beneficiis, an excellent and shortbook; for which, and some other treaties against the court of Rome, hewas stilettoed; which made him say afterward, upon seeing an anonymousbook written against him by order of the Pope, 'Conosco bene to stileRomano'. 

The parliament of Paris, and the states of Languedoc, will, I believe, hardly scramble off; having only reason and justice, but no terrors ontheir side. Those are political and constitutional questions that welldeserve your attention and inquiries. I hope you are thoroughly master ofthem. It is also worth your while to collect and keep all the pieceswritten upon those subjects. 

I hope you have been thanked by your ladies, at least, if not paid inmoney, for the mohairs, which I sent by a courier to Paris, some timeago, instead of sending them to Madame Morel, at Calais, as I told you Ishould. Do they like them; and do they like you the better for gettingthem? 'Le petite Blot devroit au moins payer de sa personne'. As forMadame de Polignac, I believe you will very willingly hold her excusedfrom personal payment. 

Before you return to England, pray go again to Orli, for two or threedays, and also to St. Cloud, in order to secure a good reception there atyour return. Ask the Marquis de Matignon too, if he has any orders foryou in England, or any letters or packets for Lord Bolingbroke. Adieu! Goon 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 intosecret correspondences. Lord Albemarle's reserve to you is, I believe, more owing to his secretary than to himself; for you seem to be much infavor with him; and possibly too HE HAS NO VERY SECRET LETTERS tocommunicate. However, take care not to discover the least dissatisfactionupon this score: make the proper acknowledgments to Colonel Yorke, forwhat he does show you; but let neither Lord Albemarle nor his peopleperceive the least coldness on your part, upon account of what they donot 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 ColonelYorke; 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 hisfather, the Chancellor. 'A propos' of your coming here; I confess that Iam 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 daythat I some time ago appointed for your leaving Paris, have you set outon Friday the 20th of August, N. S. ; in consequence of which you will beat Calais some time on the Sunday following, and probably at Dover withinfour-and-twenty hours afterward. If you land in the morning, you may, ina postchaise, get to Sittingborne that day; if you come on shore in theevening, you can only get to Canterbury, where you will be better lodgedthan at Dover. I will not have you travel in the night, nor fatigue andoverheat yourself by running on fourscore miles the moment you land. Youwill come straight to Blackheath, where I shall be ready to meet you, andwhich is directly upon the Dover road to London; and we will go to towntogether, after you have rested yourself a day or two here. All the otherdirections, which I gave you in my former letter, hold still the same. But, notwithstanding this regulation, should you have any particularreasons for leaving Paris two or three days sooner or later, than theabove mentioned, 'vous etes maitre'. Make all your arrangements at Parisfor about a six weeks stay in England at farthest. 

I had a letter the other day from Lord Huntingdon, of which one-half atleast was your panegyric; it was extremely welcome to me from so good ahand. Cultivate that friendship; it will do you honor and give youstrength. Connections, in our mixed parliamentary government, are ofgreat use. 

I send you here inclosed the particular price of each of the mohairs; butI 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, theshortest 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 uponhim. 

I am very sorry to hear that Lady Hervey is ill. Paris does not seem toagree 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 arequite alone, for reasons which I will tell you when we meet: but this isonly between you and me; and I desire that you will not so much as hintit to her, or to anybody else. 

If old Kurzay goes to the valley of Jehoshaphat, I cannot help it; itwill be an ease to our friend Madame Montconseil, who I believe maintainsher, and a little will not satisfy her in any way. 

Remember to bring your mother some little presents; they need not be ofvalue, but only marks of your affection and duty for one who has alwaysbeen tenderly fond of you. You may bring Lady Chesterfield a littleMartin snuffbox of about five Louis; and you need bring over no otherpresents; you and I not wanting 'les petits presens pour entretenirl'amitee'. 

Since I wrote what goes before, I have talked you over minutely with LordAlbemarle, who told me, that he could very sincerely commend you uponevery article but one; but upon that one you were often joked, both byhim and others. I desired to know what that was; he laughed and told meit was the article of dress, in which you were exceedingly negligent. Though he laughed, I can assure you that it is no laughing matter foryou; 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 moreimportance to you, than all the Greek you know will, be of these thirtyyears. Remember that the world is now your only business; and that youmust adopt its customs and manners, be they silly or be they not. Toneglect 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 whicheverybody else doth; they mind dress, and you will never please them ifyou neglect yours; and if you do not please the women, you will notplease half the men you otherwise might. It is the women who put a youngfellow in fashion even with the men. A young fellow ought to have acertain fund of coquetry; which should make him try all the means ofpleasing, as much as any coquette in Europe can do. Old as I am, andlittle thinking of women, God knows, I am very far from being negligentof my dress; and why? From conformity to custom, and out of decency tomen, who expect that degree of complaisance. I do not, indeed, wearfeathers and red heels, which would ill suit my age; but I take care tohave my clothes well made, my wig well combed and powdered, my linen andperson extremely clean. I even allow my footman forty shillings a yearextraordinary, that they may be spruce and neat. Your figure especially, which from its stature cannot be very majestic and interesting, should bethe more attended to in point of dress as it cannot be 'imposante', itshould be 'gentile, aimable, bien mise'. It will not admit of negligenceand 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 meansblame 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 moreinstructing than his; on the contrary, you do very well; but, however, ashe was extremely civil to you, take care to be so to him, and make up inmanner what you omit in matter. See him, dine with him before you comeaway, and ask his commands for England. 

Your triangular seal is done, and I have given it to an Englishgentleman, who sets out in a week for Paris, and who will deliver it toSir John Lambert for you. 

I cannot conclude this letter without returning again to the showish, theornamental, the shining parts of your character; which, if you neglect, upon my word you will render the solid ones absolutely useless; nay, suchis the present turn of the world, that some valuable qualities are evenridiculous, if not accompanied by the genteeler accomplishments. Plainness, simplicity, and quakerism, either in dress or manners, will byno means do; they must both be laced and embroidered; speaking, orwriting sense, without elegance and turn, will be very little persuasive;and the best figure in the world, without air and address, will be veryineffectual. Some pedants may have told you that sound sense and learningstand in, need of no ornaments; and, to support that assertion, elegantlyquote the vulgar proverb, that GOOD WINE NEEDS NO BUSH; but surely thelittle experience you have already had of the world must have convincedyou that the contrary of that assertion is true. All thoseaccomplishments are now in your power; think of them, and of them only. Ihope you frequent La Foire St. Laurent, which I see is now open; you willimprove more by going there with your mistress, than by staying at homeand 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 thinkI shall write before I have the pleasure of seeing you here, it may notbe amiss to prepare you a little for our interview, and for the time weshall pass together. Before kings and princes meet, ministers on eachside adjust the important points of precedence, arm chairs, right handand 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 theycommonly envy or hate, but most certainly distrust each other. We shallmeet upon very different terms; we want no such preliminaries: you knowmy tenderness, I know your affection. My only object, therefore, is tomake your short stay with me as useful as I can to you; and yours, Ihope, is to co-operate with me. Whether, by making it wholesome, I shallmake it pleasant to you, I am not sure. Emetics and cathartics I shallnot administer, because I am sure you do not want them; but foralteratives you must expect a great many; and I can tell you that I havea number of NOSTRUMS, which I shall communicate to nobody but yourself. To speak without a metaphor, I shall endeavor to assist your youth withall the experience that I have purchased, at the price of seven and fiftyyears. In order to this, frequent reproofs, corrections, and admonitionswill be necessary; but then, I promise you, that they shall be in agentle, friendly, and secret manner; they shall not put you out ofcountenance in company, nor out of humor when we are alone. I do notexpect 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 tolearn them, as far as your youth, my experience, and the time we shallpass together, will allow. You may have many inaccuracies (and to be sureyou have, for who has not at your age?) which few people will tell youof, and some nobody can tell you of but myself. You may possibly haveothers, too, which eyes less interested, and less vigilant than mine, donot discover; all those you shall hear of from one whose tenderness foryou will excite his curiosity and sharpen his penetration. The smallestinattention or error in manners, the minutest inelegance of diction, theleast awkwardness in your dress and carriage, will not escape myobservation, nor pass without amicable correction. Two, the most intimatefriends in the world, can freely tell each other their faults, and eventheir crimes, but cannot possibly tell each other of certain littleweaknesses; awkwardnesses, and blindnesses of self-love; to authorizethat unreserved freedom, the relation between us is absolutely necessary. For example, I had a very worthy friend, with whom I was intimate enoughto tell him his faults; he had but few; I told him of them; he took itkindly of me, and corrected them. But then, he had some weaknesses that Icould never tell him of directly, and which he was so little sensible ofhimself, that hints of them were lost upon him. He had a scrag neck, ofabout a yard long; notwithstanding which, bags being in fashion, truly hewould wear one to his wig, and did so; but never behind him, for, uponevery motion of his head, his bag came forward over one shoulder or theother. He took it into his head too, that he must occasionally danceminuets, because other people did; and he did so, not only extremely ill, but so awkward, so disjointed, slim, so meagre, was his figure, that hadhe danced as well as ever Marcel did, it would have been ridiculous inhim to have danced at all. I hinted these things to him as plainly asfriendship would allow, and to no purpose; but to have told him thewhole, 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 befatherless; and, considering the general run of sons, as seldom amisfortune to be childless. You and I form, I believe, an exception tothat rule; for, I am persuaded that we would neither of us change ourrelation, were it in our power. You will, I both hope and believe, be notonly the comfort, but the pride of my age; and, I am sure, I will be thesupport, the friend, the guide of your youth. Trust me without reserve; Iwill advise you without private interest, or secret envy. Mr. Harte willdo so too; but still there may be some little things proper for you toknow, and necessary for you to correct, which even his friendship wouldnot let him tell you of so freely as I should; and some, of which he maynot possibly be so good a judge of as I am, not having lived so much inthe great world. 

One principal topic of our conversation will be, not only the purity butthe elegance of the English language; in both which you are verydeficient. Another will be the constitution of this country, of which, Ibelieve, you know less than of most other countries in Europe. Manners, attentions, and address, will also be the frequent subjects of ourlectures; and whatever I know of that important and necessary art, theart 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 morevarious, and in some respects more useful than Professor Mascow's, andtherefore, I can tell you, that I expect to be paid for them; but, aspossibly you would not care to part with your ready money, and as I donot think that it would be quite handsome in me to accept it, I willcompound for the payment, and take it in attention and practice. 

Pray remember to part with all your friends, acquaintances, andmistresses, if you have any at Paris, in such a manner as may make themnot only willing but impatient to see you there again. Assure them ofyour desire of returning to them; and do it in a manner that they maythink you in earnest, that is 'avec onction et une especed'attendrissement'. All people say, pretty near the same things uponthose occasions; it is the manner only that makes the difference; andthat difference is great. Avoid, however, as much as you can, chargingyourself with commissions, in your return from hence to Paris; I know, byexperience, that they are exceedingly troublesome, commonly expensive, and very seldom satisfactory at last, to the persons who gave them; someyou cannot refuse, to people to whom you are obliged, and would oblige inyour turn; but as to common fiddle-faddle commissions, you may excuseyourself from them with truth, by saying that you are to return to Paristhrough Flanders, and see all those great towns; which I intend you shalldo, and stay a week or ten days at Brussels. Adieu! A good journey toyou, if this is my last; if not, I can repeat again what I shall wishconstantly. 

LETTER CLIII

LONDON, December 19, O. S. 1751--[Note the date, which indicates that thesojourn with the author has ended. ]

MY DEAR FRIEND: You are now entered upon a scene of business, where Ihope you will one day make a figure. Use does a great deal, but care andattention must be joined to it. The first thing necessary in writingletters of business, is extreme clearness and perspicuity; everyparagraph should be so clear and unambiguous, that the dullest fellow inthe world may not be able to mistake it, nor obliged to read it twice inorder 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 ofbusiness, as they are sometimes (if judiciously used) proper and pleasingin familiar letters, upon common and trite subjects. In business, anelegant simplicity, the result of care, not of labor, is required. Business must be well, not affectedly dressed; but by no meansnegligently. Let your first attention be to clearness, and read everyparagraph after you have written it, in the critical view of discoveringwhether 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; betherefore exceedingly attentive to them, and take care to mark out withprecision their particular relations. For example, Mr. Johnson acquaintedme 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 aname, though unnecessarily, ten times, than to have the person mistakenonce. WHO, you know, is singly relative to persons, and cannot be appliedto things; WHICH and THAT are chiefly relative to things, but notabsolutely exclusive of persons; for one may say, the man THAT robbed orkilled 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, thoughchiefly relative to things, cannot be always used indifferently as tothings, and the 'euoovca' must sometimes determine their place. Forinstance, the letter WHICH I received from you, WHICH you referred to inyour last, WHICH came by Lord Albemarle's messenger WHICH I showed tosuch-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'smessenger, and WHICH I showed to such-a-one. 

Business does not exclude (as possibly you wish it did) the usual termsof politeness and good-breeding; but, on the contrary, strictly requiresthem: such as, I HAVE THE HONOR TO ACQUAINT YOUR LORDSHIP; PERMIT ME TOASSURE YOU; IF I MAY BE ALLOWED TO GIVE MY OPINION, etc. For the ministerabroad, 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 CERTAINGRACES--but then, they must be scattered with a sparing and skillfulhand; they must fit their place exactly. They must decently adorn withoutencumbering, and modestly shine without glaring. But as this is theutmost degree of perfection in letters of business, I would not adviseyou to attempt those embellishments, till you have first laid yourfoundation well. 

Cardinal d'Ossat's letters are the true letters of business; those ofMonsieur 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, nodeclamation. But (I repeat it again) there is an elegant simplicity anddignity of style absolutely necessary for good letters of business;attend to that carefully. Let your periods be harmonious, without seemingto be labored; and let them not be too long, for that always occasions adegree of obscurity. I should not mention correct orthography, but thatyou very often fail in that particular, which will bring ridicule uponyou; for no man is allowed to spell ill. I wish too that your handwritingwere much better; and I cannot conceive why it is not, since every manmay 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 theexterior, even of a packet, that may please or displease; andconsequently worth some attention. 

You say that your time is very well employed; and so it is, though as yetonly in the outlines, and first ROUTINE of business. They are previouslynecessary to be known; they smooth the way for parts and dexterity. Business requires no conjuration nor supernatural talents, as peopleunacquainted with it are apt to think. Method, diligence, and discretion, will carry a man, of good strong common sense, much higher than thefinest parts, without them, can do. 'Par negotiis, neque supra', is thetrue character of a man of business; but then it implies ready attentionand no ABSENCES, and a flexibility and versatility of attention from oneobject to another, without being engrossed by anyone. 

Be upon your guard against the pedantry and affectation of business whichyoung people are apt to fall into, from the pride of being concerned init young. They look thoughtful, complain of the weight of business, throwout 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 whomyou are to transact it; and learn to seem vacuus and idle, when you havethe most business. Of all things, the 'volte sciollo', and the 'pensieristretti', are necessary. Adieu. 

LETTER CLIV

LONDON, December 30, O. S. 1751

MY DEAR FRIEND: The parliaments are the courts of justice of France, andare what our courts of justice in Westminster-Hall are here. They usedanciently to follow the court, and administer justice in presence of theKing. Philip le Bel first fixed it at Paris, by an edict of 1302. Itconsisted then of but one chambre, which was called 'la Chambre desPrelats', most of the members being ecclesiastics; but the multiplicityof business made it by degrees necessary to create several otherchambres. It consists now of seven chambres:

'La Grande Chambre', which is the highest court of justice, and to whichappeals lie from the others. 

'Les cinq Chambres des Enquetes', which are like our Common Pleas, andCourt of Exchequer. 

'La Tournelle', which is the court for criminal justice, and answers toour Old Bailey and King's Bench. 

There are in all twelve parliaments in France: 1. Paris 2. Toulouse3. Grenoble 4. Bourdeaux 5. Dijon 6. Rouen 7. Aix en Provence8. Rennes en Bretagne 9. Pau en Navarre 10. Metz 11. Dole en FrancheComte 12. Douay

There are three 'Conseils Souverains', which may almost be calledparliaments; they are those of:

Perpignan Arras Alsace

For further particulars of the French parliaments, read 'Bernard de laRochefavin des Parlemens de France', and other authors, who have treatedthat subject constitutionally. But what will be still better, converseupon it with people of sense and knowledge, who will inform you of theparticular objects of the several chambres, and the businesses of therespective members, as, 'les Presidens, les Presidens a Mortier' (theselast so called from their black velvet caps laced with gold), 'lesMaitres tres des Requetes, les Greffiers, le Procureur General, lesAvocats Generaux, les Conseillers', etc. The great point in dispute isconcerning the powers of the parliament of Paris in matters of state, andrelatively to the Crown. They pretend to the powers of the States-Generalof France when they used to be assembled (which, I think, they have notbeen since the reign of Lewis the Thirteenth, in the year 1615). TheCrown denies those pretensions, and considers them only as courts ofjustice. Mezeray seems to be on the side of the parliament in thisquestion, which is very well worth your inquiry. But, be that as it will, the parliament of Paris is certainly a very respectable body, and muchregarded by the whole kingdom. The edicts of the Crown, especially thosefor 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 ofthat; but to have a decent appearance, and to procure a willingacquiescence in the nation. And the Crown itself, absolute as it is, doesnot love that strong opposition, and those admirable remonstrances, whichit sometimes meets with from the parliaments. Many of those detachedpieces are very well worth your collecting; and I remember, a year or twoago, a remonstrance of the parliament of Douay, upon the subject, as Ithink, of the 'Vingtieme', which was in my mind one of the finest andmost moving compositions I ever read. They owned themselves, indeed, tobe slaves, and showed their chains: but humbly begged of his Majesty tomake them a little lighter, and less galling. 

THE STATES OF FRANCE were general assemblies of the three states ororders of the kingdom; the Clergy, the Nobility, and the 'Tiers Etat', that is, the people. They used to be called together by the King, uponthe most important affairs of state, like our Lords and Commons inparliament, and our Clergy in convocation. Our parliament is our states, and the French parliaments are only their courts of justice. The Nobilityconsisted of all those of noble extraction, whether belonging to theSWORD or to the ROBE, excepting such as were chosen (which sometimeshappened) by the Tiers Etat as their deputies to the States-General. TheTiers Etat was exactly our House of Commons, that is, the people, represented by deputies of their own choosing. Those who had the mostconsiderable places, 'dans la robe', assisted at those assemblies, ascommissioners on the part of the Crown. The States met, for the firsttime that I can find (I mean by the name of 'les etats'), in the reign ofPharamond, 424, when they confirmed the Salic law. From that time theyhave been very frequently assembled, sometimes upon important occasions, as making war and peace, reforming abuses, etc. ; at other times, uponseemingly trifling ones, as coronations, marriages, etc. Francis theFirst assembled them, in 1526, to declare null and void his famous treatyof Madrid, signed and sworn to by him during his captivity there. Theygrew troublesome to the kings and to their ministers, and were but seldomcalled after the power of the Crown grew strong; and they have never beenheard of since the year 1615. Richelieu came and shackled the nation, andMazarin and Lewis the Fourteenth riveted the shackles. 

There still subsist in some provinces in France, which are called 'pais detats', an humble local imitation, or rather mimicry, of the great'etats', as in Languedoc, Bretagne, etc. They meet, they speak, theygrumble, and finally submit to whatever the King orders. 

Independently of the intrinsic utility of this kind of knowledge to everyman 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 toknowledge as incapacity; for, in truth, what difference is there betweena man who will not, and a man who cannot be informed? This differenceonly, 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 fromlaziness, 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 avoluntary privation of all that useful knowledge for which they are sentabroad; and yet, at that age, the most useful knowledge is the most easyto be acquired; conversation being the book, and the best book in whichit is contained. The drudgery of dry grammatical learning is over, andthe fruits of it are mixed with, and adorned by, the flowers ofconversation. How many of our young men have been a year at Rome, and aslong at Paris, without knowing the meaning and institution of theConclave in the former, and of the parliament in the latter? and thismerely for want of asking the first people they met with in those severalplaces, who could at least have given them some general notions of thosematters. 

You will, I hope, be wiser, and omit no opportunity (for opportunitiespresent themselves every hour of the day) of acquainting yourself withall those political and constitutional particulars of the kingdom andgovernment of France. For instance, when you hear people mention leChancelier, or 'le Garde de Sceaux', is it any great trouble for you toask, or for others to tell you, what is the nature, the powers, theobjects, and the profits of those two employments, either when joinedtogether, 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 anintendant of the same province, is, it not natural, is it not becoming, is it not necessary, for a stranger to inquire into their respectiverights and privileges? And yet, I dare say, there are very few Englishmenwho know the difference between the civil department of the Intendant, and the military powers of the others. When you hear (as I am persuadedyou must) every day of the 'Vingtieme', which is one in twenty, andconsequently five per cent. , inquire upon what that tax is laid, whetherupon lands, money, merchandise, or upon all three; how levied, and whatit is supposed to produce. When you find in books: (as you willsometimes) allusion to particular laws and customs, do not rest till youhave traced them up to their source. To give you two examples: you willmeet in some French comedies, 'Cri', or 'Clameur de Haro'; ask what itmeans, and you will be told that it is a term of the law in Normandy, andmeans citing, arresting, or obliging any person to appear in the courtsof justice, either upon a civil or a criminal account; and that it isderived from 'a Raoul', which Raoul was anciently Duke of Normandy, and aprince eminent for his justice; insomuch, that when any injustice wascommitted, the cry immediately was, 'Venez, a Raoul, a Raoul', whichwords are now corrupted and jumbled into 'haro'. Another, 'Le vol duChapon, that is, a certain district of ground immediately contiguous tothe mansion-seat of a family, and answers to what we call in EnglishDEMESNES. 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 bassecour'. This little district must go along with the mansion-seat, howeverthe rest of the estate may be divided. 

I do not mean that you should be a French lawyer; but I would not haveyou unacquainted with the general principles of their law, in mattersthat occur every day: Such is the nature of their descents, that is, theinheritance of lands: Do they all go to the eldest son, or are theyequally divided among the children of the deceased? In England, all landsunsettled descend to the eldest son, as heir-at-law, unless otherwisedisposed of by the father's will, except in the county of Kent, where aparticular custom prevails, called Gavelkind; by which, if the fatherdies intestate, all his children divide his lands equally among them. InGermany, as you know, all lands that, are not fiefs are equally dividedamong all the children, which ruins those families; but all male fiefs ofthe empire descend unalienably to the next male heir, which preservesthose families. In France, I believe, descents vary in differentprovinces. 

The nature of marriage contracts deserves inquiry. In England, thegeneral practice is, the husband takes all the wife's fortune; and inconsideration 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. InFrance it is not so, particularly at Paris; where 'la communaute desbiens' is established. Any married woman at Paris (IF YOU ARE ACQUAINTEDWITH ONE) can inform you of all these particulars. 

These and other things of the same nature, are the useful and rationalobjects of the curiosity of a man of sense and business. Could they onlybe attained by laborious researches in folio-books, and wormeatenmanuscripts, I should not wonder at a young fellow's being ignorant ofthem; but as they are the frequent topics of conversation, and to beknown by a very little degree of curiosity, inquiry and attention, it isunpardonable not to know them. 

Thus I have given you some hints only for your inquiries; 'l'Etat de laFrance, l'Almanach Royal', and twenty other such superficial books, willfurnish you with a thousand more. 'Approfondissez. '

How often, and how justly, have I since regretted negligences of thiskind in my youth! And how often have I since been at great trouble tolearn many things which I could then have learned without any! Saveyourself now, then, I beg of you, that regret and trouble hereafter. Askquestions, and many questions; and leave nothing till you are thoroughlyinformed of it. Such pertinent questions are far from being illbred ortroublesome to those of whom you ask them; on the contrary, they are atacit compliment to their knowledge; and people have a better opinion ofa young man, when they see him desirous to be informed. 

I have by last post received your two letters of the 1st and 5th ofJanuary, N. S. I am very glad that you have been at all the shows atVersailles: frequent the courts. I can conceive the murmurs of the Frenchat the poorness of the fireworks, by which they thought their king oftheir country degraded; and, in truth, were things always as they shouldbe, 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 yourselffirst; and inform yourself what the Sorbonne is by whom founded, and forwhat puraoses. 

Since you have time, you have done very well to take an Italian and aGerman master; but pray take care to leave yourelf time enough forcompany; for it is in company only that you can learn what will be muchmore 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 Itold 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 ofthat famous society the Sorbonne; but as I cannot wholly trust to thediligence of those inquiries, I will give you here the outlines of thatestablishment; which may possibly excite you to inform yourself ofparticulars, which you are more 'a portee' to know than I am. 

It was founded by Robert de Sorbon, in the year 1256 for sixteen poorscholars in divinity; four of each nation, of the university of which itmade a part; since that it hath been much extended and enriched, especially by the liberality and pride of Cardinal Richelieu; who made ita magnificent building for six-and-thirty doctors of that society to livein; besides which, there are six professors and schools for divinity. This society has long been famous for theological knowledge andexercitations. There unintelligible points are debated with passion, though they can never be determined by reason. Logical subtilties setcommon sense at defiance; and mystical refinements disfigure and disguisethe native beauty and simplicity of true natural religion; wildimaginations form systems, which weak minds adopt implicitly, and whichsense and reason oppose in vain; their voice is not strong enough to beheard in schools of divinity. Political views are by no means neglectedin those sacred places; and questions are agitated and decided, accordingto the degree of regard, or rather submission, which the Sovereign ispleased to show the Church. Is the King a slave to the Church, though atyrant to the laity? The least resistance to his will shall be declareddamnable. But if he will not acknowledge the superiority of theirspiritual over his temporal, nor even admit their 'imperium in imperio', which is the least they will compound for, it becomes meritorious notonly to resist, but to depose him. And I suppose that the boldpropositions 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 theirpublic disputations, in order to be informed both of the manner and thesubstance of those scholastic exercises. Pray remember to go to all thosekind of things. Do not put it off, as one is too apt to do those thingswhich one knows can be done every day, or any day; for one afterwardrepents extremely, when too late, the not having done them. 

But there is another (so-called) religious society, of which the minutestcircumstance deserves attention, and furnishes great matter for usefulreflections. 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 ofthe Romans; for within the same century it governed all Europe; and, inthe next, it extended its influence over the whole world. Its founder wasan abandoned profligate Spanish officer, Ignatius Loyola; who, in theyear 1521, being wounded in the leg at the 'siege of Pampeluna, went madfrom the smart of his wound, the reproaches of his conscience, and hisconfinement, during which he read the lives of the Saints. Consciousnessof guilt, a fiery temper, and a wild imagination, the common ingredientsof enthusiasm, made this madman devote himself to the particular serviceof the Virgin Mary; whose knight-errant he declared himself, in the verysame form in which the old knight-errants in romances used to declarethemselves the knights and champions of certain beautiful andincomparable princesses, whom sometimes they had, but oftener had not, seen. For Dulcinea del Toboso was by no means the first princess whom herfaithful and valorous knight had never seen in his life. The enthusiastwent to the Holy Land, from whence he returned to Spain, where he beganto learn Latin and philosophy at three-and-thirty years old, so that nodoubt but he made great progress in both. The better to carry on his madand wicked designs, he chose four disciples, or rather apostles, allSpaniards, viz, Laynes, Salmeron, Bobadilla, and Rodriguez. He thencomposed the rules and constitutions of his order; which, in the year1547, 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-fiveyears after his conversion, and sixteen years after the establishment ofhis society. He was canonized in the year 1609, and is doubtless now asaint 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 justlyto be admired. Suspected, collectively as an order, of the greatestcrimes, and convicted of many, they have either escaped punishment, ortriumphed after it; as in France, in the reign of Henry IV. They have, directly or indirectly, governed the consciences and the councils of allthe Catholic princes in Europe; they almost governed China in the reignof Cangghi; and they are now actually in possession of the Paraguay inAmerica, pretending, but paying no obedience to the Crown of Spain. As acollective body they are detested, even by all the Catholics, notexcepting 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, thatpassive, implicit, unlimited obedience to their General (who alwaysresides at Rome), and to the superiors of their several houses, appointedby him. This obedience is observed by them all to a most astonishingdegree; and, I believe, there is no one society in the world, of which somany individuals sacrifice their private interest to the general one ofthe society itself. The second is the education of youth, which they havein a manner engrossed; there they give the first, and the first are thelasting impressions; those impressions are always calculated to befavorable to the society. I have known many Catholics, educated by theJesuits, who, though they detested the society, from reason andknowledge, have always remained attached to it, from habit and prejudice. The Jesuits know, better than any set of people in the world, theimportance of the art of pleasing, and study it more; they become allthings 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 thepagans to be less than half Christians. In private families they begin byinsinuating themselves as friends, they grow to be favorites, and theyend DIRECTORS. Their manners are not like those of any other regulars inthe world, but gentle, polite, and engaging. They are all carefully bredup to that particular destination, to which they seem to have a naturalturn; for which reason one sees most Jesuits excel in some particularthing. They even breed up some for martyrdom in case of need; as thesuperior of a Jesuit seminary at Rome told Lord Bolingbroke. 'E abbiamoanche martiri per il martirio, se bisogna'. 

Inform yourself minutely of everything concerning this extraordinaryestablishment; go into their houses, get acquainted with individuals, hear some of them preach. The finest preacher I ever heard in my life isle Pere Neufville, who, I believe, preaches still at Paris, and is somuch in the best company, that you may easily get personally acquaintedwith him. 

If you would know their 'morale' read Pascal's 'Lettres Provinciales', inwhich it is very truly displayed from their own writings. 

Upon the whole, this is certain, that a society of which so little goodis said, and so much ill believed, and that still not only subsists, butflourishes, must be a very able one. It is always mentioned as a proof ofthe superior abilities of the Cardinal Richelieu, that, though hated byall the nation, and still more by his master, he kept his power in spiteof both. 

I would earnestly wish you to do everything now, which I wish, that I haddone 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 inCatholic countries, inform yourself of all the forms and ceremonies ofthat tawdry church; see their converts both of men and women, know theirseveral rules and orders, attend their most remarkable ceremonies; havetheir 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 anathletic Hibernian, handsome in his person, but excessively awkward andvulgar in his air and manner. She inquired much after you, and, Ithought, with interest. I answered her as a 'Mezzano' should do: 'Et jepronai votre tendresse, vos soins, et vos soupirs'. 

When you meet with any British returning to their own country, pray sendme by them any little 'brochures, factums, theses', etc. , 'qui font dubruit 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 theVicomte de Grave; and at that time the general topic of conversation atParis. ]--and what do you think of it? Let me know, for I am determined toform my taste upon yours. I hear that the situations and incidents arewell brought on, and the catastrophe unexpected and surprising, but theverses 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 thejudgment; are surely preferable to the conversations of our mixedcompanies 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 andcultivated as the French; besides that they are naturally more seriousand silent. 

I could wish there were a treaty made between the French and Englishtheatres, in which both parties should make considerable concessions. TheEnglish ought to give up their notorious violations of all the unities;and all their massacres, racks, dead bodies, and mangled carcasses, whichthey so frequently exhibit upon their stage. The French should engage tohave more action and less declamation; and not to cram and crowd thingstogether, to almost a degree of impossibility, from a too scrupulousadherence to the unities. The English should restrain the licentiousnessof their poets, and the French enlarge the liberty of theirs; their poetsare the greatest slaves in their country, and that is a bold word; oursare the most tumultuous subjects in England, and that is saying a gooddeal. Under such regulations one might hope to see a play in which oneshould not be lulled to sleep by the length of a monotonical declamation, nor frightened and shocked by the barbarity of the action. The unity oftime extended occasionally to three or four days, and the unity of placebroke into, as far as the same street, or sometimes the same town; bothwhich, I will affirm, are as probable as four-and-twenty hours, and thesame room. 

More indulgence too, in my mind, should be shown, than the French arewilling 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 finethings in all the violence of grief, love, rage, etc. , yet, I can as wellsuppose that, as I can that they should talk to themselves for half anhour; which they must necessarily do, or no tragedy could be carried on, unless they had recourse to a much greater absurdity, the choruses of theancients. Tragedy is of a nature, that one must see it with a degree ofself-deception; we must lend ourselves a little to the delusion; and I amvery willing to carry that complaisance a little farther than the Frenchdo. 

Tragedy must be something bigger than life, or it would not affect us. Innature the most violent passions are silent; in tragedy they must speak, and speak with dignity too. Hence the necessity of their being written inverse, and unfortunately for the French, from the weakness of theirlanguage, in rhymes. And for the same reason, Cato the Stoic, expiring atUtica, rhymes masculine and feminine at Paris; and fetches his lastbreath at London, in most harmmonious and correct blank verse. 

It is quite otherwise with Comedy, which should be mere common life, andnot one jot bigger. Every character should speak upon the stage, not onlywhat it would utter in the situation there represented, but in the samemanner in which it would express it. For which reason I cannot allowrhymes in comedy, unless they were put into the mouth, and came out ofthe mouth of a mad poet. But it is impossible to deceive one's selfenough (nor is it the least necessary in comedy) to suppose a dull rogueof an usurer cheating, or 'gross Jean' blundering in the finest rhymes inthe world. 

As for Operas, they are essentially too absurd and extravagant tomention; I look upon them as a magic scene, contrived to please the eyesand the ears, at the expense of the understanding; and I considersinging, rhyming, and chiming heroes, and princesses, and philosophers, as I do the hills, the trees, the birds, and the beasts, who amicablyjoined in one common country dance, to the irresistible turn of Orpheus'slyre. Whenever I go to an opera, I leave my sense and reason at the doorwith 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 acknowledgedas many sins against the established taste in both countries, as a frankheretic could have owned against the established church in either, but Iam now privileged by my age to taste and think for myself, and not tocare what other people think of me in those respects; an advantage whichyouth, among its many advantages, hath not. It must occasionally andoutwardly conform, to a certain degree, to establish tastes, fashions, and decisions. A young man may, with a becoming modesty, dissent, inprivate companies, from public opinions and prejudices: but he must notattack them with warmth, nor magisterially set up his own sentimentsagainst them. Endeavor to hear, and know all opinions; receive them withcomplaisance; form your own with coolness, and give it with modesty. 

I have received a letter from Sir John Lambert, in which he requests meto 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 toplace the postage of my letters. I do not trouble him with a letter inanswer, since you can execute the commission. Pray make my compliments tohim, and assure him that I will do all I can to procure him Mr. Spencer'sbusiness; but that his most effectual way will be by Messrs. Hoare, whoare Mr. Spencer's cashiers, and who will undoubtedly have their choiceupon whom they will give him his credit. As for the postage of theletters, 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; forthey leave London this week: whenever you converse with them, I desire itmay 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 theKing and the parliament, with regard to the affairs of the hospitals, bytaking them out of the hands of the Archbishop of Paris, and placing themin Monsieur d'Argenson's: if this be true, that compromise, as it iscalled, is clearly a victory on the side of the court, and a defeat onthe part of the parliament; for if the parliament had a right, they hadit 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 abeauty: you consider things in the worst light, to show your skill, atthe expense of your pleasure; I view them in the best, that I may havemore pleasure, though at the expense of my judgment. A 'trompeur trompeuret demi' is prettily said; and, if you please, you may call 'Varon, unNormand', and 'Sostrate, un Manceau, qui vaut un Normand et demi'; and, considering the 'denouement' in the light of trick upon trick, it wouldundoubtedly 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 uponwhich all turns, is to discover and ascertain who Cleonice really is. There are doubts concerning her 'etat'; how shall they be cleared? Hadthe truth been extorted from Varon (who alone knew) by the rack, it wouldhave been a true tragical 'denouement'. But that would probably not havedone with Varon, who is represented as a bold, determined, wicked, and atthat time desperate fellow; for he was in the hands of an enemy who heknew could not forgive him, with common prudence or safety. The rackwould, therefore, have extorted no truth from him; but he would have diedenjoying the doubts of his enemies, and the confusion that mustnecessarily attend those doubts. A stratagem is therefore thought of todiscover what force and terror could not, and the stratagem such as noking or minister would disdain, to get at an important discovery. If youcall that stratagem a TRICK, you vilify it, and make it comical; but callthat 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 iscommonly said, and more particularly by Lord Shaftesbury, that ridiculeis the best test of truth; for that it will not stick where it is notjust. I deny it. A truth learned in a certain light, and attacked incertain words, by men of wit and humor, may, and often doth, becomeridiculous, at least so far that the truth is only remembered andrepeated for the sake of the ridicule. The overturn of Mary of Medicisinto a river, where she was half-drowned, would never have beenremembered if Madame de Vernuel, who saw it, had not said 'la Reineboit'. Pleasure or malignity often gives ridicule a weight which it doesnot deserve. The versification, I must confess, is too much neglected andtoo 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, Iwill readily compound for its having little or no plot. I chiefly minddialogue and character in comedies. Let dull critics feed upon thecarcasses of plays; give me the taste and the dressing. 

I am very glad you went to Versailles to see the ceremony of creating thePrince de Conde 'Chevalier de l' Ordre'; and I do not doubt but that uponthis occasion you informed yourself thoroughly of the institution andrules of that order. If you did, you were certainly told it wasinstituted by Henry III. Immediately after his return, or rather hisflight from Poland; he took the hint of it at Venice, where he had seenthe original manuscript of an order of the 'St. Esprit, ou droit desir', which had been instituted in 1352, by Louis d'Anjou, King of Jerusalemand Sicily, and husband to Jane, Queen of Naples, Countess of Provence. This Order was under the protection of St. Nicholas de Bari, whose imagehung to the collar. Henry III. Found the Order of St. Michael prostitutedand degraded, during the civil wars; he therefore joined it to his newOrder of the St. Esprit, and gave them both together; for which reasonevery 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 ONEHUNDRED, exclusive of the sovereign. There, are many officers who wearthe riband of this Order, like the other knights; and what is verysingular is, that these officers frequently sell their employments, butobtain leave to wear the blue riband still, though the purchasers ofthose offices wear it also. 

As you will have been a great while in France, people will expect thatyou should be 'au fait' of all these sort of things relative to thatcountry. But the history of all the Orders of all countries is well worthyour knowledge; the subject occurs often, and one should not be ignorantof it, for fear of some such accident as happened to a solid Dane atParis, who, upon seeing 'L'Ordre du St. Esprit', said, 'Notre St. Espritchez nous c'est un Elephant'. Almost all the princes in Germany havetheir Orders too; not dated, indeed, from any important events, ordirected to any great object, but because they will have orders, to showthat they may; as some of them, who have the 'jus cudendae monetae', borrow ten shillings worth of gold to coin a ducat. However, wherever youmeet 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 youinquire about them, do not seem to laugh. 

I thank you for le Mandement de Monseigneur l'Archeveyue; it is very welldrawn, and becoming an archbishop. But pray do not lose sight of a muchmore important object, I mean the political disputes between the King andthe parliament, and the King and the clergy; they seem both to bepatching up; but, however, get the whole clue to them, as far as theyhave gone. 

I received a letter yesterday from Madame Monconseil, who assures me youhave gained ground 'du cote des maniires', and that she looks upon you tobe 'plus qu'a moitie chemin'. I am very glad to hear this, because, ifyou 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 soextremely 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; youcertainly have--I cannot possibly have any interest in it. If then youwill allow me, as I believe you may, to be a judge of what is useful andnecessary to you, you must, in consequence, be convinced of the infiniteimportance of a point which I take so much pains to inculcate. 

I hear that the new Duke of Orleans 'a remercie Monsieur de Melfort, andI believe, 'pas sans raison', having had obligations to him; 'mais il nel'a pas remercie en mari poli', but rather roughly. Il faut que ce soitun bourru'. I am told, too, that people get bits of his father's rags, byway 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 makeallowances for such in all your plans and reasonings. Study thecharacters of the people you have to do with, and know what they are, instead of thinking them what they should be; address yourself generallyto the senses, to the heart, and to the weaknesses of mankind, but veryrarely to their reason. 

Good-night or good-morrow to you, according to the time you shall receivethis 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 ofsending you, and you will have the pleasure of reading, a work of LordBolingbroke's, in two volumes octavo, "Upon the Use of History, " inseveral letters to Lord Hyde, then Lord Cornbury. It is now put into thepress. It is hard to determine whether this work will instruct or pleasemost: the most material historical facts, from the great era of thetreaty of Munster, are touched upon, accompanied by the most solidreflections, and adorned by all that elegance of style which was peculiarto himself, and in which, if Cicero equals, he certainly does not exceedhim; but every other writer falls short of him. I would advise you almostto get this book by heart. I think you have a turn to history, you loveit, and have a memory to retain it: this book will teach you the properuse of it. Some people load their memories indiscriminately withhistorical facts, as others do their stomachs with food; and bring outthe one, and bring up the other, entirely crude and undigested. You willfind in Lord Bolingbroke's book an infallible specific against thatepidemical complaint. --[It is important to remember that at this timeLord Bolingbroke's philosophical works had not appeared; which accountsfor Lord Chesterfield's recommending to his son, in this, as well as insome foregoing passages, the study of Lord Bolingbroke's writings. ]

I remember a gentleman who had read history in this thoughtless andundistinguishing manner, and who, having traveled, had gone through theValtelline. He told me that it was a miserable poor country, andtherefore it was, surely, a great error in Cardinal Richelieu to makesuch a rout, and put France to so much expense about it. Had my friendread history as he ought to have done, he would have known that the greatobject of that great minister was to reduce the power of the House ofAustria; and in order to that, to cut off as much as he could thecommunication between the several parts of their then extensivedominions; which reflections would have justified the Cardinal to him, inthe 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 anobvious and a true one. It is, that more people have made great figuresand great fortunes in courts by their exterior accomplishments, than bytheir interior qualifications. Their engaging address, the politeness oftheir manners, their air, their turn, hath almost always paved the wayfor their superior abilities, if they have such, to exert themselves. They have been favorites before they have been ministers. In courts, anuniversal gentleness and 'douceur dans les manieres' is most absolutelynecessary: an offended fool, or a slighted valet de chambre, may verypossibly do you more hurt at court, than ten men of merit can do yougood. Fools, and low people, are always jealous of their dignity, andnever forget nor forgive what they reckon a slight: on the other hand, they take civility and a little attention as a favor; remember, andacknowledge it: this, in my mind, is buying them cheap; and thereforethey are worth buying. The prince himself, who is rarely the shininggenius of his court, esteems you only by hearsay but likes you by hissenses; that is, from your air, your politeness, and your manner ofaddressing 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 elegantpoliteness, easy and engaging manners, universal attention, aninsinuating gentleness, and all those 'je ne sais quoi' that compose theGRACES. 

I am this moment disagreeably interrupted by a letter; not from you, as Iexpected, but from a friend of yours at Paris, who informs me that youhave a fever which confines you at home. Since you have a fever, I amglad you have prudence enough in it to stay at home, and take care ofyourself; a little more prudence might probably have prevented it. Yourblood is young, and consequently hot; and you naturally make a great dealby 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 avoidfevers. Lord Bacon, who was a very great physician in both senses of theword, hath this aphorism in his "Essay upon Health, " 'Nihil magis adSanitatem tribuit quam crebrae et domesticae purgationes'. By'domesticae', he means those simple uncompounded purgatives whicheverybody can administer to themselves; such as senna-tea, stewed prunesand senria, chewing a little rhubarb, or dissolving an ounce and a halfof manna in fair water, with the juice of a lemon to make it palatable. Such gentle and unconfining evacuations would certainly prevent thosefeverish attacks to which everybody at your age is subject. 

By the way, I do desire, and insist, that whenever, from anyindisposition, you are not able to write to me upon the fixed days, thatChristian shall; and give me a TRUE account how you are. I do not expectfrom him the Ciceronian epistolary style; but I will content myself withthe Swiss simplicity and truth. 

I hope you extend your acquaintance at Paris, and frequent variety ofcompanies; the only way of knowing the world; every set of companydiffers in some particulars from another; and a man of business must, inthe course of his life, have to do with all sorts. It is a very greatadvantage to know the languages of the several countries one travels in;and different companies may, in some degree, be considered as differentcountries; each hath its distinctive language, customs, and manners: knowthem all, and you will wonder at none. 

Adieu, child. Take care of your health; there are no pleasures withoutit. 

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 unquestionablycome nearer it, than those who from despair, negligence, or indolence, leave to chance the work of skill. This maxim holds equally true incommon life; those who aim at perfection will come infinitely nearer itthan those desponding or indolent spirits, who foolishly say tothemselves: Nobody is perfect; perfection is unattainable; to attempt itis chimerical; I shall do as well as others; why then should I givemyself trouble to be what I never can, and what, according to the commoncourse of things, I need not be, PERFECT?

I am very sure that I need not point out to you the weakness and thefolly of this reasoning, if it deserves the name of reasoning. It woulddiscourage and put a stop to the exertion of any one of our faculties. Onthe contrary, a man of sense and spirit says to himself: Though the pointof perfection may (considering the imperfection of our nature) beunattainable, my care, my endeavors, my attention, shall not be wantingto get as near it as I can. I will approach it every day, possibly, I mayarrive at it at last; at least, what I am sure is in my own power, I willnot be distanced. Many fools (speaking of you) say to me: What! would youhave 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 iscommonly called perfection in a character I maintain to be attainable, and not only that, but in every man's power. He hath, continue they, agood head, a good heart, a good fund of knowledge, which would increasedaily: What would you have more? Why, I would have everything more thatcan adorn and complete a character. Will it do his head, his heart, orhis knowledge any harm, to have the utmost delicacy of manners, the mostshining advantages of air and address, the most endearing attentions, andthe most engaging graces? But as he is, say they, he is loved wherever heis known. I am very glad of it, say I; but I would have him be likedbefore he is known, and loved afterward. I would have him, by his firstabord and address, make people wish to know him, and inclined to lovehim: he will save a great deal of time by it. Indeed, reply they, you aretoo nice, too exact, and lay too much stress upon things that are of verylittle consequence. Indeed, rejoin I, you know very little of the natureof mankind, if you take those things to be of little consequence: onecannot be too attentive to them; it is they that always engage the heart, of which the understanding is commonly the bubble. And I would muchrather that he erred in a point of grammar, of history, of philosophy, etc. , than in point of manners and address. But consider, he is veryyoung; all this will come in time. I hope so; but that time must be whenhe is young, or it will never be at all; the right 'pli' must be takenyoung, 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 reasonto be satisfied with him. I hope and believe he will do well, but I wouldhave him do better than well. I am very well pleased with him, but Iwould be more, I would be proud of him. I would have him have lustre aswell as weight. Did you ever know anybody that reunited all thesetalents? Yes, I did; Lord Bolingbroke joined all the politeness, themanners, 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 whatshould 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 sensemust tell him are, of infinite consequence to him, and which therefore Iwill not suppose him capable of either neglecting or despising. 

This (to tell you the whole truth) is the result of a controversy thatpassed yesterday, between Lady Hervey and myself, upon your subject, andalmost in the very words. I submit the decision of it to yourself; letyour own good sense determine it, and make you act in consequence of thatdetermination. The receipt to make this composition is short andinfallible; here I give it to you:

Take variety of the best company, wherever you are; be minutely attentiveto every word and action; imitate respectively those whom you observe tobe distinguished and considered for any one accomplishment; then mix allthose several accomplishments together, and serve them up yourself toothers. 

I hope your fair, or rather your brown AMERICAN is well. I hear that shemakes very handsome presents, if she is not so herself. I am told thereare people at Paris who expect, from this secret connection, to see intime 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 mostuniversal applause; to-night is his third night, and I am going to it. Idid not think it would have succeeded so well, considering how long ourBritish audiences have been accustomed to murder, racks, and poison, inevery tragedy; but it affected the heart so much, that it triumphed overhabit and prejudice. All the women cried, and all the men were moved. Theprologue, which is a very good one, was made entirely by Garrick. Theepilogue is old Cibber's; but corrected, though not enough, by Francis. He will get a great deal of, money by it; and, consequently, be betterable to lend you sixpence, upon any emergency. 

The parliament of Paris, I find by the newspapers, has not carried itspoint concerning the hospitals, and, though the King hath given up theArchbishop, yet as he has put them under the management and direction 'duGrand Conseil', the parliament is equally out of the question. This willnaturally put you upon inquiring into the constitution of the 'GrandConseil'. You will, doubtless, inform yourself who it is composed of, what things are 'de son ressort', whether or not there lies an appealfrom thence to any other place; and of all other particulars, that maygive you a clear notion of this assembly. There are also three or fourother Conseils in France, of which you ought to know the constitution andthe objects; I dare say you do know them already; but if you do not, loseno time in informing yourself. These things, as I have often told you, are best learned in various French companies: but in no English ones, fornone of our countrymen trouble their heads about them. To use a verytrite image, collect, like the bee, your store from every quarter. Insome companies ('parmi les fermiers generaux nommement') you may, byproper inquiries, get a general knowledge, at least, of 'les affaires desfinances'. When you are with 'des gens de robe', suck them with regard tothe constitution, and civil government, and 'sic de caeteris'. This showsyou the advantage of keeping a great deal of different French company; anadvantage much superior to any that you can possibly receive fromloitering and sauntering away evenings in any English company at Paris, not even excepting Lord A------. Love of ease, and fear of restraint (toboth which I doubt you are, for a young fellow, too much addicted) mayinvite you among your countrymen: but pray withstand those meantemptations, 'et prenez sur vous', for the sake of being in thoseassemblies, 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, knoweverything and everybody there; that when you leave it for other places, you may be 'au fait', and even able to explain whatever you may hearmentioned concerning it. Adieu. 

LETTER CLXI

LONDON, March 2, O. S. 1752. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: Whereabouts are you in Ariosto? Or have you gone throughthat most ingenious contexture of truth and lies, of serious andextravagant, of knights-errant, magicians, and all that various matterwhich 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 morein description than Ariosto. What can be more seducing and voluptuous, than the description of Alcina's person and palace? What more ingeniouslyextravagant, 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 isworth your attention, not only as an ingenious poem, but as the source ofall modern tales, novels, fables, and romances; as Ovid's"Metamorphoses;" was of the ancient ones; besides, that when you haveread 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 threeauthors, you will, in my opinion, have read all the works of inventionthat are worth reading in that language; though the Italians would bevery angry at me for saying so. 

A gentleman should know those which I call classical works, in everylanguage; such as Boileau, Corneille, Racine, Moliere, etc. , in French;Milton, Dryden, Pope, Swift, etc. , in English; and the three authorsabove mentioned in Italian; whether you have any such in German I am notquite sure, nor, indeed, am I inquisitive. These sort of books adorn themind, improve the fancy, are frequently alluded to by, and are often thesubjects of conversations of the best companies. As you have languages toread, and memory to retain them, the knowledge of them is very well worththe little pains it will cost you, and will enable you to shine incompany. It is not pedantic to quote and allude to them, which it wouldbe with regard to the ancients. 

Among the many advantages which you have had in your education, I do notconsider your knowledge of several languages as the least. You need nottrust to translations; you can go to the source; you can both converseand negotiate with people of all nations, upon equal terms; which is byno means the case of a man, who converses or negotiates in a languagewhich those with whom he hath to do know much better than himself. Inbusiness, 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, bythe propriety or impropriety, the elegance or inelegance of one singleword. As therefore you now know four modern languages well, I would haveyou study (and, by the way, it will be very little trouble to you) toknow them correctly, accurately, and delicately. Read some little booksthat treat of them, and ask questions concerning their delicacies, ofthose who are able to answer you. As, for instance, should I say inFrench, 'la lettre que je vous ai ECRIT', or, 'la lettre que je vous aiECRITE'? in which, I think, the French differ among themselves. There isa 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 'LesSynonymes Francois. There are books of that kind upon the Italianlanguage, into some of which I would advise you to dip; possibly theGerman language may have something of the same sort, and since youalready speak it, the more properly you speak it the better; one would, Ithink, as far as possible, do all one does correctly and elegantly. It isextremely engaging to people of every nation, to meet with a foreignerwho hath taken pains enough to speak their language correctly; itflatters that local and national pride and prejudice of which everybodyhath some share. 

Francis's "Eugenia, " which I will send you, pleased most people of goodtaste here; the boxes were crowded till the sixth night, when the pit andgallery were totally deserted, and it was dropped. Distress, withoutdeath, was not sufficient to affect a true British audience, so longaccustomed to daggers, racks, and bowls of poison: contrary to Horace'srule, they desire to see Medea murder her children upon the stage. Thesentiments were too delicate to move them; and their hearts are to betaken 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 SirCharles Hotham? In this case, have you forwarded it to him? If you havenot had an opportunity, you will have one soon; which I desire you willnot omit; it is by Monsieur d'Aillion, whom you will see in a few days atParis, in his way to Geneva, where Sir Charles now is, and will remainsome 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 amsure you would have written, according to your engagement and myrequisition. 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 thatthe best and most robust health requires some degree of attention topreserve. Young fellows, thinking they have so much health and timebefore them, are very apt to neglect or lavish both, and beggarthemselves before they are aware: whereas a prudent economy in both wouldmake them rich indeed; and so far from breaking in upon their pleasures, would improve, and almost perpetuate them. Be you wiser, and, before itis 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 Ihave often touched upon formerly, is a subject that, from its importance, will bear repetition. You have it is true, a great deal of time beforeyou; but, in this period of your life, one hour usefully employed may beworth more than four-and-twenty hereafter; a minute is precious to younow, whole days may possibly not be so forty years hence. Whatever timeyou allow, or can snatch for serious reading (I say snatch, becausecompany and the knowledge of the world is now your chief object), employit in the reading of some one book, and that a good one, till you havefinished it: and do not distract your mind with various matters at thesame time. In this light I would recommend to you to read 'tout de suite'Grotius 'de Jure Belli et Pacis', translated by Barbeyrac, andPuffendorff's 'Jus Gentium', translated by the same hand. For accidentalquarters 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 byhalves, but finish it without interruption, if possible. Business mustnot be sauntered and trifled with; and you must not say to it, as Felixdid to Paul, "At a more convenient season I will speak to thee. " The mostconvenient season for business is the first; but study and business insome measure point out their own times to a man of sense; time is muchoftener squandered away in the wrong choice and improper methods ofamusement and pleasures. 

Many people think that they are in pleasures, provided they are neitherin study nor in business. Nothing like it; they are doing nothing, andmight just as well be asleep. They contract habitudes from laziness, andthey only frequent those places where they are free from all restraintsand 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 livelypleasures, or the school of your own improvements; let every company yougo into either gratify your senses, extend your knowledge, or refine yourmanners. 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 attentionfrom the rest of the company; but pray frequent no neutral places, frommere idleness and indolence. Nothing forms a young man so much as beingused to keep respectable and superior company, where a constant regardand attention is necessary. It is true, this is at first a disagreeablestate of restraint; but it soon grows habitual, and consequently easy;and you are amply paid for it, by the improvement you make, and thecredit it gives you. What you said some time ago was very true, concerning 'le Palais Royal'; to one of your age the situation isdisagreeable enough: you cannot expect to be much taken notice of; butall that time you can take notice of others; observe their manners, decipher their characters, and insensibly you will become one of thecompany. 

All this I went through myself, when I was of your age. I have sat hoursin company without being taken the least notice of; but then I tooknotice of them, and learned in their company how to behave myself betterin 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 wherethere were neither quick pleasures nor useful improvements to beexpected. 

Sloth, indolence, and 'mollesse' are pernicious and unbecoming a youngfellow; let them be your 'ressource' forty years hence at soonest. Determine, at all events, and however disagreeable it may to you in somerespects, and for some time, to keep the most distinguished andfashionable company of the place you are at, either for their rank, orfor their learning, or 'le bel esprit et le gout'. This gives youcredentials to the best companies, wherever you go afterward. Pray, therefore, no indolence, no laziness; but employ every minute in yourlife in active pleasures, or useful employments. Address yourself to somewoman of fashion and beauty, wherever you are, and try how far that willgo. If the place be not secured beforehand, and garrisoned, nine times inten you will take it. By attentions and respect you may always get intothe highest company: and by some admiration and applause, whether meritedor not, you may be sure of being welcome among 'les savans et les beauxesprits'. 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 yourletter of the 8th N. S. , which, by what accident I do not know, I did notreceive before. 

I long to read Voltaire's 'Rome Sauvee', which, by the very faults thatyour SEVERE critics find with it, I am sure I shall like; for I will atan any time give up a good deal of regularity for a great deal ofbrillant; and for the brillant surely nobody is equal to Voltaire. Catiline's conspiracy is an unhappy subject for a tragedy; it is toosingle, and gives no opportunity to the poet to excite any of the tenderpassions; the whole is one intended act of horror, Crebillon was sensibleof this defect, and to create another interest, most absurdly madeCatiline in love with Cicero's daughter, and her with him. 

I am very glad that you went to Versailles, and dined with Monsieur deSt. Contest. That is company to learn 'les bonnes manieres' in; and itseems you had 'les bonnes morceaux' into the bargain. Though you were nopart of the King of France's conversation with the foreign ministers, andprobably not much entertained with it, do you think that it is not veryuseful to you to hear it, and to observe the turn and manners of peopleof that sort? It is extremely useful to know it well. The same in thenext rank of people, such as ministers of state, etc. , in whose company, though you cannot yet, at your age, bear a part, and consequently bediverted, you will observe and learn, what hereafter it may be necessaryfor you to act. 

Tell Sir John Lambert that I have this day fixed Mr. Spencer's having hiscredit 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 mostentirely English: and you know very well what I think of that. And so webid 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 necessaryof all studies, the study of the world? Do you find that you gainknowledge? And does your daily experience at once extend and demonstrateyour improvement? You will possibly ask me how you can judge of thatyourself. I will tell you a sure way of knowing. Examine yourself, andsee whether your notions of the world are changed, by experience, fromwhat they were two years ago in theory; for that alone is one favorablesymptom of improvement. At that age (I remember it in myself) everynotion that one forms is erroneous; one hath seen few models, and thosenone of the best, to form one's self upon. One thinks that everything isto be carried by spirit and vigor; that art is meanness, and thatversatility and complaisance are the refuge of pusilanimity and weakness. This most mistaken opinion gives an indelicacy, a 'brusquerie', and aroughness to the manners. Fools, who can never be undeceived, retain themas long as they live: reflection, with a little experience, makes men ofsense shake them off soon. When they come to be a little betteracquainted with themselves, and with their own species, they discoverthat plain right reason is, nine times in ten, the fettered and shackledattendant 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 thegentlest, the most engaging, and the most insinuating manner. Have youfound out that every woman is infallibly to be gained by every sort offlattery, and every man by one sort or other? Have you discovered whatvariety of little things affect the heart, and how surely theycollectively gain it? If you have, you have made some progress. I wouldtry a man's knowledge of the world, as I would a schoolboy's knowledge ofHorace: not by making him construe 'Maecenas atavis edite regibus', whichhe could do in the first form; but by examining him as to the delicacyand 'curiosa felicitas' of that poet. A man requires very littleknowledge and experience of the world, to understand glaring, high-colored, and decided characters; they are but few, and they strikeat first: but to distinguish the almost imperceptible shades, and thenice gradations of virtue and vice, sense and folly, strength andweakness (of which characters are commonly composed), demands someexperience, great observation, and minute attention. In the same cases, most people do the same things, but with this material difference, uponwhich the success commonly turns: A man who hath studied the world knowswhen to time, and where to place them; he hath analyzed the characters heapplies 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 andbluntly at the mark, and falls upon his nose in the way. In the commonmanners of social life, every man of common sense hath the rudiments, theA 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 goodcompany. But that is far from being enough; for, though he may bereceived, he will never be desired; though he does not offend, he willnever 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 mostcontemptible situation! Whereas, a man who hath carefully attended to, and experienced, the various workings of the heart, and the artifices ofthe head; and who, by one shade, can trace the progression of the wholecolor; who can, at the proper times, employ all the several means ofpersuading the understanding, and engaging the heart, may and will haveenemies; but will and must have friends: he may be opposed, but he willbe supported too; his talents may excite the jealousy of some, but hisengaging arts will make him beloved by many more; he will beconsiderable; he will be considered. Many different qualifications mustconspire to form such a man, and to make him at once respectable andamiable; the least must be joined to the greatest; the latter would beunavailing without the former; and the former would be futile andfrivolous, without the latter. Learning is acquired by reading books; butthe much more necessary learning, the knowledge of the world, is only tobe acquired by reading men, and studying all the various editions ofthem. Many words in every language are generally thought to besynonymous; but those who study the language attentively will find, thatthere is no such thing; they will discover some little difference, somedistinction between all those words that are vulgarly called synonymous;one hath always more energy, extent, or delicacy, than another. It is thesame with men; all are in general, and yet no two in particular, exactlyalike. Those who have not accurately studied, perpetually mistake them;they do not discern the shades and gradations that distinguish charactersseemingly alike. Company, various company, is the only school for thisknowledge. You ought to be, by this time, at least in the third form ofthat school, from whence the rise to the uppermost is easy and quick; butthen you must have application and vivacity; and you must not only bearwith, but even seek restraint in most companies, instead of stagnating inone 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. ]--foryour future motions, I forgot to tell you; that, if a king of the Romansshould be chosen this year, you shall certainly be at that election; andas, upon those occasions, all strangers are excluded from the place ofthe election, except such as belong to some ambassador, I have alreadyeventually secured you a place in the suite of the King's ElectoralAmbassador, who will be sent upon that account to Frankfort, or whereverelse the election may be. This will not only secure you a sight of theshow, but a knowledge of the whole thing; which is likely to be acontested one, from the opposition of some of the electors, and theprotests of some of the princes of the empire. That election, if there isone, will, in my opinion, be a memorable era in the history of theempire; pens at least, if not swords, will be drawn; and ink, if notblood, will be plentifully shed by the contending parties in thatdispute. During the fray, you may securely plunder, and add to yourpresent stock of knowledge of the 'jus publicum imperii'. The court ofFrance hath, I am told, appointed le President Ogier, a man of greatabilities, to go immediately to Ratisbon, 'pour y souffler la discorde'. It must be owned that France hath always profited skillfully of itshaving guaranteed the treaty of Munster; which hath given it a constantpretense to thrust itself into the affairs of the empire. When France gotAlsace yielded by treaty, it was very willing to have held it as a fiefof the empire; but the empire was then wiser. Every power should be verycareful not to give the least pretense to a neighboring power to meddlewith the affairs of its interior. Sweden hath already felt the effects ofthe Czarina's calling herself Guarantee of its present form ofgovernment, in consequence of the treaty of Neustadt, confirmed afterwardby that of Abo; though, in truth, that guarantee was rather a provisionagainst Russia's attempting to alter the then new established form ofgovernment in Sweden, than any right given to Russia to hinder the Swedesfrom 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 Kingand the parliament. I shall return them by Lord Huntingdon, whom you willsoon see at Paris, and who will likewise carry you the piece, which Iforgot in making up the packet I sent you by the Spanish Ambassador. Therepresentation of the parliament is very well drawn, 'suaviter in modo, fortiter in re'. They tell the King very respectfully, that, in a certaincase, WHICH THEY SHOULD THINK IT CRIMINAL To SUPPOSE, they would not obeyhim. This hath a tendency to what we call here revolution principles. Ido not know what the Lord's anointed, his vicegerent upon earth, divinelyappointed by him, and accountable to none but him for his actions, willeither think or do, upon these symptoms of reason and good sense, whichseem to be breaking out all over France: but this I foresee, that, beforethe end of this century, the trade of both king and priest will not behalf so good a one as it has been. Du Clos, in his "Reflections, " hathobserved, and very truly, 'qu'il y a un germe de raison qui commence a sedevelopper en France';--a developpement that must prove fatal to Regaland Papal pretensions. Prudence may, in many cases, recommend anoccasional submission to either; but when that ignorance, upon which animplicit faith in both could only be founded, is once removed, God'sVicegerent, and Christ's Vicar, will only be obeyed and believed, as faras what the one orders, and the other says, is conformable to reason andto truth. 

I am very glad (to use a vulgar expression) that You MAKE AS IF YOU WERENOT WELL, though you really are; I am sure it is the likeliest way tokeep so. Pray leave off entirely your greasy, heavy pastry, fat creams, and indigestible dumplings; and then you need not confine yourself towhite 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. Itcame at a very proper time; Lord Bolingbroke had just taught me howhistory should be read; Voltaire shows me how it should be written. I amsensible 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 thoughthey do not understand it; which is commonly the measure of theiradmiration. Dull ones will want those minute and uninteresting detailswith which most other histories are encumbered. He tells me all I want toknow, and nothing more. His reflections are short, just, and produceothers in his readers. Free from religious, philosophical, political andnational prejudices, beyond any historian I ever met with, he relates allthose matters as truly and as impartially, as certain regards, which mustalways be to some degree observed, will allow him; for one sees plainlythat he often says much less than he would say, if he might. He hath mademe much better acquainted with the times of Lewis XIV. , than theinnumerable volumes which I had read could do; and hath suggested thisreflection to me, which I have never made before--His vanity, not hisknowledge, made him encourage all, and introduce many arts and sciencesin his country. He opened in a manner the human understanding in France, and brought it to its utmost perfection; his age equalled in all, andgreatly exceeded in many things (pardon me, Pedants!) the Augustan. Thiswas 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 thehuman mind just where he pleased; and seemed to say, "Thus far shalt thougo, and no farther. " For, a bigot to his religion, and jealous of hispower, free and rational thoughts upon either, never entered into aFrench head during his reign; and the greatest geniuses that ever any ageproduced, never entertained a doubt of the divine right of Kings, or theinfallibility of the Church. Poets, Orators, and Philosophers, ignorantof their natural rights, cherished their chains; and blind, active faithtriumphed, in those great minds, over silent and passive reason. Thereverse 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 itvery probable that it is not allowed to be published and sold at Paris. Pray read it more than once, and with attention, particularly the secondvolume, which contains short, but very clear accounts of many veryinteresting things, which are talked of by everybody, though fairly. Understood by very few. There are two very puerile affectations which Iwish this book had been free from; the one is, the total subversion ofall the old established French orthography; the other is, the not makinguse of any one capital letter throughout the whole book, except at thebeginning 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 notconceive that there can be any reason for doing it, half so strong as thereason of long usage is to the contrary. This is an affectation belowVoltaire; who, I am not ashamed to say, that I admire and delight in, asan 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 yreussira': You do very well, it is your destination; but remember that, to succeed in great things, one must first learn to please in littleones. Engaging manners and address must prepare the way for superiorknowledge and abilities to act with effect. The late Duke ofMarlborough's manners and address prevailed with the first king ofPrussia, to let his troops remain in the army of the Allies, when neithertheir 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 amanner, which he could not, nor did not, resist. Voltaire, among athousand little delicate strokes of that kind, says of the Duke de laFeuillade, 'qu'il etoit l'homme le plus brillant et le plus aimable duroyaume; et quoique gendre du General et Ministre, il avoit pour lui lafaveur publique'. Various little circumstances of that sort will oftenmake a man of great real merit be hated, if he hath not address andmanners to make him be loved. Consider all your own circumstancesseriously; and you will find that, of all arts, the art of pleasing isthe most necessary for you to study and possess. A silly tyrant said, 'oderint modo timeant'; a wise man would have said, 'modo ament nihiltimendum est mihi'. Judge from your own daily experience, of the efficacyof that pleasing 'je ne sais quoi', when you feel, as you and everybodycertainly does, that in men it is more engaging than knowledge, in womenthan beauty. 

I long to see Lord and Lady-------(who are not yet arrived), because theyhave lately seen you; and I always fancy, that I can fish out somethingnew concerning you, from those who have seen you last: not that I shallmuch rely upon their accounts, because I distrust the judgment of Lordand Lady-------, in those matters about which I am most inquisitive. Theyhave 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 forthe world; and unless he stays abroad a great while, and falls into verygood company, he will expect, what he will never find, the attentions andcomplaisance from others, which he has hitherto been used to from Papaand 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 tolive. However you may turn out, you can never make me any of thesereproaches. I indulged no silly, womanish fondness for you; instead ofinflicting my tenderness upon you, I have taken all possible methods tomake you deserve it; and thank God you do; at least, I know but onearticle, in which you are different from what I could wish you; and youvery well know what that is I want: That I and all the world should likeyou, 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 happyexpression for having address, manners, and for knowing how to behaveproperly in all companies; and it implies very truly that a man who hathnot those accomplishments is not of the world. Without them, the bestparts are inefficient, civility is absurd, and freedom offensive. Alearned parson, rusting in his cell, at Oxford or Cambridge, will seasonadmirably well upon the nature of man; will profoundly analyze the head, the heart, the reason, the will, the passions, the senses, thesentiments, 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 doescolors 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 oneplain, decided color; most are mixed, shaded, and blended; and vary asmuch, from different situations, as changeable silks do form differentlights. The man 'qui a du monde' knows all this from his own experienceand observation: the conceited, cloistered philosopher knows nothing ofit from his own theory; his practice is absurd and improper, and he actsas awkwardly as a man would dance, who had never seen others dance, norlearned of a dancing-master; but who had only studied the notes by whichdances 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': seeby what methods they first make, and afterward improve impressions intheir favor. Those impressions are much oftener owing to little causesthan to intrinsic merit; which is less volatile, and hath not so suddenan effect. Strong minds have undoubtedly an ascendant over weak ones, asGaligai Marachale d'Ancre very justly observed, when, to the disgrace andreproach of those times, she was executed for having governed Mary ofMedicis by the arts of witchcraft and magic. But then ascendant is to begained by degrees, and by those arts only which experience and theknowledge 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 ofsuperior, governed by people of much inferior parts, without knowing oreven suspecting that they were so governed. This can only happen whenthose people of inferior parts have more worldly dexterity andexperience, 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 gaineither men or women, and every man of sense desires to gain both, 'ilfaut du monde'. You have had more opportunities than ever any man had, atyour age, of acquiring 'ce monde'. You have been in the best companies ofmost countries, at an age when others have hardly been in any company atall. You are master of all those languages, which John Trott seldomspeaks at all, and never well; consequently you need be a strangernowhere. This is the way, and the only way, of having 'du monde', but ifyou have it not, and have still any coarse rusticity about you, may notone apply to you the 'rusticus expectat' of Horace?

This knowledge of the world teaches us more particularly two things, bothwhich are of infinite consequence, and to neither of which natureinclines us; I mean, the command of our temper, and of our countenance. Aman who has no 'monde' is inflamed with anger, or annihilated with shame, at every disagreeable incident: the one makes him act and talk like amadman, the other makes him look like a fool. But a man who has 'dumonde', seems not to understand what he cannot or ought not to resent. Ifhe makes a slip himself, he recovers it by his coolness, instead ofplunging deeper by his confusion like a stumbling horse. He is firm, butgentle; 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 unskillfulenough to show what they have sense enough not to tell. In the course ofthe world, a man must very often put on an easy, frank countenance, uponvery disagreeable occasions; he must seem pleased when he is very muchotherwise; he must be able to accost and receive with smiles, those whomhe would much rather meet with swords. In courts he must not turn himselfinside out. All this may, nay must be done, without falsehood andtreachery; for it must go no further than politeness and manners, andmust 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 areuniversally agreed upon and understood, to be things of course. They arenecessary guards of the decency and peace of society; they must only actdefensively; and then not with arms poisoned by perfidy. Truth, but notthe whole truth, must be the invariable principle of every man, who hatheither religion, honor, or prudence. Those who violate it may be cunning, but they are not able. Lies and perfidy are the refuge of fools andcowards. Adieu!

P. S. I must recommend to you again, to take your leave of all yourFrench acquaintance, in such a manner as may make them regret yourdeparture, and wish to see and welcome you at Paris again, where you maypossibly 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 haveshown you during your stay at Paris: assure them that wherever you are, you will remember them with gratitude; wish for opportunities of givingthem proofs of your 'plus tendre et respectueux souvenir; beg of them incase your good fortune should carry them to any part of the world whereyou could be of any the least use to them, that they would employ youwithout reserve. Say all this, and a great deal more, emphatically andpathetically; for you know 'si vis me flere'. This can do you no harm, ifyou never return to Paris; but if you do, as probably you may, it will beof infinite use to you. Remember too, not to omit going to every housewhere you have ever been once, to take leave and recommend yourself totheir remembrance. The reputation which you leave at one place, where youhave been, will circulate, and you will meet with it at twenty placeswhere you are to go. That is a labor never quite lost. 

This letter will show you, that the accident which happened to meyesterday, and of which Mr. Grevenkop gives you account, hath had no badconsequences. 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 onthe allowable side, by doing more than I promised. I have pleasure inwriting to you; and you may possibly have some profit in reading what Iwrite; either of the motives were sufficient for me, both for you Icannot withstand. By your last I calculate that you will leave Paris uponthis day se'nnight; upon that supposition, this letter may still find youthere. 

Colonel Perry arrived here two or three days ago, and sent me a book fromyou; Cassandra abridged. I am sure it cannot be too much abridged. Thespirit of that most voluminous work, fairly extracted, may be containedin the smallest duodecimo; and it is most astonishing, that there evercould have been people idle enough to write or read such endless heaps ofthe same stuff. It was, however, the occupation of thousands in the lastcentury, and is still the private, though disavowed, amusement of younggirls, and sentimental ladies. A lovesick girl finds, in the captain withwhom she is in love, all the courage and all the graces of the tender andaccomplished Oroondates: and many a grown-up, sentimental lady, talksdelicate Clelia to the hero, whom she would engage to eternal love, orlaments 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 (ofall which La Calprenede's are the best), because it is well to be able totalk, with some degree of knowledge, upon all those subjects that otherpeople talk sometimes upon: and I would by no means have anything, thatis known to others, be totally unknown to you. It is a great advantagefor any man, to be able to talk or to hear, neither ignorantly norabsurdly, upon any subject; for I have known people, who have not saidone word, hear ignorantly and absurdly; it has appeared in theirinattentive and unmeaning faces. 

This, I think, is as little likely to happen to you as to anybody of yourage: and if you will but add a versatility and easy conformity ofmanners, I know no company in which you are likely to be de trop. 

This versatility is more particularly necessary for you at this time, nowthat you are going to so many different places: for, though the mannersand customs of the several courts of Germany are in general the same, yeteveryone has its particular characteristic; some peculiarity or other, which distinguishes it from the next. This you should carefully attendto, and immediately adopt. Nothing flatters people more, nor makesstrangers so welcome, as such an occasional conformity. I do not mean bythis, that you should mimic the air and stiffness of every awkward Germancourt; no, by no means; but I mean that you should only cheerfullycomply, and fall in with certain local habits, such as ceremonies, diet, turn of conversation, etc. People who are lately come from Paris, and whohave been a good while there, are generally suspected, and especially inGermany, of having a degree of contempt for every other place. Take greatcare that nothing of this kind appear, at least outwardly, in yourbehavior; but commend whatever deserves any degree of commendation, without comparing it with what you may have left, much better of the samekind, at Paris. As for instance, the German kitchen is, without doubt, execrable, and the French delicious; however, never commend the Frenchkitchen at a German table; but eat of what you can find tolerable there, and commend it, without comparing it to anything better. I have knownmany British Yahoos, who though while they were at Paris conformed to noone French custom, as soon as they got anywhere else, talked of nothingbut what they did, saw, and eat at Paris. The freedom of the French isnot to be used indiscriminately at all the courts in Germany, thoughtheir easiness may, and ought; but that, too, at some places more thanothers. The courts of Manheim and Bonn, I take to be a little moreunbarbarized than some others; that of Mayence, an ecclesiastical one, aswell as that of Treves (neither of which is much frequented byforeigners), retains, I conceive, a great deal of the Goth and Vandalstill. There, more reserve and ceremony are necessary; and not a word ofthe 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 inGermany, but in every part of the world where you may ever be, is notonly real, but seeming attention, to whoever you speak to, or to whoeverspeaks to you. There is nothing so brutally shocking, nor so littleforgiven, 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 muchlighter provocation, than that shocking inattention which I mean. I haveseen many people, who, while you are speaking to them, instead of lookingat, and attending to you, fix their eyes upon the ceiling or some otherpart of the room, look out of the window, play with a dog, twirl theirsnuff-box, or pick their nose. Nothing discovers a little, futile, frivolous mind more than this, and nothing is so offensively ill-bred; itis an explicit declaration on your part, that every the most triflingobject, deserves your attention more than all that can be said by theperson who is speaking to you. Judge of the sentiments of hatred andresentment, which such treatment must excite in every breast where anydegree of self-love dwells; and I am sure I never yet met with thatbreast where there was not a great deal: I repeat it again and again (forit is highly necessary for you to remember it), that sort of vanity andself-love is inseparable from human nature, whatever may be its rank orcondition; even your footmen will sooner forget and forgive a beating, than any manifest mark of slight and contempt. Be therefore, I beg ofyou, not only really, but seemingly and manifestly attentive to whoeverspeaks to you; nay, more, take their 'ton', and tune yourself to theirunison. Be serious with the serious, gay with the gay, and trifle withthe triflers. In assuming these various shapes, endeavor to make each ofthem seem to sit easy upon you, and even to appear to be your own naturalone. This is the true and useful versatility, of which a thoroughknowledge of the world at once teaches the utility and the means ofacquiring. 

I am very sure, at least I hope, that you will never make use of a sillyexpression, which is the favorite expression, and the absurd excuse ofall fools and blockheads; I CANNOT DO SUCH A THING; a thing by no meanseither morally or physically impossible. I CANNOT attend long together tothe same thing, says one fool; that is, he is such a fool that he willnot. I remember a very awkward fellow, who did not know what to do withhis sword, and who always took it off before dinner, saying that he couldnot possibly dine with his sword on; upon which I could not help tellinghim, that I really believed he could without any probable danger eitherto himself or others. It is a shame and an absurdity, for any man to saythat he cannot do all those things, which are commonly done by all therest of mankind. 

Another thing that I must earnestly warn you against is laziness; bywhich more people have lost the fruit of their travels than, perhaps, byany other thing. Pray be always in motion. Early in the morning go andsee things; and the rest of the day go and see people. If you stay but aweek at a place, and that an insignificant one, see, however, all that isto be seen there; know as many people, and get into as many houses, asever you can. 

I recommend to you likewise, though probably you have thought of ityourself, to carry in your pocket a map of Germany, in which thepostroads are marked; and also some short book of travels throughGermany. The former will help to imprint in your memory situations anddistances; and the latter will point out many things for you to see, thatmight otherwise possibly escape you, and which, though they may be inthemselves of little consequence, you would regret not having seen, afterhaving been at the places where they were. 

Thus warned and provided for your journey, God speed you; 'Felixfaustumque 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 oftenparaphrased, and commented upon already, that I believe I can hardly sayanything new upon it; but, however, I cannot give it over till I ambetter convinced, than I yet am, that you feel all the utility, theimportance, and the necessity of it; nay, not only feel, but practice it. Your panegyrist allows you, what most fathers would be more thansatisified with, in a son, and chides me for not contenting myself with'l'essentiellement bon'; but I, who have been in no one respect likeother fathers, cannot neither, like them, content myself with'l'essentiellement bon'; because I know that it will not do your businessin the world, while you want 'quelques couches de vernis'. Few fatherscare much for their sons, or, at least, most of them care more for theirmoney: and, consequently, content themselves with giving them, at thecheapest rate, the common run of education: that is, a school tilleighteen; the university till twenty; and a couple of years riding postthrough the several towns of Europe; impatient till their boobies comehome to be married, and, as they call it, settled. Of those who reallylove their sons, few know how to do it. Some spoil them by fondling themwhile 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 tothe bodily health and strength of the hopes of their family, solemnizehis birthday, and rejoice, like the subjects of the Great Mogul, at theincrease of his bulk; while others, minding, as they think, onlyessentials, take pains and pleasure to see in their heir, all theirfavorite weaknesses and imperfections. I hope and believe that I havekept clear of all of these errors in the education which I have givenyou. No weaknesses of my own have warped it, no parsimony has starved it, no rigor has deformed it. Sound and extensive learning was the foundationwhich I meant to lay--I have laid it; but that alone, I knew, would by nomeans be sufficient: the ornamental, the showish, the pleasingsuperstructure was to be begun. In that view, I threw you into the greatworld, entirely your own master, at an age when others either guzzle atthe university, or are sent abroad in servitude to some awkward, pedanticScotch governor. This was to put you in the way, and the only way ofacquiring those manners, that address, and those graces, whichexclusively distinguish people of fashion; and without which all moralvirtues, and all acquired learning, are of no sort of use in the courtsand 'le beau monde': on the contrary, I am not sure if they are not anhindrance. They are feared and disliked in those places, as too severe, if not smoothed and introduced by the graces; but of these graces, ofthis necessary 'beau vernis', it seems there are still 'quelque couchesqui manquent'. Now, pray let me ask you, coolly and seriously, 'pourquoices couches manquent-elles'? For you may as easily take them, as you maywear 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 haveheard some English bucks say, "Damn these finical outlandish airs, giveme a manly, resolute manner. They make a rout with their graces, and talklike a parcel of dancing-masters, and dress like a parcel of fops: onegood Englishman will beat three of them. " But let your own observationundeceive you of these prejudices. I will give you one instance only, instead of an hundred that I could give you, of a very shining fortuneand figure, raised upon no other foundation whatsoever, than that ofaddress, manners, and graces. Between you and me (for this example mustgo no further), what do you think made our friend, Lord A----e, Colonelof a regiment of guards, Governor of Virginia, Groom of the Stole, andAmbassador to Paris; amounting in all to sixteen or seventeen thousandpounds a year? Was it his birth? No, a Dutch gentleman only. Was it hisestate? No, he had none. Was it his learning, his parts, his politicalabilities and application? You can answer these questions as easily, andas soon, as I can ask them. What was it then? Many people wondered, but Ido not; for I know, and will tell you. It was his air, his address, hismanners, and his graces. He pleased, and by pleasing he became afavorite; and by becoming a favorite became all that he has been since. Show me any one instance, where intrinsic worth and merit, unassisted byexterior accomplishments, have raised any man so high. You know the Duede 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 fancyto him, and had him before he was sixteen years old; this put him infashion among the beau monde: and the late Regent's oldest daughter, nowMadame de Modene, took him next, and was near marrying him. These earlyconnections 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 thepoorest men in Europe. Man or woman cannot resist an engaging exterior;it will please, it will make its way. You want, it seems, but 'quelquescouches'; for God's sake, lose no time in getting them; and now you havegone so far, complete the work. Think of nothing else till that work isfinished; unwearied application will bring about anything: and surelyyour application can never be so well employed as upon that object, whichis absolutely necessary to facilitate all others. With your knowledge andparts, if adorned by manners and graces, what may you not hope one day tobe? But without them, you will be in the situation of a man who should bevery fleet of one leg but very lame of the other. He could not run; thelame leg would check and clog the well one, which would be very nearuseless. 

From my original plan for your education, I meant to make you 'un hommeuniversel'; what depends on me is executed, the little that remainsundone depends singly upon you. Do not then disappoint, when you can soeasily gratify me. It is your own interest which I am pressing you topursue, and it is the only return that I desire for all the care andaffection of, Yours. 

LETTER CLXVIII

LONDON, May 31, O. S. 1752

MY DEAR FRIEND: The world is the book, and the only one to which, atpresent, I would have you apply yourself; and the thorough knowledge ofit 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; anddepend upon it, you change for the better. However, as the mosttumultuous life, whether of business or pleasure, leaves some vacantmoments every day, in which a book is the refuge of a rational being, Imean now to point out to you the method of employing those moments (whichwill and ought to be but few) in the most advantageous manner. Throw awaynone of your time upon those trivial, futile books, published by idle ornecessitous authors, for the amusement of idle and ignorant readers; suchsort of books swarm and buzz about one every day; flap them away, theyhave no sting. 'Certum pete finem', have some one object for thoseleisure moments, and pursue that object invariably till you have attainedit; and then take some other. For instance, considering your destination, I would advise you to single out the most remarkable and interesting erasof modern history, and confine all your reading to that ERA. If you pitchupon 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 bydipping and deviating into other books, unrelative to it; but consultonly the most authentic histories, letters, memoirs, and negotiations, relative to that great transaction; reading and comparing them, with allthat caution and distrust which Lord Bolingbroke recommends to you, in abetter manner, and in better words than I can. The next period worth yourparticular knowledge, is the Treaty of the Pyrenees: which was calculatedto lay, and in effect did lay, the succession of the House of Bourbon tothe crown of Spain. Pursue that in the same manner, singling, out of themillions of volumes written upon that occasion, the two or three mostauthentic ones, and particularly letters, which are the best authoritiesin matters of negotiation. Next come the Treaties of Nimeguen andRyswick, postscripts in, a manner to those of Munster and the Pyrenees. Those two transactions have had great light thrown upon them by thepublication of many authentic and original letters and pieces. Theconcessions made at the Treaty of Ryswick, by the then triumphant Lewisthe Fourteenth, astonished all those who viewed things onlysuperficially; but, I should think, must have been easily accounted forby those who knew the state of the kingdom of Spain, as well as of thehealth of its King, Charles the Second, at that time. The intervalbetween the conclusion of the peace of Ryswick, and the breaking out ofthe great war in 1702, though a short, is a most interesting one. Everyweek of it almost produced some great event. Two partition treaties, thedeath of the King of Spain, his unexpected will, and the acceptance of itby Lewis the Fourteenth, in violation of the second treaty of partition, just signed and ratified by him. Philip the Fifth quietly and cheerfullyreceived in Spain, and acknowledged as King of it, by most of thosepowers, who afterward joined in an alliance to dethrone him. I cannothelp making this observation upon that occasion: That character has oftenmore to do in great transactions, than prudence and sound policy; forLewis the Fourteenth gratified his personal pride, by giving a BourbonKing to Spain, at the expense of the true interest of France; which wouldhave acquired much more solid and permanent strength by the addition ofNaples, Sicily, and Lorraine, upon the footing of the second partitiontreaty; and I think it was fortunate for Europe that he preferred thewill. It is true, he might hope to influence his Bourbon posterity inSpain; he knew too well how weak the ties of blood are among men, and howmuch 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 theCourt of Spain, previous to the death of that weak King; and the Lettersof the Marachal d'Harcourt, then the French Ambassador in Spain, of whichI have authentic copies in manuscript, from the year 1698 to 1701, havecleared up that whole affair to me. I keep that book for you. It appearsby those letters, that the impudent conduct of the House of Austria, withregard to the King and Queen of Spain, and Madame Berlips, her favorite, together with the knowledge of the partition treaty, which incensed allSpain, were the true and only reasons of the will, in favor of the Dukeof Anjou. Cardinal Portocarrero, nor any of the Grandees, were bribed byFrance, as was generally reported and believed at that time; whichconfirms Voltaire's anecdote upon that subject. Then opens a new sceneand a new century; Lewis the Fourteenth's good fortune forsakes him, tillthe Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene make him amends for all themischief they had done him, by making the allies refuse the terms ofpeace offered by him at Gertruydenberg. How the disadvantageous peace ofUtrecht was afterward brought on, you have lately read; and you cannotinform yourself too minutely of all those circumstances, that treaty'being the freshest source from whence the late transactions of Europehave flowed. The alterations that have since happened, whether by wars ortreaties, are so recent, that all the written accounts are to be helpedout, proved, or contradicted, by the oral ones of almost every informedperson, of a certain age or rank in life. For the facts, dates, andoriginal pieces of this century, you will find them in Lamberti, till theyear 1715, and after that time in Rousset's 'Recueil'. 

I do not mean that you should plod hours together in researches of thiskind: no, you may employ your time more usefully: but I mean, that youshould make the most of the moments you do employ, by method, and thepursuit of one single object at a time; nor should I call it a digressionfrom that object, if when you meet with clashing and jarring pretensionsof different princes to the same thing, you had immediately recourse toother books, in which those several pretensions were clearly stated; onthe contrary, that is the only way of remembering those contested rightsand claims: for, were a man to read 'tout de suite', Schwederus's'Theatrum Pretensionum', he would only be confounded by the variety, andremember none of them; whereas, by examining them occasionally, as theyhappen to occur, either in the course of your historical reading, or asthey are agitated in your own times, you will retain them, by connectingthem with those historical facts which occasioned your inquiry. Forexample, had you read, in the course of two or three folios ofPretensions, those, among others, of the two Kings of England and Prussiato 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 booksand persons concerning them, and inform yourself thoroughly, you willnever forget them as long as you live. You will hear a great deal of themow one side, at Hanover, and as much on the other side, afterward, atBerlin: hear both sides, and form your own opinion; but dispute withneither. 

Letters from foreign ministers to their courts, and from their courts tothem, 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 yourstyle; 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 plainprinciples: 1st, That you should now read very little, but converse agreat deal; 2d, To read no useless, unprofitable books; and 3d, Thatthose which you do read, may all tend to a certain object, and berelative to, and consequential of each other. In this method, half anhour's reading every day will carry you a great way. People seldom knowhow to employ their time to the best advantage till they have too littleleft to employ; but if, at your age, in the beginning of life, peoplewould but consider the value of it, and put every moment to interest, itis incredible what an additional fund of knowledge and pleasure such aneconomy would bring in. I look back with regret upon that large sum oftime, which, in my youth, I lavished away idly, without eitherimprovement or pleasure. Take warning betimes, and enjoy every moment;pleasures do not commonly last so long as life, and therefore should notbe 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 leftParis. I still direct this to Strasburgh, as I did my two last. I shalldirect my next to the post house at Mayence, unless I receive, in themeantime, 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 fortheir learning. The most famous French negotiators (and I know no nationthat can boast of abler) have been military men, as Monsieur d'Harcourt, Comte d'Estrades, Marechal d'Uxelles, and others. The late Duke ofMarlborough, who was at least as able a negotiator as a general, wasexceedingly ignorant of books, but extremely knowing in men, whereas thelearned Grotius appeared, both in Sweden and in France, to be a verybungling minister. This is, in my opinion, very easily to be accountedfor. A man of very deep learning must have employed the greatest part ofhis time in books; and a skillful negotiator must necessarily haveemployed much the greater part of his time with man. The sound scholar, when dragged out of his dusty closet into business, acts by book, anddeals with men as he has read of them; not as he has known them byexperience: he follows Spartan and Roman precedents, in what he falselyimagines to be similar cases; whereas two cases never were, since thebeginning of the world, exactly alike; and he would be capable, where hethought spirit and vigor necessary, to draw a circle round the persons hetreated with, and to insist upon a categorical answer before they wentout of it, because he had read, in the Roman history, that once upon atime some Roman ambassador, did so. No; a certain degree of learning mayhelp, but no degree of learning will ever make a skillful ministerwhereas a great knowledge of the world, of the characters, passions, andhabits of mankind, has, without one grain of learning, made a thousand. Military men have seldom much knowledge of books; their education doesnot allow it; but what makes great amends for that want is, that theygenerally 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 torise, which is the aim of them all, they must first please: theseconcurrent causes almost always give them manners and politeness. Inconsequence of which, you see them always distinguished at courts, andfavored by the women. I could wish that you had been of an age to havemade a campaign or two as a volunteer. It would have given you anattention, 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 thathis knowledge and his skill in negotiating are not frequently put to thetrial; but he has that to do every day, and every hour of the day, whichis necessary to prepare and smooth the way for his business; that is, toinsinuate himself by his manners, not only into the houses, but into theconfidence of the most considerable people of that place; to contributeto their pleasures, and insensibly not to be looked upon as a strangerhimself. A skillful minister may very possibly be doing his master'sbusiness full as well, in doing the honors gracefully and genteelly of aball or a supper, as if he were laboriously writing a protocol in hiscloset. The Marechal d'Harcourt, by his magnificence, his manners, andhis politeness, blunted the edge of the long aversion which the Spaniardshad to the French. The court and the grandees were personally fond, ofhim, and frequented his house; and were at least insensibly brought toprefer a French to a German yoke; which I am convinced would never havehappened, had Comte d'Harrach been Marechal d'Harcourt, or the Marechald'Harcourt Comte d'Harrach. The Comte d'Estrades had, by 'ses manierespolies et liantes', formed such connections, and gained such an interestin the republic of the United Provinces, that Monsieur De Witt, the thenPensionary of Holland, often applied to him to use his interest with hisfriend, both in Holland and the other provinces, whenever he (De Witt)had a difficult point which he wanted to carry. This was certainly notbrought about by his knowledge of books, but of men: dancing, fencing, and riding, with a little military architecture, were no doubt the top ofhis education; and if he knew that 'collegium' in Latin signified collegein French, it must have been by accident. But he knew what was moreuseful: from thirteen years old he had been in the great world, and hadread 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 andwishes that your exterior accomplishments, as a man of fashion, mightadorn, and at least equal your intrinsic merit as a man of sense andhonor, the person interrupted me, and said: Set your heart at rest; thatnever will or can happen. It is not in character; that gentleness, that'douceur', those attentions which you wish him to have, are not in hisnature; and do what you will, nay, let him do what he will, he can neveracquire them. Nature may be a little disguised and altered by care; butcan by no means whatsoever be totally forced and changed. I denied thisprinciple to a certain degree; but admitting, however, that in manyrespects our nature was not to be changed; and asserting, at the sametime, 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 dependingupon the will, and upon custom; and that, therefore, I was convinced thatyour good sense, which must show you the importance of them, would makeyou resolve at all events to acquire them, even in spite of nature, ifnature be in the case. Our dispute, which lasted a great while, ended asVoltaire observes that disputes in England are apt to do, in a wager offifty guineas; which I myself am to decide upon honor, and of which thisis a faithful copy. If you think I shall win it, you may go my halves ifyou please; declare yourself in time. This I declare, that I would mostcheerfully give a thousand guineas to win those fifty; you may securethem me if you please. 

I grow very impatient for your future letters from the several courts ofManheim, 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 ofyourself. Let the egotism, a figure which upon all other occasions Idetest, be your only one to me. Trifles that concern you are not triflesto 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 islikely to meet you, supposing, as I do, that you stayed three weeks atManheim, after the date of your last from thence; but should you havestayed longer at Manheim, to which I have no objection, it will wait foryou at Mayence. Mayence will not, I believe, have charms to detain youabove 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 thenproceed 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 haslately been appointed the King's Minister to the Dey of Algiers; a postwhich, notwithstanding your views of foreign affairs, I believe you donot envy him. He tells me in that letter, there are very good lodgings tobe 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 caseMrs. Meyers will wait for you till the latter end of August, or thebeginning of September, N. S. , which I suppose is about the time when youwill be at Hanover. You will find this Mr. Aspinwall of great use to youthere. He will exert himself to the utmost to serve you; he has beentwice or thrice at Hanover, and knows all the allures there: he is verywell with the Duke of Newcastle, and will puff you there. Moreover, ifyou have a mind to work there as a volunteer in that bureau, he willassist and inform you. In short, he is a very honest, sensible, andinformed man; 'mais me paye pas beaucoup de sa figure; il abuse meme duprivilege qu'ont les hommes d'etre laids; et il ne sera pas en reste avecles lions et les leopards qu'il trouvera a Alger'. 

As you are entirely master of the time when you will leave Bonn and go toHanover, so are you master to stay at Hanover as long as you please, andto go from thence where you please; provided that at Christmas you are atBerlin, for the beginning of the Carnival: this I would not have you sayat Hanover, considering the mutual disposition of those two courts; butwhen anybody asks you where you are to go next, say that you proposerambling 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 usefulcourt in Europe for a young fellow to be at: and therefore I would uponno account not have you there, for at least a couple of months of theCarnival. If you are as well received, and pass your time as well at Bonnas I believe you will, I would advise you to remain there till about the20th of August, N. S. , in four days you will be at Hanover. As for yourstay there, it must be shorter or longer, according to certaincircumstances WHICH YOU KNOW OF; supposing them, at the best, then, staywithin a week or ten days of the King's return to England; but supposingthem at the worst, your stay must not be too short, for reasons which youalso 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 asever you please. But I am convinced that all will turn out very well foryou there. Everybody is engaged or inclined to help you; the ministers, English and German, the principal ladies, and most of the foreignministers; so that I may apply to you, 'nullum numen abest, si sitprudentia'. Du Perron will, I believe, be back there from Turin muchabout the time you get there: pray be very attentive to him, and connectyourself with him as much as ever you can; for, besides that he is a verypretty and well-informed man, he is very much in fashion at Hanover, ispersonally very well with the King and certain ladies; so that a visibleintimacy and connection with him will do you credit and service. Praycultivate Monsieur Hop, the Dutch minister, who has always been very muchmy friend, and will, I am sure, be yours; his manners, it is true, arenot very engaging; he is rough, but he is sincere. It is very usefulsometimes to see the things which one ought to avoid, as it is right tosee very often those which one ought to imitate, and my friend Hop'smanners will frequently point out to you, what yours ought to be by therule of contraries. 

Congreve points out a sort of critics, to whom he says that we are doublyobliged:--

 "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 athousand 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 tohave been seriously and desperately in love with Madame de Taxis; who, Isuppose, is a proud, insolent, fine lady, and who would consequently haveexpected attentions little short of adoration: nothing would do you moregood than such a passion; and I live in hopes that somebody or other willbe able to excite such an one in you; your hour may not yet be come, butit will come. Love has not been unaptly compared to the smallpox whichmost people have sooner or later. Iphigenia had a wonderful effect uponCimon; 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 willshow that you prefer that language, and be of more use to you there withSOMEBODY, than you can imagine. When you carry my letters to MonsieurMunchausen and Monsieur Schwiegeldt, address yourself to them in German;the latter speaks French very well, but the former extremely ill. Showgreat attention to Madame, Munchausen's daughter, who is a greatfavorite; those little trifles please mothers, and sometimes fathers, extremely. Observe, and you will find, almost universally, that the leastthings either please or displease most; because they necessarily imply, either a very strong desire of obliging, or an unpardonable indifferenceabout 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 andconsideration, had a little boy of about three years old, of whom theywere 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 dayhis nose was very dirty, upon which I took out my handkerchief and wipedit for him; this raised a loud laugh, and they called me a very, handynurse; but the father and mother were so pleased with it, that to thisday it is an anecdote in the family, and I never receive a letter fromComte Wassenaer, but he makes me the compliments 'du morveux gue j'aimouche autrefois'; who, by the way, I am assured, is now the prettiestyoung fellow in Holland. Where one would gain people, remember thatnothing 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 the18th, N. S. , from Manheim, that all, or at least most of my letters toyou, since you left Paris, have miscarried; I think it requisite, at allevents, 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 youat Bonn, where it is directed; and I suppose too, that you have fixedyour time for going from thence to Hanover. If things TURN OUT WELL ATHANOVER, as in my opinion they will, 'Chi sta bene non si muova', staythere 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; thevery suspicion of which is by all means to be avoided. Whenever you leaveHanover, 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 andDecember at Brunswick, Cassel, etc. ? Would you choose to go for a coupleof months to Ratisbon, where you would be very well recommended to, andtreated by the King's Electoral Minister, the Baron de Behr, and whereyou would improve your 'Jus publicum'? or would you rather go directly toBerlin, and stay there till the end of the Carnival? Two or three monthsat Berlin are, considering all circumstances, necessary for you; and theCarnival months are the best; 'pour le reste decidez en dernier ressort, et sans appel comme d'abus'. Let me know your decree, when you haveformed it. Your good or ill success at Hanover will have a very greatinfluence upon your subsequent character, figure, and fortune in theworld; therefore I confess that I am more anxious about it, than everbride 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 thatwhich will abide by you for the rest of your life. You will be tried andjudged there, not as a boy, but as a man; and from that moment there isno appeal for character; it is fixed. To form that characteradvantageously, you have three objects particularly to attend to: yourcharacter as a man of morality, truth, and honor; your knowledge in theobjects of your destination, as a man of business; and your engaging andinsinuating address, air and manners, as a courtier; the sure and onlysteps to favor. 

Merit at courts, without favor, will do little or nothing; favor, withoutmerit, will do a good deal; but favor and merit together will doeverything. Favor at courts depends upon so many, such trifling, suchunexpected, and unforeseen events, that a good courtier must attend toevery circumstance, however little, that either does, or can happen; hemust have no absences, no DISTRACTIONS; he must not say, "I did not mindit; who would have thought it?" He ought both to have minded, and to havethought it. A chamber-maid has sometimes caused revolutions in courtswhich have produced others in kingdoms. Were I to make my way to favor ina court, I would neither willfully, nor by negligence, give a dog or acat there reason to dislike me. Two 'pies grieches', well instructed, youknow, made the fortune of De Luines with Lewis XIII. Every step a manmakes at court requires as much attention and circumspection, as thosewhich were made formerly between hot plowshares, in the Ordeal, or fierytrials; which, in those times of ignorance and superstition, were lookedupon as demonstrations of innocence or guilt. Direct your principalbattery, at Hanover, at the D of N 's: there are many very weak places inthat citadel; where, with a very little skill, you cannot fail making agreat impression. Ask for his orders in everything you do; talk Austrianand Anti-gallican to him; and, as soon as you are upon a foot of talkingeasily to him, tell him 'en badinant', that his skill and success inthirty or forty elections in England leave you no reason to doubt of hiscarrying his election for Frankfort; and that you look upon the Archdukeas 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 thePensionary De Witt, --who at that time governed half Europe, --that heappeared at balls, assemblies, and public places, as if he had nothingelse 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 anyopinion of your own upon those matters, looking upon yourself at presentonly as a postscript to the corps diplomatique; but that, if his Gracewill be pleased to make you an additional volume to it, though but induodecimo, you will do your best that he shall neither be ashamed norrepent of it. He loves to have a favorite, and to open himself to thatfavorite. He has now no such person with him; the place is vacant, and ifyou 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 donot yourself know how you can bear your wine, and what a little too muchof it may make you do or say; you might possibly kick down all you haddone before. 

You do not love gaming, and I thank God for it; but at Hanover I wouldhave you show, and profess a particular dislike to play, so as to declineit upon all occasions, unless where one may be wanted to make a fourth atwhist or quadrille; and then take care to declare it the result of yourcomplaisance, not of your inclinations. Without such precaution you mayvery possibly be suspected, though unjustly, of loving play, upon accountof my former passion for it; and such a suspicion would do you a greatdeal of hurt, especially with the King, who detests gaming. I must endthis abruptly. God bless you!

LETTER CLXXII

MY DEAR FRIEND: Versatility as a courtier may be almost decisive to youhereafter; that is, it may conduce to, or retard your preferment in yourown destination. The first reputation goes a great way; and if you fix agood 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 hewho applies himself the most, will work the best: the only difficulty isto distinguish (what I am sure you have sense enough to distinguish)between the right and proper qualifications and their kindred faults; forthere is but a line between every perfection and its neighboringimperfection. As, for example, you must be extremely well-bred andpolite, but without the troublesome forms and stiffness of ceremony. Youmust be respectful and assenting, but without being servile and abject. You must be frank, but without indiscretion; and close, without beingcostive. You must keep up dignity of character, without the least prideof birth or rank. You must be gay within all the bounds of decency andrespect; and grave without the affectation of wisdom, which does notbecome the age of twenty. You must be essentially secret, without beingdark and mysterious. You must be firm, and even bold, but with greatseeming 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 inEurope. And I am not sorry that you begin your apprenticeship at a littleone; because you must be more circumspect, and more upon your guardthere, than at a great one, where every little thing is not known norreported. 

When you write to me, or to anybody else, from thence, take care thatyour letters contain commendations of all that you see and hear there;for they will most of them be opened and read; but, as frequent courierswill come from Hanover to England, you may sometimes write to me withoutreserve; and put your letters into a very little box, which you may sendsafely 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; beupon your guard against it, both upon account of your health, which wouldnot bear it, and of the consequences of your being flustered and heatedwith 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 shouldnot 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 inthe glass; and if detected, and pressed to drink more do not cry outsobriety; but say that you have lately been out of order, that you aresubject to inflammatory complaints, and that you must beg to be excusedfor the present. A young fellow ought to be wiser than he should seem tobe; 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 excursionsto parts of that Electorate: the Hartz, where the silver mines are;Gottingen, for the University; Stade, for what commerce there is. Youshould also go to Zell. In short, see everything that is to be seenthere, and inform yourself well of all the details of that country. Go toHamburg for three or four days, and know the constitution of that littleHanseatic Republic, and inform yourself well of the nature of the King ofDenmark's pretensions to it. 

If all things turn out right for you at Hanover, I would have you make ityour head-quarters, till about a week or ten days before the King leavesit; 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 likeit; 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 easilyget good letters of recommendation to Brunswick and to Cassel. You do notwant 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 thatKing and that country; both which are detested, because feared byeverybody there, from his Majesty down to the meanest peasant; but, however, they both extremely deserve your utmost attention and you willsee the arts and wisdom of government better in that country, now, thanin any other in Europe. You may stay three months at Berlin, if you likeit, as I believe you will; and after that I hope we shall meet thereagain. 

Of all the places in the world (I repeat it once more), establish a goodreputation at Hanover, 'et faites vous valoir la, autant qu'il estpossible, par le brillant, les manieres, et les graces'. Indeed it is ofthe greatest importance to you, and will make any future application tothe King in your behalf very easy. He is more taken by those littlethings, than any man, or even woman, that I ever knew in my life: and Ido not wonder at him. In short, exert to the utmost all your means andpowers to please: and remember that he who pleases the most, will risethe soonest and the highest. Try but once the pleasure and advantage ofpleasing, and I will answer that you will never more neglect the means. 

I send you herewith two letters, the one to Monsieur Munchausen, theother to Monsieur Schweigeldt, an old friend of mine, and a very sensibleknowing man. They will both I am sure, be extremely civil to you, andcarry you into the best company; and then it is your business to pleasethat 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 moreconsequence to you than any other. If I hear from thence, that you areliked and loved there, for your air, your manners, and address, as wellas 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 atHanover three or four days before you; and as I am sure of its arrivingthere safe, it shall contain the most material points that I havementioned in my several letters to you since you left Paris, as if youhad 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 amonth; but if things turn out to Your SATISFACTION, it may be just aslong as you please. From thence you may go wherever you like; for I haveso good an opinion of your judgment, that I think you will combine andweigh all circumstances, and choose the properest places. Would yousaunter at some of the small courts, as Brunswick, Cassel, etc. , till theCarnival at Berlin? You are master. Would you pass a couple of months atRatisbon, which might not be ill employed? 'A la bonne heure'. Would yougo to Brussels, stay a month or two there with Dayrolles, and from thenceto Mr. Yorke, at The Hague? With all my heart. Or, lastly, would you goto Copenhagen and Stockholm? 'Lei e anche Padrone': choose entirely foryourself, without any further instructions from me; only let me know yourdetermination in time, that I may settle your credit, in case you go toplaces 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 musthave observed that they are much more nice and scrupulous, in points ofceremony, respect and attention, than the greater courts of France andEngland. You will, therefore, I am persuaded, attend to the minutestcircumstances of address and behavior, particularly during your stay atHanover, which (I will repeat it, though I have said it often to youalready) is the most important preliminary period of your whole life. Nobody in the world is more exact, in all points of good-breeding, thanthe King; and it is the part of every man's character, that he informshimself of first. The least negligence, or the slightest inattention, reported to him, may do you infinite prejudice: as their contraries wouldservice. 

If Lord Albemarle (as I believe he did) trusted you with the secretaffairs 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 toemploy you in affairs of consequence. Tell him that, though you areyoung, you know the importance of secrecy in business, and can keep asecret; that I have always inculcated this doctrine into you, and have, moreover, strictly forbidden you ever to communicate, even to me, anymatters of a secret nature, which you may happen to be trusted with inthe course of business. 

As for business, I think I can trust you to yourself; but I wish I couldsay as much for you with regard to those exterior accomplishments, whichare absolutely necessary to smooth and shorten the way to it. Half thebusiness is done, when one has gained the heart and the affections ofthose with whom one is to transact it. Air and address must begin, manners and attention must finish that work. I will let you into onesecret concerning myself; which is, that I owe much more of the successwhich I have had in the world to my manners, than to any superior degreeof merit or knowledge. I desired to please, and I neglected none of themeans. 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 moreattention and good-breeding than you. Call it vanity, if you please, andpossibly it was so; but my great object was to make every man I met withlike me, and every woman love me. I often succeeded; but why? By takinggreat pains, for otherwise I never should: my figure by no means entitledme to it; and I had certainly an up-hill game; whereas your countenancewould help you, if you made the most of it, and proscribed for ever theguilty, gloomy, and funereal part of it. Dress, address, and air, wouldbecome 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 allrelative to the history and constitution of that country; which I wouldhave you know as correctly as any Hanoverian in the whole Electorate. Inform yourself of the powers of the States, and of the nature and extentof the several judicatures; the particular articles of trade and commerceof Bremen, Harburg, and Stade; the details and value of the mines of theHartz. Two or three short books will give you the outlines of all thesethings; and conversation turned upon those subjects will do the rest, andbetter than books can. 

Remember of all things to speak nothing but German there; make it (toexpress myself pedantically) your vernacular language; seem to prefer itto any other; call it your favorite language, and study to speak it withpurity and elegance, if it has any. This will not only make you perfectin it, but will please, and make your court there better than anything. Apropos of languages: Did you improve your Italian while you were atParis, or did you forget it? Had you a master there? and what Italianbooks did you read with him? If you are master of Italian, I would haveyou afterward, by the first convenient opportunity, learn Spanish, whichyou may very easily, and in a very little time do; you will then, in thecourse of your foreign business, never be obliged to employ, pay, ortrust 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 Iwould have you go immediately to the Duke of Newcastle, and beg hisGrace's advice, or rather orders, what you should do; adding, that hisadvice will always be orders to you. You will tell him that though youare exceedingly mortified, you are much less so than you should otherwisebe, from the consideration that being utterly unknown to his M-----, hisobjection could not be personal to you, and could only arise fromcircumstances which it was not in your power either to prevent or remedy;that if his Grace thought that your continuing any longer there would bedisagreeable, you entreated him to tell you so; and that upon the whole, you referred yourself entirely to him, whose orders you should mostscrupulously obey. But this precaution, I dare say, is 'ex abundanti', and will prove unnecessary; however, it is always right to be preparedfor all events, the worst as well as the best; it prevents hurry andsurprise, two dangerous, situations in business; for I know no one thingso useful, so necessary in all business, as great coolness, steadiness, and sangfroid: they give an incredible advantage over whoever one has todo with. 

I have received your letter of the 15th, N. S. , from Mayence, where Ifind that you have diverted yourself much better than I expected. I amvery well acquainted with Comte Cobentzel's character, both of parts andbusiness. He could have given you letters to Bonn, having formerlyresided there himself. You will not be so agreeably ELECTRIFIED wherethis letter will find you, as you were both at Manheim and Mayence; but Ihope you may meet with a second German Mrs. F-----d, who may make youforget the two former ones, and practice your German. Such transientpassions 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 ayoung fellow 'du brillant', and bring him into fashion; which last is agreat article at setting out in the world. 

I have wrote, about a month ago, to Lord Albemarle, to thank him for allhis kindnesses to you; but pray have you done as much? Those are thenecessary attentions which should never be omitted, especially in thebeginning of life, when a character is to be established. 

That ready wit; which you so partially allow me, and so justly SirCharles Williams, may create many admirers; but, take my word for it, itmakes few friends. It shines and dazzles like the noon-day sun, but, likethat too, is very apt to scorch; and therefore is always feared. Themilder morning and evening light and heat of that planet soothe and calmour minds. Good sense, complaisance, gentleness of manners, attentionsand graces are the only things that truly engage, and durably keep theheart at long run. Never seek for wit; if it presents itself, well andgood; but, even in that case, let your judgment interpose; and take carethat 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 ebullitionsor 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 atHanover, 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 oldasthmatic 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 agitationof 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 arenow better, and in better hands. I mean in Dr. Hugo's at Hanover: he iscertainly a very skillful physician, and therefore I desire that you willinform him most minutely of your own case, from your first attack inCarniola, to this last at Marpurgh; and not only follow his prescriptionsexactly at present, but take his directions, with regard to the regimenthat he would have you observe to prevent the returns of this complaint;and, in case of any returns, the immediate applications, whether externalor internal, that he would have you make use of. Consider, it is veryworth 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, oncefor all, of so troublesome and painful a distemper; the returns of whichwould equally break in upon your business or your pleasures. Notwithstanding all this, which is plain sense and reason, I much fearthat, as soon as ever you are got out of your present distress, you willtake no preventive care, by a proper course of medicines and regimen;but, like most people of your age, think it impossible that you evershould 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 andcentre of foreign negotiations; there are ministers from almost everycourt in Europe; and you have a fine opportunity of displaying withmodesty, 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 thepresent Emperor, who, though young and healthy, may possibly die, asyoung and healthy people often do. The other is, the very reason thatmakes some powers oppose it, and others dislike it, who do not openlyoppose it; I mean, that it may tend to make the imperial dignityhereditary in the House of Austria; which I heartily wish, together witha very great increase of power in the empire: till when, Germany willnever be anything near a match for France. Cardinal Richelieu showed hissuperior abilities in nothing more, than in thinking no pains or expensetoo great to break the power of the House of Austria in the empire. Ferdinand had certainly made himself absolute, and the empireconsequently formidable to France, if that Cardinal had not piouslyadopted the Protestant cause, and put the empire, by the treaty ofWestphalia, in pretty much the same disjointed situation in which Franceitself was before Lewis the Eleventh; when princes of the blood, at thehead of provinces, and Dukes of Brittany, etc. , always opposed, and oftengave laws to the crown. Nothing but making the empire hereditary in theHouse of Austria, can give it that strength and efficiency, which I wishit had, for the sake of the balance of power. For, while the princes ofthe empire are so independent of the emperor, so divided amongthemselves, and so open to the corruption of the best bidders, it isridiculous to expect that Germany ever will, or can act as a compact andwell-united body against France. But as this notion of mine would aslittle please SOME OF OUR FRIENDS, as many of our enemies, I would notadvise you, though you should be of the same opinion, to declare yourselftoo freely so. Could the Elector Palatine be satisfied, which I confesswill be difficult, considering the nature of his pretensions, thetenaciousness and haughtiness of the court of Vienna (and our inabilityto do, as we have too often done, their work for them); I say, if theElector Palatine could be engaged to give his vote, I should think itwould be right to proceed to the election with a clear majority of fivevotes; and leave the King of Prussia and the Elector of Cologne, toprotest and remonstrate as much as ever they please. The former is toowise, and the latter too weak in every respect, to act in consequence ofthese protests. The distracted situation of France, with itsecclesiastical and parliamentary quarrels, not to mention the illness andpossibly the death of the Dauphin, will make the King of Prussia, who iscertainly 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 mustbe determined by Russia, considering his views upon Poland, which, by theby, I hope he will never obtain; I mean, as to making that crownhereditary in his family. As for his sons having it by the precarioustenure of election, by which his father now holds it, 'a la bonne heure'. But, should Poland have a good government under hereditary kings, therewould 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 wasbecause I knew that I was writing to the most consummate politician ofthis, and his age. If I err, you will set me right; 'si quid novistirectius istis, candidus imperti', etc. 

I am excessively impatient for your next letter, which I expect by thefirst post from Hanover, to remove my anxiety, as I hope it will, notonly with regard to your health, but likewise to OTHER THINGS; in themeantime in the language of a pedant, but with the tenderness of aparent, 'jubeo te bene valere'. 

Lady Chesterfield makes you many compliments, and is much concerned atyour 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 ineverything which concerns Mr. Stanhope, who will have the honor ofpresenting 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 hasmade a proper use of that knowledge, is what I do not know: he is onlytwenty years of age. He was at Berlin some years ago, and therefore hereturns thither; for at present people are attracted toward the north bythe same motives which but lately drew them to the south. 

Permit me, Sir, to return you thanks for the pleasure and instruction Ihave received from your 'History of Lewis XIV'. I have as yet read it butfour times, because I wish to forget it a little before I read it afifth; but I find that impossible: I shall therefore only wait till yougive us the augmentation which you promised; let me entreat you not todefer it long. I thought myself pretty conversant in the history of thereign of Lewis XIV. , by means of those innumerable histories, memoirs, anecdotes, etc. , which I had read relative to that period of time. Youhave convinced me that I was mistaken, and had upon that subject veryconfused ideas in many respects, and very false ones in others. Aboveall, I cannot but acknowledge the obligation we have to you, Sir, for thelight which you have thrown upon the follies and outrages of thedifferent sects; the weapons you employ against those madmen, or thoseimpostors, are the only suitable ones; to make use of any others would beimitating them: they must be attacked by ridicule, and, punished withcontempt. 'A propos' of those fanatics; I send you here inclosed a pieceupon that subject, written by the late Dean Swift: I believe you will notdislike it. You will easily guess why it never was printed: it isauthentic, 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 deserveto be treated. 

Give me leave, Sir, to tell you freely, that I am embarrassed upon youraccount, as I cannot determine what it is that I wish from you. When Iread your last history, I am desirous that you should always writehistory; but when I read your 'Rome Sauvee' (although ill-printed anddisfigured), yet I then wish you never to deviate from poetry; however, Iconfess that there still remains one history worthy of your pen, and ofwhich your pen alone is worthy. You have long ago given us the history ofthe greatest and most outrageous madman (I ask your pardon if I cannotsay the greatest hero) of Europe; you have given us latterly the historyof the greatest king; give us now the history of the greatest and mostvirtuous man in Europe; I should think it degrading to call him king. Toyou this cannot be difficult, he is always before your eyes: yourpoetical invention is not necessary to his glory, as that may safely relyupon your historical candor. The first duty of an historian is the onlyone he need require from his, 'Ne quid falsi dicere audeat, ne quid verinon audeat'. Adieu, Sir! I find that I must admire you every day more andmore; but I also know that nothing ever can add to the esteem andattachment with which I am actually, your most humble and most obedientservant, CHESTERFIELD. 

LETTER CLXXVI

LONDON, September 19, 1752, MY DEAR FRIEND: Since you have been at Hanover, your correspondence hasbeen both unfrequent and laconic. You made indeed one great effort infolio on the 18th, with a postscript of the 22d August, N. S. , and sincethat, 'vous avez rate in quarto'. On the 31st August, N. S. , you give meno informations of what I want chiefly to know; which is, what Dr. Hugo(whom I charged you to consult) said of your asthmatic complaint, andwhat he prescribed you to prevent the returns of it; and also what is thecompany that, you keep there, who has been kind and civil to you, and whonot. 

You say that you go constantly to the parade; and you do very well; forthough you are not of that trade, yet military matters make so great apart both of conversation and negotiation, that it is very proper not tobe ignorant of them. I hope you mind more than the mere exercise of thetroops you see; and that you inform yourself at the same time, of themore material details; such as their pay, and the difference of it whenin and out of quarters; what is furnished them by the country when inquarters, and what is allowed them of ammunition, bread, etc. , when inthe field; the number of men and officers in the several troops andcompanies, together with the non-commissioned officers, as 'caporals, frey-caporals, anspessades', sergeants, quarter-masters, etc. ; theclothing how frequent, how good, and how furnished; whether by thecolonel, as here in England, from what we call the OFF-RECKONINGS, thatis, deductions from the men's pay, or by commissaries appointed by thegovernment for that purpose, as in France and Holland. By these inquiriesyou will be able to talk military with military men, who, in everycountry in Europe, except England, make at least half of all the bestcompanies. Your attending the parades has also another good effect, whichis, that it brings you, of course, acquainted with the officers, who, when of a certain rank and service, are generally very polite, well-bredpeople, 'et du bon ton'. They have commonly seen a great deal of theworld, and of courts; and nothing else can form a gentleman, let peoplesay what they will of sense and learning; with both which a man maycontrive to be a very disagreeable companion. I dare say, there are veryfew captains of foot, who are not much better company than ever Descartesor Sir Isaac Newton were. I honor and respect such superior geniuses; butI desire to converse with people of this world, who bring into companytheir share, at least, of cheerfulness, good-breeding, and knowledge ofmankind. In common life, one much oftener wants small money, and silver, than gold. Give me a man who has ready cash about him for presentexpenses; sixpences, shillings, half-crowns, and crowns, which circulateeasily: but a man who has only an ingot of gold about him, is much abovecommon purposes, and his riches are not handy nor convenient. Have asmuch gold as you please in one pocket, but take care always to keepchange in the other; for you will much oftener have occasion for ashilling than for a guinea. In this the French must be allowed to excelall people in the world: they have 'un certain entregent, un enjouement, un aimable legerete dans la conversation, une politesse aisee etnaturelle, qui paroit ne leur rien couter', which give society all itscharms. I am sorry to add, but it is too true, that the English and theDutch are the farthest from this, of all the people in the world; I do byno means except even the Swiss. 

Though you do not think proper to inform me, I know from other hands thatyou were to go to the Gohr with a Comte Schullemburg, for eight or tendays only, to see the reviews. I know also that you had a blister uponyour arm, which did you a great deal of good. I know too, you havecontracted a great friendship with Lord Essex, and that you two wereinseparable at Hanover. All these things I would rather have known fromyou than from others; and they are the sort of things that I am the mostdesirous of knowing, as they are more immediately relative to yourself. 

I am very sorry for the Duchess of Newcastle's illness, full as much uponyour as upon her account, as it has hindered you from being so much knownto the Duke as I could have wished; use and habit going a great way withhim, as indeed they do with most people. I have known many peoplepatronized, pushed up, and preferred by those who could have given noother reason for it, than that they were used to them. We must never seekfor motives by deep reasoning, but we must find them out by carefulobservation and attention, no matter what they should be, but the pointis, what they are. Trace them up, step by step, from the character of theperson. I have known 'de par le monde', as Brantome says, great effectsfrom causes too little ever to have been suspected. Some things must beknown, 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 letterof the 8th. I approve extremely of your intended progress, and am veryglad that you go to the Gohr with Comte Schullemburg. I would have yousee everything with your own eyes, and hear everything with your ownears: for I know, by very long experience, that it is very unsafe totrust to other people's. Vanity and interest cause manymisrepresentations, and folly causes many more. Few people have partsenough to relate exactly and judiciously: and those who have, for somereason 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 omenof 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 thereis a certain conduct, there are certaines 'manieres' that will, and mustget the better of all difficulties of that kind; it is to acquire themthat you still continue abroad, and go from court to court; they arepersonal, local, and temporal; they are modes which vary, and owe theirexistence to accidents, whim, and humor; all the sense and reason in theworld would never point them out; nothing but experience, observation, and what is called knowledge of the world, can possibly teach them. Forexample, it is respectful to bow to the King of England, it isdisrespectful to bow to the King of France; it is the rule to courtesy tothe Emperor; and the prostration of the whole body is required by easternmonarchs. These are established ceremonies, and must be complied with:but why thev were established, I defy sense and reason to tell us. It isthe same among all ranks, where certain customs are received, and mustnecessarily be complied with, though by no means the result of sense andreason. As for instance, the very absurd, though almost universal customof drinking people's healths. Can there be anything in the world lessrelative to any other man's health, than my drinking a glass of wine?Common sense certainly never pointed it out; but yet common sense tellsme I must conform to it. Good sense bids one be civil and endeavor toplease; though nothing but experience and observation can teach one themeans, properly adapted to time, place, and persons. This knowledge isthe true object of a gentleman's traveling, if he travels as he ought todo. By frequenting good company in every country, he himself becomes ofevery country; he is no longer an Englishman, a Frenchman, or an Italian;but he is an European; he adopts, respectively, the best manners of everycountry; and is a Frenchman at Paris, an Italian at Rome, an Englishmanat London. 

This advantage, I must confess, very seldom accrues to my countrymen fromtheir traveling; as they have neither the desire nor the means of gettinginto good company abroad; for, in the first place, they are confoundedlybashful; and, in the next place, they either speak no foreign language atall, or if they do, it is barbarously. You possess all the advantagesthat they want; you know the languages in perfection, and have constantlykept the best company in the places where you have been; so that youought to be an European. Your canvas is solid and strong, your outlinesare good; but remember that you still want the beautiful coloring ofTitian, and the delicate, graceful touches of Guido. Now is your time toget them. There is, in all good company, a fashionable air, countenance, manner, and phraseology, which can only be acquired by being in goodcompany, and very attentive to all that passes there. When you dine orsup at any well-bred man's house, observe carefully how he does thehonors of his table to the different guests. Attend to the compliments ofcongratulation or condolence that you hear a well-bred man make to hissuperiors, to his equals, and to his inferiors; watch even hiscountenance and his tone of voice, for they all conspire in the mainpoint of pleasing. There is a certain distinguishing diction of a man offashion; he will not content himself with saying, like John Trott, to anew-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 equallyunmoved; but he will say in effect the same thing in a more elegant andless trivial manner, and with a countenance adapted to the occasion. Hewill advance with warmth, vivacity, and a cheerful countenance, to thenew-married man, and embracing him, perhaps say to him, "If you dojustice to my attachment to you, you will judge of the joy that I feelupon this occasion, better than I can express it, " etc. ; to the other inaffliction, he will advance slowly, with a grave composure ofcountenance, in a more deliberate manner, and with a lower voice, perhapssay, "I hope you do me the justice to be convinced that I feel whateveryou 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 nowmended. 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, especiallyin your foreign department; where it keeps off certain serious subjects, that might create disputes, or at least coldness for a time. Upon suchoccasions it is not amiss to know how to parley cuisine, and to be ableto dissert upon the growth and flavor of wines. These, it is true, arevery little things; but they are little things that occur very often, andtherefore should be said 'avec gentillesse et grace'. I am sure they mustfall often in your way; pray take care to catch them. There is a certainlanguage of conversation, a fashionable diction, of which every gentlemanought to be perfectly master, in whatever language he speaks. The Frenchattend to it carefully, and with great reason; and their language, whichis a language of phrases, helps them out exceedingly. That delicacy ofdiction 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 beconvinced of the truth and importance of what I have been so longinculcating into you upon these points. How happy am I, and how happy areyou, my dear child, that these Titian tints, and Guido graces, are allthat you want to complete my hopes and your own character! But then, onthe other hand, what a drawback would it be to that happiness, if youshould never acquire them? I remember, when I was of age, though I hadnot near so good an education as you have, or seen a quarter so much ofthe world, I observed those masterly touches and irresistible graces inothers, and saw the necessity of acquiring them myself; but then anawkward 'mauvaise honte', of which I had brought a great deal with mefrom Cambridge, made me ashamed to attempt it, especially if any of mycountrymen and particular acquaintances were by. This was extremelyabsurd in me: for, without attempting, I could never succeed. But atlast, insensibly, by frequenting a great deal of good company, andimitating those whom I saw that everybody liked, I formed myself, 'tantbien que mal'. For God's sake, let this last fine varnish, so necessaryto give lustre to the whole piece, be the sole and single object now ofyour utmost attention. Berlin may contribute a great deal to it if youplease; there are all the ingredients that compose it. 

'A Propos' of Berlin, while you are there, take care to seem ignorant ofall political matters between the two courts; such as the affairs of OstFrise, and Saxe Lawemburg, etc. , and enter into no conversations uponthose points; but, however, be as well at court as you possibly can; liveat it, and make one of it. Should General Keith offer you civilities, donot decline them; but return them, however, without being 'enfant de lamaison chez lui': say 'des chores flatteuses' of the Royal Family, andespecially of his Prussian Majesty, to those who are the most like torepeat them. In short, make yourself well there, without making yourselfill SOMEWHERE ELSE. Make compliments from me to Algarotti, and conversewith him in Italian. 

I go next week to the Bath, for a deafness, which I have been plaguedwith these four or five months; and which I am assured that pumping myhead will remove. This deafness, I own, has tried my patience; as it hascut me off from society, at an age when I had no pleasures but thoseleft. In the meantime, I have, by reading and writing, made my eyessupply the defect of my ears. Madame H-----, I suppose, entertained bothyours alike; however, I am very glad that you were well with her; for sheis a good 'proneuse', and puffs are very useful to a young fellow at hisentrance into the world. 

If you should meet with Lord Pembroke again, anywhere, make him manycompliments from me; and tell him that I should have written to him, butthat 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; andfrom thence you are absolutely master of your own motions, either to TheHague, or to Brussels; but I think that you had better go to The Haguefirst, because that from thence Brussels will be in your way to Calais, which is a much better passage to England than from Helvoetsluys. The twocourts of The Hague and Brussels are worth your seeing; and you will seethem 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 mythoughts, I see every day, with increasing pleasure, the fair prospectwhich you have before you. I had two views in your education; they drawnearer and nearer, and I have now very little reason to distrust youranswering them fully. Those two were, parliamentary and foreign affairs. In consequence of those views, I took care, first, to give you asufficient stock of sound learning, and next, an early knowledge of theworld. Without making a figure in parliament, no man can make any in thiscountry; and eloquence alone enables a man to make a figure inparliament, unless, it be a very mean and contemptible one, which thosemake there who silently vote, and who do 'pedibus ire in sententiam'. Foreign affairs, when skillfully managed, and supported by aparliamentary reputation, lead to whatever is most considerable in thiscountry. You have the languages necessary for that purpose, with asufficient fund of historical and treaty knowledge; that is to say, youhave the matter ready, and only want the manner. Your objects being thusfixed, I recommend to you to have them constantly in your thoughts, andto direct your reading, your actions, and your words, to those views. Most people think only 'ex re nata', and few 'ex professo': I would haveyou do both, but begin with the latter. I explain myself: Lay downcertain principles, and reason and act consequently from them. As, forexample, say to yourself, I will make a figure in parliament, and inorder to do that, I must not only speak, but speak very well. Speakingmere common sense will by no means do; and I must speak not onlycorrectly but elegantly; and not only elegantly but eloquently. In orderto do this, I will first take pains to get an habitual, but unaffected, purity, correctness and elegance of style in my common conversation; Iwill seek for the best words, and take care to reject improper, inexpressive, and vulgar ones. I will read the greatest masters oforatory, both ancient and modern, and I will read them singly in thatview. I will study Demosthenes and Cicero, not to discover an oldAthenian or Roman custom, nor to puzzle myself with the value of talents, mines, drachms, and sesterces, like the learned blockheads in us; but toobserve their choice of words, their harmony of diction, their method, their distribution, their exordia, to engage the favor and attention oftheir audience; and their perorations, to enforce what they have said, and to leave a strong impression upon the passions. Nor will I be pedantenough to neglect the modern; for I will likewise study Atterbury, Dryden, Pope, and Bolingbroke; nay, I will read everything that I do readin that intention, and never cease improving and refining my style uponthe 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 uponthis principle, and keep it constantly in your mind, every company you gointo, and every book you read, will contribute to your improvement, either by showing you what to imitate, or what to avoid. Are you to givean account of anything to a mixed company? or are you to endeavor topersuade either man or woman? This principle, fixed in your mind, willmake you carefully attend to the choice of your words, and to theclearness 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 askillful and successful negotiator, and form yourself accordingly. Whatare they? First, the clear historical knowledge of past transactions ofthat kind. That you have pretty well already, and will have daily moreand more; for, in consequence of that principle, you will read history, memoirs, anecdotes, etc. , in that view chiefly. The other necessarytalents for negotiation are: the great art of pleasing and engaging theaffection and confidence, not only of those with whom you are tocooperate, but even of those whom you are to oppose: to conceal your ownthoughts and views, and to discover other people's: to engage otherpeople's confidence by a seeming cheerful frankness and openness, withoutgoing 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 theabsolute command over your temper and your countenance, that no heat mayprovoke you to say, nor no change of countenance to betray, what shouldbe a secret: to familiarize and domesticate yourself in the houses of themost considerable people of the place, so as to be received there ratheras a friend to the family than as a foreigner. Having these principlesconstantly in your thoughts, everything you do and everything you saywill some way or other tend to your main view; and common conversationwill gradually fit you for it. You will get a habit of checking anyrising heat; you will be upon your guard against any indiscreetexpression; you will by degrees get the command of your countenance, soas not to change it upon any the most sudden accident; and you will, above all things, labor to acquire the great art of pleasing, withoutwhich nothing is to be done. Company is, in truth, a constant state ofnegotiation; and, if you attend to it in that view, will qualify you forany. By the same means that you make a friend, guard against an enemy, orgain a mistress; you will make an advantageous treaty, baffle those whocounteract you, and gain the court you are sent to. Make this use of allthe company you keep, and your very pleasures will make you a successfulnegotiator. Please all who are worth pleasing; offend none. Keep your ownsecret, and get out other people's. Keep your own temper and artfullywarm other people's. Counterwork your rivals, with diligence anddexterity, but at the same time with the utmost personal civility tothem; and be firm without heat. Messieurs d'Avaux and Servien did no morethan this. I must make one observation, in confirmation of thisassertion; which is, that the most eminent negotiators have allways beenthe politest and bestbred men in company; even what the women call thePRETTIEST MEN. For God's sake, never lose view of these two your capitalobjects: bend everything to them, try everything by their rules, andcalculate everything for their purposes. What is peculiar to these twoobjects, is, that they require nothing, but what one's own vanity, interest, and pleasure, would make one do independently of them. If a manwere never to be in business, and always to lead a private life, would henot desire to please and to persuade? So that, in your two destinations, your fortune and figure luckily conspire with your vanity and yourpleasures. Nay more; a foreign minister, I will maintain it, can never bea 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 arecarried on, and perhaps best and most unsuspectedly, at balls, suppers, assemblies, and parties of pleasure; by intrigues with women, andconnections insensibly formed with men, at those unguarded hours ofamusement. 

These objects now draw very near you, and you have no time to lose inpreparing yourself to meet them. You will be in parliament almost as soonas your age will allow, and I believe you will have a foreign departmentstill 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 hopeto 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 thereis nothing more difficult (I know it by experience) for you youngfellows, than to know how to behave yourselves prudently toward thosewhom 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; anda rival, in either, is almost a synonymous term for an enemy. Wheneveryou meet such a man, you are awkwardly cold to him, at best; but oftenrude, and always desirous to give him some indirect slap. This isunreasonable; for one man has as good a right to pursue an employment, ora mistress, as another; but it is, into the bargain, extremely imprudent;because you commonly defeat your own purpose by it, and while you arecontending with each other, a third often prevails. I grant you that thesituation is irksome; a man cannot help thinking as he thinks, norfeeling what he feels; and it is a very tender and sore point to bethwarted and counterworked in one's pursuits at court, or with amistress; but prudence and abilities must check the effects, though theycannot remove the cause. Both the pretenders make themselves disagreeableto their mistress, when they spoil the company by their pouting, or theirsparring; whereas, if one of them has command enough over himself(whatever he may feel inwardly) to be cheerful, gay, and easily andunaffectedly civil to the other, as if there were no manner ofcompetition between them, the lady will certainly like him the best, andhis rival will be ten times more humbled and discouraged; for he willlook upon such a behavior as a proof of the triumph and security of hisrival, he will grow outrageous with the lady, and the warmth of hisreproaches will probably bring on a quarrel between them. It is the samein business; where he who can command his temper and his countenance thebest, will always have an infinite advantage over the other. This is whatthe French call un 'procede honnete et galant', to PIQUE yourself uponshowing particular civilities to a man, to whom lesser minds would, inthe same case, show dislike, or perhaps rudeness. I will give you aninstance of this in my own case; and pray remember it, whenever you cometo 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 comeroundly into the war, and to stipulate their quotas of troops, etc. ; youracquaintance, the Abbe de la Ville, was there on the part of France, toendeavor 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 Imet him at a third place, I got somebody to present me to him; and I toldhim, that though we were to be national enemies, I flattered myself wemight be, however, personal friends, with a good deal more of the samekind; which he returned in full as polite a manner. Two days afterward, Iwent, early in the morning, to solicit the Deputies of Amsterdam, where Ifound l'Abbe de la Ville, who had been beforehand with me; upon which Iaddressed myself to the Deputies, and said, smilingly, I am very sorry, Gentlemen, to find my enemy with you; my knowledge of his capacity isalready sufficient to make me fear him; we are not upon equal terms; butI trust to your own interest against his talents. If I have not this dayhad the first word, I shall at least have the last. They smiled: the Abbewas pleased with the compliment, and the manner of it, stayed about aquarter of an hour, and then left me to my Deputies, with whom Icontinued upon the same tone, though in a very serious manner, and toldthem that I was only come to state their own true interests to them, plainly and simply, without any of those arts, which it was verynecessary for my friend to make use of to deceive them. I carried mypoint, and continued my 'procede' with the Abbe; and by this easy andpolite commerce with him, at third places, I often found means to fishout from him whereabouts he was. 

Remember, there are but two 'procedes' in the world for a gentleman and aman of parts; either extreme politeness or knocking down. If a mannotoriously and designedly insults and affronts you, knock him down; butif he only injures you, your best revenge is to be extremely civil to himin your outward behavior, though at the same time you counterwork him, and return him the compliment, perhaps with interest. This is not perfidynor dissimulation; it would be so if you were, at the same time, to makeprofessions of esteem and friendship to this man; which I by no meansrecommend, but on the contrary abhor. But all acts of civility are, bycommon consent, understood to be no more than a conformity to custom, forthe quiet and conveniency of society, the 'agremens' of which are not tobe disturbed by private dislikes and jealousies. Only women and littleminds pout and spar for the entertainment of the company, that alwayslaughs at, and never pities them. For my own part, though I would by nomeans give up any point to a competitor, yet I would pique myself uponshowing him rather more civility than to another man. In the first place, this 'procede' infallibly makes all 'les rieurs' of your side, which is aconsiderable party; and in the next place, it certainly pleases theobject of the competition, be it either man or woman; who never fail tosay, upon such an occasion, that THEY MUST OWN YOU HAVE BEHAVED YOURSELFVERY, HANDSOMELY IN THE WHOLE AFFAIR. The world judges from theappearances of things, and not from the reality, which few are able, andstill fewer are inclined to fathom: and a man, who will take care alwaysto be in the right in those things, may afford to be sometimes a littlein the wrong in more essential ones: there is a willingness, a desire toexcuse him. With nine people in ten, good-breeding passes forgood-nature, and they take attentions for good offices. At courts therewill be always coldnesses, dislikes, jealousies, and hatred, the harvestbeing but small in proportion to the number of laborers; but then, asthey arise often, they die soon, unless they are perpetuated by themanner in which they have been carried on, more than by the matter whichoccasioned them. The turns and vicissitudes of courts frequently makefriends of enemies, and enemies of friends; you must labor, therefore, toacquire that great and uncommon talent of hating with good-breeding andloving with prudence; to make no quarrel irreconcilable by silly andunnecessary indications of anger; and no friendship dangerous, in case itbreaks, by a wanton, indiscreet, and unreserved confidence. 

Few, (especially young) people know how to love, or how to hate; theirlove is an unbounded weakness, fatal to the person they love; their hateis a hot, rash, and imprudent violence, always fatal to themselves. 

Nineteen fathers in twenty, and every mother, who had loved you half aswell as I do, would have ruined you; whereas I always made you feel theweight 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 withyou from choice that my authority had from necessity. My advice is justeight-and-twenty years older than your own, and consequently, I believeyou 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 atleast, 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, ifever the desire of pleasing animated you, it must make you exert all themeans of doing it. You will see there, full as well, I dare say, asHorace 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 anAugustus; I need not name Voltaire, 'qui nil molitur inept?' as Horacehimself said of another poet. I have lately read over all his works thatare published, though I had read them more than once before. I wasinduced to this by his 'Siecle de Louis XIV', which I have yet read butfour times. In reading over all his works, with more attention I supposethan before, my former admiration of him is, I own, turned intoastonishment. There is no one kind of writing in which he has notexcelled. You are so severe a classic that I question whether you willallow me to call his 'Henriade' an epic poem, for want of the propernumber of gods, devils, witches and other absurdities, requisite for themachinery; which machinery is, it seems, necessary to constitute the'epopee'. But whether you do or not, I will declare (though possibly tomy 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 whichformerly made me love fire in others at any rate, and however attendedwith smoke; but now I must have all sense, and cannot, for the sake offive 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, whenhe slumbers, I sleep. Virgil, I confess, is all sense, and therefore Ilike him better than his model; but he is often languid, especially inhis five or six last books, during which I am obliged to take a good dealof snuff. Besides, I profess myself an ally of Turnus against the piousAEneas, who, like many 'soi-disant' pious people, does the most flagrantinjustice and violence in order to execute what they impudently call thewill of Heaven. But what will you say, when I tell you truly, that Icannot possibly read our countryman Milton through? I acknowledge him tohave some most sublime passages, some prodigious flashes of light; butthen you must acknowledge that light is often followed by darknessvisible, to use his own expression. Besides, not having the honor to beacquainted with any of the parties in this poem, except the Man and theWoman, the characters and speeches of a dozen or two of angels and of asmany devils, are as much above my reach as my entertainment. Keep thissecret for me: for if it should be known, I should be abused by everytasteless pedant, and every solid divine in England. 

'Whatever I have said to the disadvantage of these three poems, holdsmuch stronger against Tasso's 'Gierusalemme': it is true he has very fineand glaring rays of poetry; but then they are only meteors, they dazzle, then disappear, and are succeeded by false thoughts, poor 'concetti', andabsurd impossibilities; witness the Fish and the Parrot; extravaganciesunworthy 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; butthe Henriade is all sense from the beginning to the end, often adorned bythe justest and liveliest reflections, the most beautiful descriptions, the noblest images, and the sublimest sentiments; not to mention theharmony of the verse, in which Voltaire undoubtedly exceeds all theFrench poets: should you insist upon an exception in favor of Racine, Imust insist, on my part, that he at least equals him. What hero everinterested more than Henry the Fourth; who, according to the rules ofepic poetry, carries on one great and long action, and succeeds in it atlast? What descriptions ever excited more horror than those, first of theMassacre, and then of the Famine at Paris? Was love ever painted withmore truth and 'morbidezza' than in the ninth book? Not better, in mymind, even in the fourth of Virgil. Upon the whole, with all yourclassical rigor, if you will but suppose St. Louis a god, a devil, or awitch, and that he appears in person, and not in a dream, the Henriadewill 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 shouldexceed the bounds of a letter and run into a dissertation. How delightfulis his history of that northern brute, the King of Sweden, for I cannotcall him a man; and I should be sorry to have him pass for a hero, out ofregard to those true heroes, such as Julius Caesar, Titus, Trajan, andthe present King of Prussia, who cultivated and encouraged arts andsciences; whose animal courage was accompanied by the tender and socialsentiments of humanity; and who had more pleasure in improving, than indestroying their fellow-creatures. What can be more touching, or moreinteresting--what more nobly thought, or more happily expressed, than allhis dramatic pieces? What can be more clear and rational than all hisphilosophical letters? and whatever was so graceful, and gentle, as allhis 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 mustnecessarily give you the desire of pleasing them; and if you can frequentthem, their acquaintance will furnish you the means of pleasing everybodyelse. 

'A propos' of pleasing, your pleasing Mrs. F-----d is expected here intwo or three days; I will do all that I can for you with her: I think youcarried on the romance to the third or fourth volume; I will continue itto the eleventh; but as for the twelfth and last, you must come andconclude it yourself. 'Non sum qualis eram'. 

Good-night to you, child; for I am going to bed, just at the hour atwhich 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 kingsreign the most secure and the most absolute, who reign in the hearts oftheir people. Their popularity is a better guard than their army, and theaffections of their subjects a better pledge of their obedience thantheir fears. This rule is, in proportion, full as true, though upon adifferent scale, with regard to private people. A man who possesses thatgreat art of pleasing universally, and of gaining the affections of thosewith whom he converses, possesses a strength which nothing else can givehim: a strength which facilitates and helps his rise; and which, in caseof accidents, breaks his fall. Few people of your age sufficientlyconsider this great point of popularity; and when they grow older andwiser, strive in vain to recover what they have lost by their negligence. There are three principal causes that hinder them from acquiring thisuseful strength: pride, inattention, and 'mauvaise honte'. The first Iwill not, I cannot suspect you of; it is too much below yourunderstanding. You cannot, and I am sure you do not think yourselfsuperior by nature to the Savoyard who cleans your room, or the footmanwho cleans your shoes; but you may rejoice, and with reason, at thedifference that fortune has made in your favor. Enjoy all thoseadvantages; but without insulting those who are unfortunate enough towant them, or even doing anything unnecessarily that may remind them ofthat want. For my own part, I am more upon my guard as to my behavior tomy servants, and others who are called my inferiors, than I am toward myequals: for fear of being suspected of that mean and ungenerous sentimentof desiring to make others feel that difference which fortune has, andperhaps too, undeservedly, made between us. Young people do not enoughattend to this; and falsely imagine that the imperative mood, and a roughtone of authority and decision, are indications of spirit and courage. Inattention is always looked upon, though sometimes unjustly, as theeffect of pride and contempt; and where it is thought so, is neverforgiven. In this article, young people are generally exceedingly toblame, and offend extremely. Their whole attention is engrossed by theirparticular set of acquaintance; and by some few glaring and exaltedobjects of rank, beauty, or parts; all the rest they think so littleworth their care, that they neglect even common civility toward them. Iwill frankly confess to you, that this was one of my great faults when Iwas of your age. Very attentive to please that narrow court circle inwhich I stood enchanted, I considered everything else as bourgeois, andunworthy of common civility; I paid my court assiduously and skillfullyenough to shining and distinguished figures, such as ministers, wits, andbeauties; but then I most absurdly and imprudently neglected, andconsequently offended all others. By this folly I made myself a thousandenemies of both sexes; who, though I thought them very insignificant, found means to hurt me essentially where I wanted to recommend myself themost. I was thought proud, though I was only imprudent. A general easycivility and attention to the common run of ugly women, and of middlingmen, both which I sillily thought, called, and treated, as odd people, would have made me as many friends, as by the contrary conduct I mademyself enemies. All this too was 'a pure perte'; for I might equally, andeven more successfully, have made my court, when I had particular viewsto gratify. I will allow that this task is often very unpleasant, andthat one pays, with some unwillingness, that tribute of attention to dulland tedious men, and to old and ugly women; but it is the lowest price ofpopularity and general applause, which are very well worth purchasingwere 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 asto have their good word, if not their goodwill; or, at least, as tosecure a partial neutrality. 

'Mauvaise honte' not only hinders young people from making, a great manyfriends, but makes them a great many enemies. They are ashamed of doingthe thing they know to be right, and would otherwise do, for fear of themomentary laugh of some fine gentleman or lady, or of some 'mauvaisplaisant'. I have been in this case: and have often wished an obscureacquaintance at the devil, for meeting and taking notice of me when I wasin what I thought and called fine company. I have returned their noticeshyly, awkwardly, and consequently offensively; for fear of a momentaryjoke, not considering, as I ought to have done, that the very people whowould have joked upon me at first, would have esteemed me the more for itafterward. An example explains a rule best: Suppose you were walking inthe Tuileries with some fine folks, and that you should unexpectedly meetyour old acquaintance, little crooked Grierson; what would you do? I willtell you what you should do, by telling you what I would now do in thatcase myself. I would run up to him, and embrace him; say some kind ofthings to him, and then return to my company. There I should beimmediately asked: 'Mais qu'est ce que c'est donc que ce petit Sapajouque vous avez embrasse si tendrement? Pour cela, l'accolade a etecharmante'; with a great deal more festivity of that sort. To this Ishould answer, without being the least ashamed, but en badinant: O je nevous dirai tas qui c'est; c'est un petit ami que je tiens incognito, quia son merite, et qui, a force d'etre connu, fait oublier sa figure. Queme donnerez-vous, et je vous le presenterai'? And then, with a littlemore seriousness, I would add: 'Mais d'ailleurs c'est que je ne desavouejamais mes connoissances, a cause de leur etat ou de leur figure. Il fautavoir bien peu de sentimens pour le faire'. This would at once put an endto that momentary pleasantry, and give them all a better opinion of methan they had before. Suppose another case, and that some of the finestladies 'du bon ton' should come into a room, and find you sitting by, andtalking 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 finfixd la belle Marquise? La partie est-elle faite pour la petite maison?Le souper sera galant sans doute: Mais ne faistu donc point scrupule deseduire une jeune et aimable persone comme celle-la'? To this I shouldanswer: 'La partie n'etoit pas encore tout-a fait liee, vous nous avezinterrompu; mais avec le tems que fait-on? D'ailleurs moquezvous de mesamours tant qu'il vous plaira, je vous dirai que je respecte tant lesjeunes dames, que je respecte meme les vieilles, pour l'avoir ete. Aprecela il y a souvent des liaisons entre les vieilles et les jeunes'. Thiswould at once turn the pleasantry into an esteem for your good sense andyour good-breeding. Pursue steadily, and without fear or shame, whateveryour reason tells you is right, and what you see is practiced by peopleof more experience than yourself, and of established characters of goodsense and good-breeding. 

After all this, perhaps you will say, that it is impossible to pleaseeverybody. I grant it; but it does not follow that one should nottherefore 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. Butthis truth from long experience I assert, that he who has the mostfriends and the fewest enemies, is the strongest; will rise the highestwith the least envy; and fall, if he does fall, the gentlest, and themost pitied. This is surely an object worth pursuing. Pursue it accordingto the rules I have here given you. I will add one observation more, andtwo 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, bythe strange and unaccountable changes and vicissitudes of human affairs, somehow or other, and some time or other, become an useful friend or atrouble-some enemy, to the greatest and the richest. The late Duke ofOrmond was almost the weakest but at the same time the best-bred, andmost 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 almostsupplied the place of every talent he wanted; and he wanted almost everyone. They procured him the love of all men, without the esteem of any. Hewas impeached after the death of Queen Anne, only because that, havingbeen engaged in the same measures with those who were necessarily to beimpeached, his impeachment, for form's sake, became necessary. But he wasimpeached without acrimony, and without the lest intention that he shouldsuffer, notwithstanding the party violence of those times. The questionfor his impeachment, in the House of Commons, was carried by many fewervotes than any other question of impeachment; and Earl Stanhope, then Mr. Stanhope, and Secretary' of State, who impeached him, very soon afternegotiated and concluded his accommodation with the late King; to whom hewas to have been presented the next day. But the late Bishop ofRochester, Atterbury, who thought that the Jacobite cause might suffer bylosing the Duke of Ormond, went in all haste, and prevailed with the poorweak man to run away; assuring him that he was only to be gulled into adisgraceful submission, and not to be pardoned in consequence of it. Whenhis subsequent attainder passed, it excited mobs and disturbances intown. He had not a personal enemy in the world; and had a thousandfriends. All this was simply owing to his natural desire of pleasing, andto the mechanical means that his education, not his parts, had given himof doing it. The other instance is the late Duke of Marlborough, whostudied 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 amind to gain; and he had a mind to gain everybody, because he knew thateverybody was more or less worth gaining. Though his power, as Ministerand General, made him many political and party enemies, they did not makehim one personal one; and the very people who would gladly havedisplaced, disgraced, and perhaps attainted the Duke of Marlborough, atthe same time personally loved Mr. Churchill, even though his privatecharacter was blemished by sordid avarice, the most unamiable of allvices. He had wound up and turned his whole machine to please and engage. He had an inimitable sweetness and gentleness in his countenance, atenderness in his manner of speaking, a graceful dignity in every motion, and an universal and minute attention to the least things that couldpossibly please the least person. This was all art in him; art of whichhe well knew and enjoyed the advantages; for no man ever had moreinterior ambition, pride, and avarice, than he had. 

Though you have more than most people of your age, you have yet verylittle experience and knowledge of the world; now, I wish to inoculatemine upon you, and thereby prevent both the dangers and the marks ofyouth and inexperience. If you receive the matter kindly, and observe myprescriptions scrupulously, you will secure the future advantages of timeand join them to the present inestimable ones of one-and-twenty. 

I most earnestly recommend one thing to you, during your present stay atParis. I own it is not the most agreeable; but I affirm it to be the mostuseful thing in the world to one of your age; and therefore I do hopethat you will force and constrain yourself to do it. I mean, to conversefrequently, or rather to be in company frequently with both men and womenmuch your superiors in age and rank. I am very sensible that, at yourage, 'vous y entrez pour peu de chose, et meme souvent pour rien, et quevous y passerez meme quelques mauvais quart-d'heures'; but no matter; youwill be a solid gainer by it: you will see, hear, and learn the turn andmanners of those people; you will gain premature experience by it; and itwill give you a habit of engaging and respectful attentions. Versailles, as much as possible, though probably unentertaining: the Palais Royaloften, however dull: foreign ministers of the first rank, frequently, andwomen, though old, who are respectable and respected for their rank orparts; such as Madame de Pusieux, Madame de Nivernois, Madamed'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 areyet 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 agreat part of the day. 'Vous pouvez, si vous le voulex, tirer un grandparti 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 ofadmiration and applause, is, perhaps, the most universal principle ofhuman actions; I do not say that it is the best; and I will own that itis sometimes the cause of both foolish and criminal effects. But it is somuch oftener the principle of right things, that though they ought tohave a better, yet, considering human nature, that principle is to beencouraged and cherished, in consideration of its effects. Where thatdesire is wanting, we are apt to be indifferent, listless, indolent, andinert; we do not exert our powers; and we appear to be as much belowourselves as the vainest man living can desire to appear above what hereally is. 

As I have made you my confessor, and do not scruple to confess even myweaknesses to you, I will fairly own that I had that vanity, thatweakness, if it be one, to a prodigious degree; and, what is more, Iconfess it without repentance: nay, I am glad I had it; since, if I havehad the good fortune to please in the world, it is to that powerful andactive principle that I owe it. I began the world, not with a baredesire, but with an insatiable thirst, a rage of popularity, applause, and admiration. If this made me do some silly things on one hand, it mademe, on the other hand, do almost all the right things that I did; it mademe attentive and civil to the women I disliked, and to the men Idespised, in hopes of the applause of both: though I neither desired, norwould I have accepted the favors of the one, nor the friendship of theother. I always dressed, looked, and talked my best; and, I own, wasoverjoyed 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 thoughtwould 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 myvanity has very often made me take great pains to make a woman in lovewith me, if I could, for whose person I would not have given a pinch ofsnuff. In company with men, I always endeavored to outshine, or at least, if possible, to equal the most shining man in it. This desire elicitedwhatever powers I had to gratify it; and where I could not perhaps shinein 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 ownfashion and popularity. I was sent for to all parties of pleasure, bothof men or women; where, in some measure, I gave the 'ton'. This gave methe reputation of having had some women of condition; and thatreputation, whether true or false, really got me others. With the men Iwas 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 Inever omitted the least attentions of good-breeding, or the least officesof friendship, that could either please, or attach them to me: andaccordingly I was soon connected with all the men of any fashion orfigure in town. 

To this principle of vanity, which philosophers call a mean one, andwhich 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 youseem to have a degree of laziness and listlessness about you that makesyou indifferent as to general applause. This is not in character at yourage, 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 oneshould always put the best foot foremost. One should please, shine, anddazzle, wherever it is possible. At Paris, I am sure you must observe'que chacun se fait valoir autant qu'il est possible'; and La Bruyereobserves, very justly, qu'on ne vaut dans ce monde que ce qu'on veutvaloir': wherever applause is in question, you will never see a Frenchman, nor woman, remiss or negligent. Observe the eternal attentions andpoliteness that all people have there for one another. 'Ce n'est pas pourleurs beaux yeux au moins'. No, but for their own sakes, forcommendations and applause. Let me then recommend this principle ofvanity to you; act upon it 'meo periculo'; I promise you it will turn toyour account. Practice all the arts that ever coquette did, to please. Bealert and indefatigable in making every man admire, and every woman inlove with you. I can tell you too, that nothing will carry you higher inthe world. 

I have had no letter from you since your arrival at Paris, though youmust have been long enough there to have written me two or three. Inabout ten or twelve days I propose leaving this place, and going toLondon; I have found considerable benefit by my stay here, but not allthat 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 andinformed me. They have brought me acquainted with the character of thatable and artful lady; whom I am convinced that I now know much betterthan her directeur the Abby de Fenelon (afterward Archbishop of Cambray)did, when he wrote her the 185th letter; and I know him the better toofor that letter. The Abby, though brimful of the divine love, had a greatmind to be first minister, and cardinal, in order, NO DOUBT, to have anopportunity of doing the more good. His being 'directeur' at that time toMadame Maintenon, seemed to be a good step toward those views. She putherself 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 wasnecessary for them to appear saints to Lewis the Fourteenth, who theywere very sure was a bigot. It is to be presumed, nay, indeed, it isplain by that 185th letter that Madame Maintenon had hinted to herdirecteur some scruples of conscience, with relation to her commerce withthe King; and which I humbly apprehend to have been only some scruples ofprudence, at once to flatter the bigot character, and increase thedesires of the King. The pious Abbe, frightened out of his wits, lest theKing should impute to the 'directeur' any scruples or difficulties whichhe might meet with on the part of the lady, writes her theabove-mentioned letter; in which he not only bids her not tease the Kingby advice and exhortations, but to have the utmost submission to hiswill; and, that she may not mistake the nature of that submission, hetells her it is the same that Sarah had for Abraham; to which submissionIsaac perhaps was owing. No bawd could have written a more seducingletter to an innocent country girl, than the 'directeur' did to his'penitente'; who I dare say had no occasion for his good advice. Thosewho would justify the good 'directeur', alias the pimp, in this affair, must not attempt to do it by saying that the King and Madame Maintenonwere at that time privately married; that the directeur knew it; and thatthis was the meaning of his 'enigme'. That is absolutely impossible; forthat private marriage must have removed all scruples between the parties;nay, could not have been contracted upon any other principle, since itwas kept private, and consequently prevented no public scandal. It istherefore extremely evident that Madame Maintenon could not be married tothe King at the time when she scrupled granting, and when the 'directeur'advised her to grant, those favors which Sarah with so much submissiongranted to Abraham: and what the 'directeur' is pleased to call 'lemystere de Dieu', was most evidently a state of concubinage. The lettersare very well worth your reading; they throw light upon many things ofthose times. 

I have just received a letter from Sir William Stanhope, from Lyons; inwhich he tells me that he saw you at Paris, that he thinks you a littlegrown, 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 wouldtempt me. For instance, if you could by chance pick up at Paris, at areasonable 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, deFontanges, de Montbazon, de Sevigne, de Maintenon, de Chevreuse, deLongueville, d'Olonne, etc. , I should be tempted to purchase them. I amsensible that they can only be met with, by great accident, at familysales 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 inyour 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. Explainit to me. 

I shall go to town in four or five days, and carry back with me a littlemore hearing than I brought; but yet, not half enough for common wants. One wants ready pocket-money much oftener than one wants great sums; andto use a very odd expression, I want to hear at sight. I love every-daysenses, every-day wit and entertainment; a man who is only good onholydays is good for very little. Adieu. 

LETTER CLXXXIV

Christmas Day, 1752

MY DEAR FRIEND: A tyrant with legions at his com mand may say, Oderintmodo timeant; though he is a fool if he says it, and a greater fool if hethinks it. But a private man who can hurt but few, though he can pleasemany, must endeavor to be loved, for he cannot be feared in general. Popularity is his only rational and sure foundation. The good-will, theaffections, the love of the public, can alone raise him to anyconsiderable height. Should you ask me how he is to acquire them, I willanswer, 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 manyhave enjoyed them merely by desiring, and without deserving them. You donot imagine, I believe, that I mean by this public love the sentimentallove 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-willwhich a man may acquire in the world, by the arts of pleasingrespectively exerted according to the rank, the situation, and the turnof mind of those whom he hath to do with. The pleasing impressions whichhe makes upon them will engage their affections and their good wishes, and even their good offices as far (that is) as they are not inconsistentwith their own interests; for further than that you are not to expectfrom three people in the course of your life, even were it extended tothe patriarchal term. Could I revert to the age of twenty, and carry backwith me all the experience that forty years more have taught me, I canassure you, that I would employ much the greatest part of my time inengaging the good-will, and in insinuating myself into the predilectionof people in general, instead of directing my endeavors to please (as Iwas too apt to do) to the man whom I immediately wanted, or the woman Iwished for, exclusively of all others. For if one happens (and it willsometimes happen to the ablest man) to fail in his views with that man orthat woman, one is at a loss to know whom to address one's self to next, having offended in general, by that exclusive and distinguishedparticular application. I would secure a general refuge in the good-willof the multitude, which is a great strength to any man; for bothministers and mistresses choose popular and fashionable favorites. A manwho solicits a minister, backed by the general good-will and good wishesof mankind, solicits with great weight and great probability of success;and a woman is strangely biassed in favor of a man whom she sees infashion, and hears everybody speak well of. This useful art ofinsinuation consists merely of various little things. A graceful motion, a significant look, a trifling attention, an obliging word dropped 'apropos', air, dress, and a thousand other undefinable things, allseverally little ones, joined together, make that happy and inestimablecomposition, THE ART OF PLEASING. I have in my life seen many a veryhandsome woman who has not pleased me, and many very sensible men whohave disgusted me. Why? only for want of those thousand little means toplease, which those women, conscious of their beauty, and those men oftheir sense, have been grossly enough mistaken to neglect. I never was somuch in love in my life, as I was with a woman who was very far frombeing handsome; but then she was made up of graces, and had all the artsof pleasing. The following verses, which I have read in somecongratulatory poem prefixed to some work, I have forgot which, expresswhat I mean in favor of what pleases preferably to what is generallycalled 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 yourletter of recommendation of La Vestres; with which I was very wellpleased: there is a pretty turn in it; I wish you would always speak asgenteelly. I saw another letter from a lady at Paris, in which there wasa high panegyrical paragraph concerning you. I wish it were every word ofit literally true; but, as it comes from a very little, pretty, whitehand, 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 auratoujours 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 aletter from you. I hope, however, that you are well, but engrossed by thebusiness of Lord Albemarle's 'bureau' in the mornings, and by business ofa genteeler nature in the evenings; for I willingly give up my ownsatisfaction 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 MonsieurClairant the Academician. The former is a very pretty man, well-bred, andwith a great deal of useful knowledge; for those two things are veryconsistent. I examined him about you, thinking him a competent judge. Hetold me, 'que vous parliez l'Allemand comme un Allemand; que vous saviezle droit public de l'empire parfaitement bien; que vous aviez le goutsur, et des connoissances fort etendues'. I told him that I knew all thisvery 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 incomparison of what I do wish, and of what you ought to wish. Your friendClairant 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; jevous recuse pour juge, jusqu'a ce que vous ayez ete delaponne, au moinsdix ans, parmi les honnetes gens'. These testimonies in your favor aresuch as perhaps you are satisfied with, and think sufficient; but I amnot; they are only the cold depositions of disinterested and unconcernedwitnesses, upon a strict examination. When, upon a trial, a man callswitnesses to his character, and that those witnesses only say that theynever heard, nor do not know any ill of him, it intimates at best aneutral and insignificant, though innocent character. Now I want, and youought to endeavor, that 'les agremens, les graces, les attentions', etc. , should be a distinguishing part of your character, and specified of youby people unasked. I wish to hear people say of you, 'Ah qu'il estaimable! Quelles manieres, quelles graces, quel art de Claire'! Nature, thank God, has given you all the powers necessary; and if she has notyet, 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 yourperusal, if you have not already read them. They are bound up with a mostpoor 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 onlyof thoughts stolen from Swift, but miserably mangled and disfigured. Buthis history of the 'Croisades' shows, in a very short and strong light, the most immoral and wicked scheme that was ever contrived by knaves, andexecuted by madmen and fools, against humanity. There is a strange butnever-failing relation between honest madmen and skillful knaves; andwhenever one meets with collected numbers of the former, one may be verysure that they are secretly directed by the latter. The popes, who havegenerally been both the ablest and the greatest knaves in Europe, wantedall the power and money of the East; for they had all that was in Europealready. The times and the minds favored their design, for they were darkand uniformed; and Peter the Hermit, at once a knave and a madman, was afine papal tool for so wild and wicked an undertaking. I wish we had goodhistories of every part of Europe, and indeed of the world, written uponthe plan of Voltaire's 'de l'Esprit Humain'; for, I own, I am provoked atthe contempt which most historians show for humanity in general: onewould think by them that the whole human species consisted but of about ahundred and fifty people, called and dignified (commonly veryundeservedly too) by the titles of emperors, kings, popes, generals, andministers. 

I have never seen in any of the newspapers any mention of the affairs ofthe 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 caresof 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 sheapproved of extremely. This present was signified to me by one Mr. Harold, who wrote me a letter in very indifferent English; I suppose heis a Dane who has been in England. 

Mr. Harte came to town yesterday, and dined with me to-day. We talked youover; and I can assure you, that though a parson, and no member 'du beaumonde', he thinks all the most shining accomplishments of it full asnecessary 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 MIGHTAS WELL WANT EVERYTHING ELSE. 

This is the day when people reciprocally offer and receive the kindestand the warmest wishes, though, in general, without meaning them on oneside, or believing them on the other. They are formed by the head, incompliance with custom, though disavowed by the heart, in consequence ofnature. His wishes upon this occasion are the best that are the bestturned; you do not, I am sure, doubt the truth of mine, and therefore Iwill express them with a Quaker-like simplicity. May this new year be avery new one indeed to you; may you put off the old, and put on the newman! but I mean the outward, not the inward man. With this alteration, Imight 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 avery disagreeable reason for your late silence. By the symptoms which youmention of your illness, I both hope and believe that it was wholly owingto your own want of care. You are rather inclined to be fat, you havenaturally a good stomach, and you eat at the best tables; which must ofcourse make you plethoric: and upon my word you will be very subject tothese accidents, if you will not, from time to time, when you findyourself full, heated, or your head aching, take some little, easy, preventative purge, that would not confine you; such as chewing a littlerhubarb 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; forthose giddinesses and swimmings in the head always proceed from somefoulness of the stomach. However, upon the whole, I am very glad thatyour old complaint has not mixed itself with this, which I am fullyconvinced 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 thinkit employed to your advantage. You have long had the greatest share ofit; you now engross it. The moment is now decisive; the piece is going tobe exhibited to the public; the mere out lines and the general coloringare not sufficient to attract the eyes and to secure applause; but thelast finishing, artful, and delicate strokes are necessary. Skillfuljudges will discern and acknowledge their merit; the ignorant will, without knowing why, feel their power. In that view, I have throwntogether, 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, Ihave only consulted my memory; and my conclusions are all drawn fromfacts, not from fancy. Most maxim mongers have preferred the prettinessto the justness of a thought, and the turn to the truth; but I haverefused myself to everything that my own experience did not justify andconfirm. I wish you would consider them seriously, and separately, andrecur to them again 'pro re nata' in similar cases. Young men are as aptto think themselves wise enough, as drunken men are to think themselvessober enough. They look upon spirit to be a much better thing thanexperience; which they call coldness. They are but half mistaken; forthough spirit, without experience, is dangerous, experience, withoutspirit, is languid and defective. Their union, which is very rare, isperfection; you may join them, if you please; for all my experience is atyour service; and I do not desire one grain of your spirit in return. Usethem both, and let them reciprocally animate and check each other. I meanhere, by the spirit of youth, only the vivacity and presumption of youth, which hinder them from seeing the difficulties or dangers of anundertaking, but I do not mean what the silly vulgar call spirit, bywhich they are captious, jealous of their rank, suspicious of beingundervalued, and tart (as they call it) in their repartees, upon theslightest occasions. This is an evil, and a very silly spirit, whichshould be driven out, and transferred to an herd of swine. This is notthe spirit of a man of fashion, who has kept good company. People of anordinary, low education, when they happen to fail into good company, imagine themselves the only object of its attention; if the companywhispers, it is, to be sure, concerning them; if they laugh, it is atthem; and if anything ambiguous, that by the most forced interpretationcan be applied to them, happens to be said, they are convinced that itwas meant at them; upon which they grow out of countenance first, andthen angry. This mistake is very well ridiculed in the "Stratagem, " whereScrub says, I AM SURE THEY TALKED OF ME FOR THEY LAUGHED CONSUMEDLY. Awell-bred man seldom thinks, but never seems to think himself slighted, undervalued, or laughed at in company, unless where it is so plainlymarked 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 isvery 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 Iassert that it is absolutely necessary to do it: you must embrace the manyou hate, if you cannot be justified in knocking him down; for otherwiseyou avow the injury which you cannot revenge. A prudent cuckold (andthere are many such at Paris) pockets his horns when he cannot gore withthem; and will not add to the triumph of his maker by only butting withthem ineffectually. A seeming ignorance is very often a most necessarypart of worldly knowledge. It is, for instance, commonly advisable toseem ignorant of what people offer to tell you; and when they say, Haveyou 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, becausethey think that they tell it well; others have a pride in it, as beingthe sagacious discoverers; and many have a vanity in showing that theyhave been, though very undeservedly, trusted; all these would bedisappointed, and consequently displeased, if you said Yes. Seem alwaysignorant (unless to one's most intimate friend) of all matters of privatescandal and defamation, though you should hear them a thousand times; forthe parties affected always look upon the receiver to be almost as bad asthe thief: and, whenever they become the topic of conversation seem to bea skeptic, though you are really a serious believer; and always take theextenuating part. But all this seeming ignorance should be joined tothorough and extensive private informations: and, indeed, it is the bestmethod of procuring them; for most people have such a vanity in showing asuperiority over others, though but for a moment, and in the meresttrifles, that they will tell you what they should not, rather than notshow that they can tell what you did not know; besides that such seemingignorance will make you pass for incurious and consequently undesigning. However, fish for facts, and take pains to be well informed of everythingthat passes; but fish judiciously, and not always, nor indeed often, inthe shape of direct questions, which always put people upon their guard, and, often repeated, grow tiresome. But sometimes take the things thatyou would know for granted; upon which somebody will, kindly andofficiously, 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 allthat you want; but avoid direct questioning as much as you can. All thesenecessary arts of the world require constant attention, presence of mind, and coolness. Achilles, though invulnerable, never went to battle butcompletely armed. Courts are to be the theatres of your wars, where youshould be always as completely armed, and even with the addition of aheel-piece. The least inattention, the least DISTRACTION, may provefatal. I would fain see you what pedants call 'omnis homo', and what Popemuch better calls ALL-ACCOMPLISHED: you have the means in your power; addthe will; and you may bring it about. The vulgar have a coarse saying, ofSPOILING A SHIP FOR A HALFPENNY WORTH OF TAR; prevent the application byproviding the tar: it is very easily to be had in comparison with whatyou have already got. 

The fine Mrs. Pitt, who it seems saw you often at Paris, speaking of youthe 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 thatit did not strike you as it does others, I cannot determine; but I hopeshe had some other reason than truth for saying it. I will suppose thatyou did not care a pin for her; but, however, she surely deserved adegree of propitiatory adoration from you, which I am afraid youneglected. 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. Iplayed at cards, two days ago, with your friend Mrs. Fitzgerald, and hermost sublime mother, Mrs. Seagrave; they both inquired after you; andMrs. Fitzgerald said, she hoped you went on with your dancing; I said, Yes, and that you assured me, you had made such considerable improvementsin it, that you had now learned to stand still, and even upright. Your'virtuosa', la Signora Vestri, sung here the other day, with greatapplause: I presume you are INTIMATELY acquainted with her merit. Goodnight to you, whoever you pass it with. 

I have this moment received a packet, sealed with your seal, though notdirected by your hand, for Lady Hervey. No letter from you! Are you notwell?

LETTER CLXXXVII

LONDON, May 27, O. S. 1753. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this day been tired, jaded, nay, tormented, by thecompany of a most worthy, sensible, and learned man, a near relation ofmine, who dined and passed the evening with me. This seems a paradox, butis a plain truth; he has no knowledge of the world, no manners, noaddress; far from talking without book, as is commonly said of people whotalk sillily, he only talks by book; which in general conversation is tentimes worse. He has formed in his own closet from books, certain systemsof everything, argues tenaciously upon those principles, and is bothsurprised and angry at whatever deviates from them. His theories aregood, but, unfortunately, are all impracticable. Why? because he has onlyread and not conversed. He is acquainted with books, and an absolutestranger to men. Laboring with his matter, he is delivered of it withpangs; he hesitates, stops in his utterance, and always expresses himselfinelegantly. His actions are all ungraceful; so that, with all his meritand knowledge, I would rather converse six hours with the most frivoloustittle-tattle woman who knew something of the world, than with him. Thepreposterous 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 hismistakes, nor would he take it kindly: for he has considered everythingdeliberately, and is very sure that he is in the right. Impropriety is acharacteristic, 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 attendingeither to the general character, or the particular distinguishingcircumstances of the people to whom, or before whom they talk; whereasthe knowledge of the world teaches one, that the very same things whichare exceedingly right and proper in one company, time and place, areexceedingly absurd in others. In short, a man who has great knowledge, from experience and observation, of the characters, customs, and mannersof mankind, is a being as different from, and as superior to, a man ofmere book and systematical knowledge, as a well-managed horse is to anass. Study, therefore, cultivate, and frequent men and women; not only intheir outward, and consequently, guarded, but in their interior, domestic, and consequently less disguised, characters and manners. Takeyour notions of things, as by observation and experience you find theyreally are, and not as you read that they are or should be; for theynever are quite what they should be. For this purpose do not contentyourself 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 orthree '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 afew days at his country-house, accept of the invitation. This willnecessarily give you a versatility of mind, and a facility to adoptvarious manners and customs; for everybody desires to please those inwhose 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'sparticular manners, habits, and even weaknesses; nothing (to use a vulgarexpression) should come amiss to a young fellow. He should be, for goodpurposes, what Alcibiades was commonly for bad ones, a Proteus, assumingwith 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, layaside, or change occasionally, with as much ease as he would take or layaside his hat. All this is only to be acquired by use and knowledge ofthe world, by keeping a great deal of company, analyzing every character, and insinuating yourself into the familiarity of various acquaintance. Aright, a generous ambition to make a figure in the world, necessarilygives the desire of pleasing; the desire of pleasing points out, to agreat degree, the means of doing it; and the art of pleasing is, intruth, the art of rising, of distinguishing one's self, of making afigure and a fortune in the world. But without pleasing, without thegraces, as I have told you a thousand times, 'ogni fatica e vana'. Youare now but nineteen, an age at which most of your countrymen areilliberally getting drunk in port, at the university. You have greatlygot the start of them in learning; and if you can equally get the startof them in the knowledge and manners of the world, you may be very sureof outrunning them in court and parliament, as you set out much earlierthan 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 theirtravels unlicked cubs: and in their travels they only lick one another, for they seldom go into any other company. They know nothing but theEnglish world, and the worst part of that too, and generally very littleof any but the English language; and they come home, at three orfour-and-twenty, refined and polished (as is said in one of Congreve'splays) like Dutch skippers from a whale-fishing. The care which has beentaken of you, and (to do you justice) the care that you have taken ofyourself, has left you, at the age of nineteen only, nothing to acquirebut the knowledge of the world, manners, address, and those exterioraccomplishments. But they are great and necessary acquisitions, to thosewho have sense enough to know their true value; and your getting thembefore you are one-and-twenty, and before you enter upon the active andshining scene of life, will give you such an advantage over all yourcontemporaries, that they cannot overtake you: they must be distanced. You may probably be placed about a young prince, who will probably be ayoung king. There all the various arts of pleasing, the engaging address, the versatility of manners, the brillant, the graces, will outweigh, andyet outrun all solid knowledge and unpolished merit. Oil yourself, therefore, and be both supple and shining, for that race, if you would befirst, or early at the goal. Ladies will most probably too have somethingto say there; and those who are best with them will probably be bestSOMEWHERE ELSE. Labor this great point, my dear child, indefatigably;attend to the very smallest parts, the minutest graces, the most triflingcircumstances, that can possibly concur in forming the shining characterof a complete gentleman, 'un galant homme, un homme de cour', a man ofbusiness and pleasure; 'estime des hommes, recherche des femmes, aime detout le monde'. In this view, observe the shining part of every man offashion, who is liked and esteemed; attend to, and imitate thatparticular accomplishment for which you hear him chiefly celebrated anddistinguished: then collect those various parts, and make yourself amosiac of the whole. No one body possesses everything, and almosteverybody possesses some one thing worthy of imitation: only choose yourmodels well; and in order to do so, choose by your ear more than by youreye. The best model is always that which is most universally allowed tobe the best, though in strictness it may possibly not be so. We must takemost things as they are, we cannot make them what we would, nor oftenwhat they should be; and where moral duties are not concerned, it is moreprudent 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 withMadame Munter, which I am very glad of: you are in the fine companythere, and I hope one of it: for it is not enough, at your age, to bemerely 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 tobeauty, even independently of further views; which tribute I hope youpaid with alacrity to Madame Munter and Madame Degenfeldt: depend uponit, they expected it, and were offended in proportion as that tributeseemed either unwillingly or scantily paid. I believe my friendKreuningen admits nobody now to his table, for fear of theircommunicating the plague to him, or at least the bite of a mad dog. Prayprofit 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 callupon Mr. Burrish, at Aix-la-Chapelle, since it is so little out of yourway; and you will do still better, if you would, which I know you willnot, drink those waters for five or six days only, to scour your stomachand 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 willnaturally give you some to Comte Preysing, or Comte Sinsheim, and suchsort of grave people; but I could wish that you would ask him for some toyoung fellows of pleasure, or fashionable coquettes, that, you may be'dans l'honnete debauche de Munich'. A propos of your future motions; Ileave you in a great measure the master of them, so shall only suggest mythoughts to you upon that subject. 

You have three electoral courts in view, Bonn, Munich, and Manheim. Iwould advise you to see two of them rather cursorily, and fix yourtabernacle at the third, whichever that may be, for a considerable time. For instance, should you choose (as I fancy you will), to make Manheimthe place of your residence, stay only ten or twelve days at Bonn, and aslong at Munich, and then go and fix at Manheim; and so, vice versa, ifyou 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. Itis certain that no man can be much pleased himself, or please othersmuch, in any place where he is only a bird of passage for eight or tendays; neither party thinking it worth while to make an acquaintance, still less to form any connection, for so short a time; but when monthsare the case, a man may domesticate himself pretty well, and very soonnot 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 insideof it, and see it in its undress. That is the only way of knowing thecustoms, the manners, and all the little characteristical peculiaritiesthat distinguish one place from another; but then this familiarity is notto be brought about by cold, formal visits of half an hour: no; you mustshow a willingness, a desire, an impatience of forming connections, 'ilfaut s'y preter, et y mettre du liant, du desir de plaire. Whatever youdo approve, you must be lavish in your praises of; and you must learn tocommend what you do not approve of, if it is approved of there. You arenot much given to praise, I know; but it is because you do not yet knowhow extremely people are engaged by a seeming sanction to their ownopinions, prejudices, and weaknesses, even in the merest trifles. Ourself-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 remarkableinstance of this kind. The famous Earl of Shaftesbury, in the flagitiousreign of Charles the Second, while he was Chancellor, had a mind to be afavorite, as well as a minister of the King; in order, therefore, toplease his Majesty, whose prevailing passion was women, my Lord kept aw----e, whom he had no occasion for, and made no manner of use of. TheKing soon heard of it, and asked him if it was true; he owned it was; butthat, though he kept that one woman, he had several others besides, forhe loved variety. A few days afterward, the King, at his public levee, saw Lord Shaftesbury at some distance, and said in the circle, "One wouldnot think that that little, weak man is the greatest whore-master inEngland; but I can assure you that he is. " Upon Lord Shaftesbury's cominginto the circle, there was a general smile; the King said, "This isconcerning you, my Lord. "--"Me, sir?" answered the Chancellor, with somesurprise. "Yes, you, " answered the King; "for I had just said that youwere the greatest whore-master in England! Is it not true?"--"Of aSUBJECT, Sir, " replied Lord Shaftesbury, "perhaps I am. " It is the samein everything; we think a difference of opinion, of conduct, of manners, a tacit reproach, at least, upon our own; we must therefore use ourselvesto a ready conformity to whatever is neither criminal nor dishonorable. Whoever differs from any general custom, is supposed both to think, andproclaim himself wiser than the rest of the world: which the rest of theworld cannot bear, especially in a young man. A young fellow is alwaysforgiven and often applauded, when he carries a fashion to an excess; butnever if he stops short of it. The first is ascribed to youth and fire;but the latter is imputed to an affectation of singularity orsuperiority. At your age, one is allowed to 'outrer' fashion, dress, vivacity, gallantry, etc. , but by no means to be behindhand in any one ofthem. And one may apply to youth in this case, 'Si non errasset, feceratille minus'. Adieu. 

LETTER CLXXXIX

BATH, October 19, 1753

MY DEAR FRIEND: Of all the various ingredients that compose the usefuland necessary art of pleasing, no one is so effectual and engaging asthat gentleness, that 'douceur' of countenance and manner, to which youare no stranger, though (God knows why) a sworn enemy. Other people takegreat pains to conceal or disguise their natural imperfections; some bythe make of their clothes and other arts, endeavor to conceal the defectsof their shape; women, who unfortunately have natural bad complexions, lay on good ones; and both men and women upon whom unkind nature hasinflicted a surliness and ferocity of countenance, do at least all theycan, though often without success, to soften and mitigate it; they affect'douceur', and aim at smiles, though often in the attempt, like the Devilin Milton, they GRIN HORRIBLY A GHASTLY SMILE. But you are the onlyperson I ever knew in the whole course of my life, who not only disdain, but absolutely reject and disguise a great advantage that nature haskindly granted. You easily guess I mean COUNTENANCE; for she has givenyou a very pleasing one; but you beg to be excused, you will not acceptit; 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 youimagine 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 isto look fierce, and to 'blasemeer-op'. You will say, perhaps, What, am Ialways to be studying my countenance, in order to wear this 'douceur'? Ianswer, No; do it but for a fortnight, and you never will have occasionto think of it more. Take but half the pains to recover the countenancethat nature gave you, that you must have taken to disguise and deform itas you have, and the business will be done. Accustom your eyes to acertain softness, of which they are very capable, and your face tosmiles, which become it more than most faces I know. Give all yourmotions, too, an air of 'douceur', which is directly the reverse of theirpresent celerity and rapidity. I wish you would adopt a little of 'l'airdu Couvent' (you very well know what I mean) to a certain degree; it hassomething extremely engaging; there is a mixture of benevolence, affection, and unction in it; it is frequently really sincere, but isalmost always thought so, and consequently pleasing. Will you call thistrouble? 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 oflearning to dance so well as you do? It is neither a religious, moral, orcivil duty. You must own, that you did it then singly to please, and youwere, in the right on't. Why do you wear fine clothes, and curl yourhair? Both are troublesome; lank locks, and plain flimsy rags are mucheasier. 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 toplease in other things too, still more essential; and without which thetrouble you have taken in those is wholly thrown away. You show yourdancing, perhaps six times a year, at most; but you show your countenanceand your common motions every day, and all day. Which then, I appeal toyourself, ought you to think of the most, and care to render easy, graceful, and engaging? Douceur of countenance and gesture can alone makethem so. You are by no means ill-natured; and would you then mostunjustly be reckoned so? Yet your common countenance intimates, and wouldmake anybody who did not know you, believe it. 'A propos' of this, I musttell you what was said the other day to a fine lady whom you know, who isvery good-natured in truth, but whose common countenance impliesill-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 wassaying to me that you had a very engaging countenance when you had a mindto it, but that you had not always that mind; upon which Miss H----nsaid, that she liked your countenance best, when it was as glum as herown. Why then, replied Lady M--y, you two should marry; for while youboth wear your worst countenances, nobody else will venture upon eitherof you; and they call her now Mrs. Stanhope. To complete this 'douceur'of countenance and motions, which I so earnestly recommend to you, youshould carry it also to your expressions and manner of thinking, 'mettezy toujours de l'affectueux de l'onction'; take the gentle, the favorable, the indulgent side of most questions. I own that the manly and sublimeJohn Trott, your countryman, seldom does; but, to show his spirit anddecision, takes the rough and harsh side, which he generally adorns withan oath, to seem more formidable. This he only thinks fine; for to doJohn justice, he is commonly as good-natured as anybody. These are amongthe many little things which you have not, and I have, lived long enoughin the world to know of what infinite consequence they are in the courseof life. Reason then, I repeat it again, within yourself, CONSEQUENTIALLY; and let not the pains you have taken, and still take, toplease in some things be a 'pure perte', by your negligence of, andinattention to others of much less trouble, and much more consequence. 

I have been of late much engaged, or rather bewildered, in Orientalhistory, particularly that of the Jews, since the destruction of theirtemple, and their dispersion by Titus; but the confusion and uncertaintyof the whole, and the monstrous extravagances and falsehoods of thegreatest part of it, disgusted me extremely. Their Talmud, their Mischna, their Targums, and other traditions and writings of their Rabbins andDoctors, who were most of them Cabalists, are really more extravagant andabsurd, if possible, than all that you have read in Comte de Gabalis; andindeed most of his stuff is taken from them. Take this sample of theirnonsense, which is transmitted in the writings of one of their mostconsiderable Rabbins: "One Abas Saul, a man of ten feet high, was digginga grave, and happened to find the eye of Goliah, in which he thoughtproper to bury himself, and so he did, all but his head, which theGiant's eye was unfortunately not quite deep enough to receive. " This, Iassure you, is the most modest lie of ten thousand. I have also read theTurkish history which, excepting the religious part, is not fabulous, though very possibly not true. For the Turks, having no notion of lettersand being, even by their religion, forbid the use of them, except forreading and transcribing the Koran, they have no historians of their own, nor any authentic records nor memorials for other historians to workupon; so that what histories we have of that country are written byforeigners; as Platina, Sir Paul Rycaut, Prince Cantimer, etc. , or elsesnatches only of particular and short periods, by some who happened toreside there at those times; such as Busbequius, whom I have justfinished. 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 andmanners of the Turks, and of the nature of that government, which is amost extraordinary one. For, despotic as it always seems, and sometimesis, it is in truth a military republic, and the real power resides in theJanissaries; who sometimes order their Sultan to strangle his Vizir, andsometimes the Vizir to depose or strangle his Sultan, according as theyhappen to be angry at the one or the other. I own I am glad that thecapital strangler should, in his turn, be STRANGLE-ABLE, and now and thenstrangled; for I know of no brute so fierce, nor no criminal so guilty, as the creature called a Sovereign, whether King, Sultan, or Sophy, whothinks himself, either by divine or human right, vested with an absolutepower of destroying his fellow-creatures; or who, without inquiring intohis right, lawlessly exerts that power. The most excusable of all thosehuman monsters are the Turks, whose religion teaches them inevitablefatalism. A propos of the Turks, my Loyola, I pretend, is superior toyour Sultan. Perhaps you think this impossible, and wonder who thisLoyola is. Know then, that I have had a Barbet brought me from France, soexactly 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 hasalso the acquired knowledge of the Sultan; and I am apt to think that hestudied under the same master at Paris. His habit and his white band showhim 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 andinsinuation, make him supposed to be a Jesuit, and have acquired him thename of Loyola. I must not omit too, that when he breaks wind he smellsexactly 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 verylittle into company, being very little fit for any. I hope you keepcompany enough for us both; you will get more by that, than I shall byall my reading. I read simply to amuse myself and fill up my time, ofwhich I have too much; but you have two much better reasons for goinginto company, pleasure and profit. May you find a great deal of both in agreat deal of company! Adieu. 

LETTER CXC

LONDON, November 20, 1753

MY DEAR FRIEND: Two mails are now due from Holland, so that I have noletter from you to acknowledge; but that, you know, by long experience, does not hinder my writing to you. I always receive your letters withpleasure; but I mean, and endeavor, that you should receive mine withsome profit; preferring always your advantage to my own pleasure. 

If you find yourself well settled and naturalized at Manheim, stay theresome time, and do not leave a certain for an uncertain good; but if youthink you shall be as well, or better established at Munich, go there assoon as you please; and if disappointed, you can always return to ManheimI 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 youwill; 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 arewell 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 particularattention to the propriety and elegance of your style; employ the bestwords you can find in the language, avoid cacophony, and make yourperiods as harmonious as you can. I need not, I am sure, tell you whatyou must often have felt, how much the elegance of diction adorns thebest thoughts, and palliates the worst. In the House of Commons it isalmost everything; and, indeed, in every assembly, whether public orprivate. Words, which are the dress of thoughts, deserve surely more carethan 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 inany one language, it will give you a habit of attending to it in everyother; and if once you speak either French or German very elegantly, youwill afterward speak much the better English for it. I repeat it to youagain, for at least the thousandth time, exert your whole attention nowin acquiring the ornamental parts of character. People know very littleof the world, and talk nonsense, when they talk of plainness and solidityunadorned: they will do in nothing; mankind has been long out of a stateof nature, and the golden age of native simplicity will never return. Whether for the better or the worse, no matter; but we are refined; andplain manners, plain dress, and plain diction, would as little do inlife, as acorns, herbage, and the water of the neighboring spring, woulddo at table. Some people are just come, who interrupt me in the middle ofmy sermon; so good-night. 

LETTER CXCI

LONDON, November 26, 1753

DEAR FRIEND: Fine doings at Manheim! If one may give credit to the weeklyhistories of Monsieur Roderigue, the finest writer among the moderns; notonly 'des chasses brillantes et nombreuses des operas ou les acteurs sesurpassent les jours des Saints de L. L. A. A. E. E. Serenissimescelebres; en grand gala'; but to crown the whole, Monsieur Zuchmantel ishappily arrived, and Monsieur Wartenslebeu hourly expected. I hope thatyou are 'pars magna' of all these delights; though, as Noll Bluff says, in the "Old Bachelor, " THAT RASCALLY GAZETTEER TAKES NO MORE NOTICE OFYOU THAN IF YOU WERE NOT IN THE LAND OF THE LIVING. I should think thathe might at least have taken notice that in these rejoicings you appearedwith a rejoicing, and not a gloomy countenance; and you distinguishedyourself in that numerous and shining company, by your air, dress, address, and attentions. If this was the case, as I will both hope andsuppose it was, I will, if you require it, have him written to, to do youjustice in his next 'supplement'. Seriously, I am very glad that you arewhirled in that 'tourbillon' of pleasures; they smooth, polish, and ruboff rough corners: perhaps too, you have some particular COLLISION, whichis still more effectual. 

Schannat's "History of the Palatinate" was, I find, written originally inGerman, in which language I suppose it is that you have read it; but, asI must humbly content myself with the French translation, Vaillant hassent for it for me from Holland, so that I have not yet read it. Whileyou are in the Palatinate, you do very well to read everything relativeto it; you will do still better if you make that reading the foundationof your inquiries into the more minute circumstances and anecdotes ofthat country, whenever you are in company with informed and knowingpeople. 

The Ministers here, intimidated on the absurd and groundless clamors ofthe mob, have, very weakly in my mind, repealed, this session, the billwhich they had passed in the last for rendering Jews capable of beingnaturalized by subsequent acts of parliament. The clamorers triumph, andwill doubtless make further demands, which, if not granted, this piece ofcomplaisance will soon be forgotten. Nothing is truer in politics, thanthis reflection of the Cardinal de Retz, 'Que le peuple craint toujoursquand on ne le craint pas'; and consequently they grow unreasonable andinsolent, when they find that they are feared. Wise and honest governorswill never, if they can help it, give the people just cause to complain;but then, on the other hand, they will firmly withstand groundlessclamor. Besides that this noise against the Jew bill proceeds from thatnarrow mobspirit of INTOLERATION in religious, and inhospitality in civilmatters; both which all wise governments should oppose. 

The confusion in France increases daily, as, no doubt, you are informedwhere you are. There is an answer of the clergy to the remonstrances ofthe parliament, lately published, which was sent me by the last post fromFrance, and which I would have sent you, inclosed in this, were it nottoo bulky. Very probably you may see it at Manheim, from the FrenchMinister: it is very well worth your reading, being most artfully andplausibly written, though founded upon false principles; the 'jusdivinum' of the clergy, and consequently their supremacy in all mattersof faith and doctrine are asserted; both which I absolutely deny. Werethose two points allowed the clergy of any country whatsoever, they mustnecessarily govern that country absolutely; everything being, directly orindirectly, relative to faith or doctrine; and whoever is supposed tohave the power of saving and damning souls to all eternity (which powerthe 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 othersubjects, dependent upon the supreme legislative power, and are appointedby that power under whatever restrictions and limitations it pleases, tokeep up decency and decorum in the church, just as constables are to keeppeace in the parish. This Fra Paolo has clearly proved, even upon theirown 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 meor to anybody else, as your sore finger lately furnished you. I believeit was painful, and I am glad it is cured; but a sore finger, howeverpainful, is a much less evil than laziness, of either body or mind, andattended by fewer ill consequences. 

I am very glad to hear that you were distinguished at the court ofManheim from the rest of your countrymen and fellow-travelers: it is asign that you had better manners and address than they; for take it forgranted, the best-bred people will always be the best received whereverthey go. Good manners are the settled medium of social, as specie is ofcommercial life; returns are equally expected for both; and people willno 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 agreat deal of good; their ceremony and restraint being the propercorrectives and antidotes for your negligence and inattention. I believethey would not greatly relish your weltering in your own laziness, and aneasy chair; nor take it very kindly, if, when they spoke to you or you tothem, you looked another way, as much as to say, kiss my b----h. As theygive, so they require attention; and, by the way, take this maxim for anundoubted 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 nothaving answered either his account or my expectations. I doubt, as a winemerchant, he is the 'perfidus caupo', whatever he may be as a banker. Ishall therefore venture upon none of his wine; but delay making myprovision of Old Hock, till I go abroad myself next spring: as I told youin the utmost secrecy, in my last, that I intend to do; and then probablyI may taste some that I like, and go upon sure ground. There is commonlyvery good, both at Aix-la-Chapelle and Liege, where I formerly got someexcellent, 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 partof my last which related to your future motions. Whenever you shall betired of Berlin, go to Dresden; where Sir Charles Williams will be, whowill receive you with open arms. He dined with me to-day, and sets outfor Dresden in about six weeks. He spoke of you with great kindness andimpatience 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 placeto meet in: which probably will be Spa. Wherever you are, inform yourselfminutely of, and attend particularly to the affairs of France; they growserious, and in my opinion will grow more and more so every day. The Kingis despised and I do not wonder at it; but he has brought it about to behated at the same time, which seldom happens to the same man. Hisministers are known to be as disunited as incapable; he hesitates betweenthe Church and the parliaments, like the ass in the fable, that starvedbetween two hampers of hay: too much in love with his mistress to partwith her, and too much afraid of his soul to enjoy her; jealous of theparliaments, who would support his authority; and a devoted bigot to theChurch, that would destroy it. The people are poor, consequentlydiscontented; those who have religion, are divided in their notions ofit; which is saying that they hate one another. The clergy never doforgive; much less will they forgive the parliament; the parliament neverwill forgive them. The army must, without doubt, take, in their own mindsat last, different parts in all these disputes, which upon occasion wouldbreak out. Armies, though always the supporters and tools of absolutepower for the time being, are always the destroyers of it, too, byfrequently changing the hands in which they think proper to lodge it. This was the case of the Praetorian bands, who deposed and murdered themonsters they had raised to oppress mankind. The Janissaries in turkey, and the regiments of guards in Russia, do the same now. The French nationreasons freely, which they never did before, upon matters of religion andgovernment, and begin to be 'sprejiudicati'; the officers do so too; inshort, all the symptoms, which I have ever met with in history previousto great changes and revolutions in government, now exist, and dailyincrease, in France. I am glad of it; the rest of Europe will be thequieter, and have time to recover. England, I am sure, wants rest, for itwants men and money; the Republic of the United Provinces wants bothstill more; the other Powers cannot well dance, when neither France, northe maritime powers, can, as they used to do, pay the piper. The firstsquabble 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 lifeand a merry Christmas. So much for foreign politics; but 'a propos' ofthem, pray take care, while you are in those parts of Germany, to informyourself correctly of all the details, discussions, and agreements, whichthe several wars, confiscations, bans, and treaties, occasioned betweenthe Bavarian and Palatine Electorates; they are interesting and curious. 

I shall not, upon the occasion of the approaching new year, repeat to youthe 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 openthe new year with a most solemn and devout sacrifice to the Graces; whonever reject those that supplicate them with fervor; without them, let metell 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 pastfrom Munich. Since you are got so well out of the distress and dangers ofyour 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 dangerswhich you must expect to meet within your great, and I hope, long journeythrough life. In some parts of it, flowers are scattered, with profusion, the road is smooth, and the prospect pleasant: but in others (and I fearthe greater number) the road is rugged, beset with thorns and briars, andcut 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 mostcertainly succeed them. 

I thank you for your wild boar; who, now he is dead, I assure him, 'selaissera bien manger malgre qu'il en ait'; though I am not so sure that Ishould have had that personal valor which so successfully distinguishedyou in single combat with him, which made him bite the dust like Homer'sheroes, and, to conclude my period sublimely, put him into that PICKLE, from which I propose eating him. At the same time that I applaud yourvalor, I must do justice to your modesty; which candidly admits that youwere not overmatched, and that your adversary was about your own age andsize. A Maracassin, being under a year old, would have been below yourindignation. 'Bete de compagne', being under two years old, was still, inmy 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 manand boar, answer pretty well to yours. 

If accidents of bad roads or waters do not detain you at Munich, I do notfancy that pleasures will: and I rather believe you will seek for, andfind them, at the Carnival at Berlin; in which supposition, I eventuallydirect this letter to your banker there. While you are at Berlin (Iearnestly recommend it to you again and again) pray CARE to see, hear, know, and mind, everything there. THE ABLEST PRINCE IN EUROPE is surelyan object that deserves attention; and the least thing that he does, likethe smallest sketches of the greatest painters, has its value, and aconsiderable one too. 

Read with care the Code Frederick, and inform yourself of the goodeffects of it in those parts of, his dominions where it has taken place, and where it has banished the former chicanes, quirks, and quibbles ofthe old law. Do not think any detail too minute or trifling for yourinquiry and observation. I wish that you could find one hour's leisureevery day, to read some good Italian author, and to converse in thatlanguage with our worthy friend Signor Angelo Cori; it would both refreshand improve your Italian, which, of the many languages you know, I taketo be that in which you are the least perfect; but of which, too, youalready 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 toyour face, that they may not look upon you as a stranger. Observe, andtake their 'ton', even to their affectations and follies; for such thereare, and perhaps should be, at all courts. Stay, in all events, atBerlin, 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 goas soon after him as ever you please. Your time there will neither beunprofitably nor disagreeably spent; he will introduce you into all thebest company, though he can introduce you to none so good as his own. Hehas of late applied himself very seriously to foreign affairs, especiallythose of Saxony and Poland; he knows them perfectly well, and will tellyou what he knows. He always expresses, and I have good reason to believevery sincerely, great kindness and affection for you. 

The works of the late Lord Bolingbroke are just published, and haveplunged me into philosophical studies; which hitherto I have not beenmuch used to, or delighted with; convinced of the futility of thoseresearches; but I have read his "Philosophical Essay" upon the extent ofhuman knowledge, which, by the way, makes two large quartos and a half. He there shows very clearly, and with most splendid eloquence, what thehuman mind can and cannot do; that our understandings are wiselycalculated for our place in this planet, and for the link which we formin the universal chain of things; but that they are by no means capableof that degree of knowledge, which our curiosity makes us search after, and which our vanity makes us often believe we arrive at. I shall notrecommend to you the reading of that work; but, when you return hither, Ishall recommend to your frequent and diligent perusal all his tracts thatare relative to our history and constitution; upon which he throwslights, and scatters graces, which no other writer has ever done. 

Reading, which was always a pleasure to me, in the time even of mygreatest dissipation, is now become my only refuge; and, I fear, Iindulge it too much at the expense of my eyes. But what can I do? I mustdo something; I cannot bear absolute idleness; my ears grow every daymore useless to me, my eyes consequently more necessary; I will not hoardthem like a miser, but will rather risk the loss, than not enjoy the useof them. 

Pray let me know all the particulars, not only of your reception atMunich, but also at Berlin; at the latter, I believe, it will be a goodone; for his Prussian Majesty knows, that I have long been AN ADMIRER ANDRESPECTER 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; inconsequence of which, I direct this to you there, though I directed mythree 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 muchin the right to stay there. It is not by seeing places that one knowsthem, 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 youare to drive 'dans la course de Traineaux'; and I am apt to think you aremuch 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 therules of gallantry, you are obliged to overturn her on purpose; in thefirst place, for the chance of seeing her backside; in the next, for thesake of the contrition and concern which it would give you an opportunityof showing; and, lastly, upon account of all the 'gentillesses etepigrammes', which it would naturally suggest. Voiture has made severalstanzas upon an accident of that kind, which happened to a lady of hisacquaintance. 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 Italianscall '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 sheis of an irascible, impetuous disposition (as fine women can sometimesbe), you will doubtless place her in the body of a lion, a tiger, adragon, or some tremendous beast of prey and fury; if she is a sublimeand stately beauty, which I think more probable (for unquestionably sheis 'hogh gebohrne'), you will, I suppose, provide a magnificent swan orproud peacock for her reception; but if she is all tenderness andsoftness, you have, to be sure, taken care amorous doves and wantonsparrows should seem to flutter round her. Proper mottos, I take it forgranted, that you have eventually prepared; but if not, you may find agreat many ready-made ones in 'Les Entretiens d'Ariste et d'Eugene, surles Devises', written by Pere Bouhours, and worth your reading at anytime. 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 thatyou drive, but you carry the sun in your chariot; consequently, thefaster it goes, the less it will be likely to scorch or consume. This isSpanish enough, I am sure. 

If this finds you still at Munich, pray make many compliments from me toMr. 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 isas true too, that I served many others more, who have neither returnednor remembered those services. 

I have been very ill this last fortnight, of your old Carnioliancomplaint, 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 inall tyrannical governments, the remotest parts felt their share of itsseverity. Last post I was not able to hold a pen long enough to write toyou, and therefore desired Mr. Grevenkop to do it for me; but that letterwas directed to Berlin. My pain is now much abated, though I have stillsome fine remains of it in my shoulder, where I fear it will tease me agreat while. I must be careful to take Horace's advice, and considerwell, 'Quid valeant humeri, quid ferre recusent'. 

Lady Chesterfield bids me make you her compliments, and assure you thatthe 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 yourgreat improvement of late in the epistolary way, both with regard to thestyle and the turn of your letters; your four or five last to me havebeen very good ones, and one that you wrote to Mr. Harte, upon the newyear, was so pretty a one, and he was so much and so justly pleased withit, that he sent it me from Windsor the instant he had read it. Thistalent (and a most necessary one it is in the course of life) is to beacquired by resolving, and taking pains to acquire it; and, indeed, so isevery talent except poetry, which is undoubtedly a gift. Think, therefore, night and day, of the turn, the purity, the correctness, theperspicuity, and the elegance of whatever you speak or write; take myword for it, your labor will not be in vain, but greatly rewarded by theharvest of praise and success which it will bring you. Delicacy of turn, and elegance of style, are ornaments as necessary to common sense, asattentions, address, and fashionable manners, are to common civility;both may subsist without them, but then, without being of the least useto the owner. The figure of a man is exactly the same in dirty rags, orin the finest and best chosen clothes; but in which of the two he is themost likely to please, and to be received in good company, I leave to youto 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 withas much pleasure as I write it. It is to inform you, that, after somedifficulties and dangers, your seat in the new parliament is at lastabsolutely secured, and that without opposition, or the least necessityof your personal trouble or appearance. This success, I must furtherinform you, is in a great degree owing to Mr. Eliot's friendship to usboth; for he brings you in with himself at his surest borough. As it wasimpossible to act with more zeal and friendship than Mr. Eliot has actedin 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 coldones. You may inclose it in yours to me, and, I will send it to him, forhe is now in Cornwall. 

Thus, sure of being a senator, I dare say you do not propose to be one ofthe 'pedarii senatores, et pedibus ire in sententiam; for, as the Houseof Commons is the theatre where you must make your fortune and figure inthe world, you must resolve to be an actor, and not a 'persona muta', which is just equivalent to a candle snuffer upon other theatres. Whoeverdoes not shine there, is obscure, insignificant and contemptible; and youcannot conceive how easy it is for a man of half your sense and knowledgeto shine there if he pleases. The receipt to make a speaker, and anapplauded one too, is short and easy. --Take of common sense 'quantumsufcit', 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 largequantity of purity, correctness, and elegance of style. Take it forgranted, that by far the greatest part of mankind do neither analyze norsearch to the bottom; they are incapable of penetrating deeper than thesurface. All have senses to be gratified, very few have reason to beapplied to. Graceful utterance and action please their eyes, elegantdiction tickles their ears; but strong reason would be thrown away uponthem. I am not only persuaded by theory, but convinced by my experience, that (supposing a certain degree of common sense) what is called a goodspeaker is as much a mechanic as a good shoemaker; and that the twotrades are equally to be learned by the same degree of application. Therefore, for God's sake, let this trade be the principal object of yourthoughts; never lose sight of it. Attend minutely to your style, whateverlanguage you speak or write in; seek for the best words, and think of thebest 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 andelegance of diction will become so habitual to you, that they will costyou no more trouble. As I have laid this down to be mechanical andattainable by whoever will take the necessary pains, there will be nogreat vanity in my saying, that I saw the importance of the object soearly, and attended to it so young, that it would now cost me moretrouble to speak or write ungrammatically, vulgarly, and inelegantly, than ever it did to avoid doing so. The late Lord Bolingbroke, withoutthe 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 mehimself, by an early and constant attention to his style. The presentSolicitor-General, Murray, --[Created Lord Mansfield in the year1756. ]--has less law than many lawyers, but has more practice than any;merely upon account of his eloquence, of which he has a never-failingstream. I remember so long ago as when I was at Cambridge, whenever Iread pieces of eloquence (and indeed they were my chief study) whetherancient or modern, I used to write down the shining passages, and thentranslate them, as well and as elegantly as ever I could; if Latin orFrench, into English; if English, into French. This, which I practicedfor some years, not only improved and formed my style, but imprinted inmy mind and memory the best thoughts of the best authors. The trouble waslittle, but the advantage I have experienced was great. While you areabroad, you can neither have time nor opportunity to read pieces ofEnglish or parliamentary eloquence, as I hope you will carefully do whenyou return; but, in the meantime, whenever pieces of French eloquencecome in your way, such as the speeches of persons received into theAcademy, 'orasions funebres', representations of the several parliamentsto the King, etc. , read them in that view, in that spirit; observe theharmony, the turn and elegance of the style; examine in what you think itmight have been better; and consider in what, had you written ityourself; you might have done worse. Compare the different manners ofexpressing the same thoughts in different authors; and observe howdifferently the same things appear in different dresses. Vulgar, coarse, and ill-chosen words, will deform and degrade the best thoughts as muchas rags and dirt will the best figure. In short, you now know yourobject; pursue it steadily, and have no digressions that are not relativeto, and connected with, the main action. Your success in parliament willeffectually remove all OTHER OBJECTIONS; either a foreign or a domesticdestination will no longer be refused you, if you make your way to itthrough 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 willbe 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 earlyas your age will permit, a member of that House; which is the only roadto figure and fortune in this country. Those, indeed, who are bred up to, and distinguish themselves in particular professions, as the army, thenavy, and the law, may, by their own merit, raise themselves to a certaindegree; but you may observe too, that they never get to the top, withoutthe assistance of parliamentary talents and influence. The means ofdistinguishing yourself in parliament are, as I told you in my last, muchmore easily attained than I believe you imagine. Close attendance to thebusiness of the House will soon give you the parliamentary routine; andstrict 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 finespeaker, as a phenomenon, a supernatural being, and endowed with somepeculiar gift of heaven; they stare at him, if he walks in the Park, andcry, 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, whoadorns common thoughts with the graces of elocution, and the elegance ofstyle. The miracle will then cease; and you will be convinced, that withthe same application, and attention to the same objects, you may mostcertainly equal, and perhaps surpass, this prodigy. Sir W----Y-------, with not a quarter of your parts, and not a thousandth part of yourknowledge, has, by a glibness of tongue simply, raised him successivelyto the best employments of the kingdom; he has been Lord of theAdmiralty, Lord of the Treasury, Secretary at War, and is nowVice-Treasurer of Ireland; and all this with a most sullied, not to sayblasted character. Represent the thing to yourself, as it really is, easily attainable, and you will find it so. Have but ambition enoughpassionately to desire the object, and spirit enough to use the means, and I will be answerable for your success. When I was younger than youare, I resolved within myself that I would in all events be a speaker inparliament, and a good one too, if I could. I consequently never lostsight of that object, and never neglected any of the means that I thoughtled to it. I succeeded to a certain degree; and, I assure you, with greatease, and without superior talents. Young people are very apt to overrateboth men and things, from not being enough acquainted with them. Inproportion as you come to know them better, you will value them less. Youwill find that reason, which always ought to direct mankind, seldom does;but that passions and weaknesses commonly usurp its seat, and rule in itsstead. You will find that the ablest have their weak sides too, and areonly comparatively able, with regard to the still weaker herd: havingfewer weaknesses themselves, they are able to avail themselves of theinnumerable ones of the generality of mankind: being more masters ofthemselves, they become more easily masters of others. They addressthemselves to their weaknesses, their senses, their passions; never totheir reason; and consequently seldom fail of success. But then analyzethose great, those governing, and, as the vulgar imagine, those perfectcharacters, and you will find the great Brutus a thief in Macedonia, thegreat Cardinal Richelieu a jealous poetaster, and the great Duke ofMarlborough a miser. Till you come to know mankind by your ownexperience, I know no thing, nor no man, that can in the meantime bringyou so well acquainted with them as le Duc de la Rochefoucault: hislittle book of "Maxims, " which I would advise you to look into, for somemoments at least, every day of your life, is, I fear, too like, and tooexact a picture of human nature. 

I own, it seems to degrade it; but yet my experience does not convince methat it degrades it unjustly. 

Now, to bring all this home to my first point. All these considerationsshould not only invite you to attempt to make a figure in parliament, butencourage you to hope that you shall succeed. To govern mankind, one mustnot overrate them: and to please an audience, as a speaker, one must notovervalue it. When I first came into the House of Commons, I respectedthat 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 requiredplain common sense, dressed up in good language; and that all the othersonly required flowing and harmonious periods, whether they conveyed anymeaning or not; having ears to hear, but not sense enough to judge. Theseconsiderations made me speak with little concern the first time, withless the second, and with none at all the third. I gave myself no furthertrouble about anything, except my elocution, and my style; presuming, without much vanity, that I had common sense sufficient not to talknonsense. Fix these three truths strongly in your mind: First, that it isabsolutely necessary for you to speak in parliament; secondly, that itonly requires a little human attention, and no supernatural gifts; and, thirdly, that you have all the reason in the world to think that youshall speak well. When we meet, this shall be the principal subject ofour conversations; and, if you will follow my advice, I will answer foryour 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 hopeyou take great care of your mouth and teeth, and that you clean them wellevery morning with a sponge and tepid water, with a few drops ofarquebusade water dropped into it; besides washing your mouth carefullyafter every meal, I do insist upon your never using those sticks, or anyhard substance whatsoever, which always rub away the gums, and destroythe varnish of the teeth. I speak this from woeful experience; for mynegligence 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 abovesix or seven left. I lost one this morning, which suggested this adviceto you. 

I have received the tremendous wild boar, which your still moretremendous arm slew in the immense deserts of the Palatinate; but havenot yet tasted of it, as it is hitherto above my low regimen. The lateKing of Prussia, whenever he killed any number of wild boars, used tooblige the Jews to buy them, at a high price, though they could eat noneof them; so they defrayed the expense of his hunting. His son has justerrules of government, as the Code Frederick plainly shows. 

I hope, that, by this time, you are as well 'ancre' at Berlin as you wasat 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, andof the 11th from Ratisbon; but I have not received that of the 31stJanuary, to which you refer in the former. It is to this negligence anduncertainty of the post, that you owe your accidents between Munich andRatisbon: for, had you received my letters regularly, you would havereceived one from me before you left Munich, in which I advised you tostay, since you were so well there. But, at all events, you were in thewrong to set out from Munich in such weather and such roads; since youcould never imagine that I had set my heart so much upon your going toBerlin, as to venture your being buried in the snow for it. Upon thewhole, considering all you are very well off. You do very well, in mymind, to return to Munich, or at least to keep within the circle ofMunich, 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 amextremely indifferent about your going to Berlin. 

As to our meeting, I will tell you my plan, and you may form your ownaccordingly. I propose setting out from hence the last week in April, then drinking the Aix-la-Chapelle waters for a week, and from thencebeing at Spa about the 15th of May, where I shall stay two months atmost, and then return straight to England. As I both hope and believethat there will be no mortal at Spa during my residence there, thefashionable season not beginning till the middle of July, I would by nomeans have you come there at first, to be locked up with me and some fewCapucins, for two months, in that miserable hole; but I would advise youto stay where you like best, till about the first week in July, and thento come and pick me up at Spa, or meet me upon the road at Liege orBrussels. As for the intermediate time, should you be weary of Manheimand Munich, you may, if you please, go to Dresden, to Sir CharlesWilliams, who will be there before that time; or you may come for a monthor six weeks to The Hague; or, in short, go or stay wherever you likebest. So much for your motions. 

As you have sent for all the letters directed to you at Berlin, you willreceive from thence volumes of mine, among which you will easily perceivethat some were calculated for a supposed perusal previous to your openingthem. I will not repeat anything contained in them, excepting that Idesire 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 hisown borough of Liskeard, where you will be elected jointly with him, without the least opposition or difficulty. I will forward that letter tohim into Cornwall, where he now is. 

Now that you are to be soon a man of business, I heartily wish that youwould immediately begin to be a man of method; nothing contributing moreto facilitate and dispatch business, than method and order. Have orderand method in your accounts, in your reading, in the allotment of yourtime; in short, in everything. You cannot conceive how much time you willsave by it, nor how much better everything you do will be done. The Dukeof Marlborough did by no means spend, but he slatterned himself into thatimmense debt, which is not yet near paid off. The hurry and confusion ofthe Duke of Newcastle do not proceed from his business, but from his wantof method in it. Sir Robert Walpole, who had ten times the business todo, was never seen in a hurry, because he always did it with method. Thehead of a man who has business, and no method nor order, is properly that'rudis indigestaque moles quam dixere chaos'. As you must be consciousthat you are extremely negligent and slatternly, I hope you will resolvenot to be so for the future. Prevail with yourself, only to observe goodmethod and order for one fortnight; and I will venture to assure you thatyou will never neglect them afterward, you will find such conveniency andadvantage arising from them. Method is the great advantage that lawyershave over other people, in speaking in parliament; for, as they mustnecessarily observe it in their pleadings in the courts of justice, itbecomes habitual to them everywhere else. Without making you acompliment, I can tell you with pleasure, that order, method, and moreactivity of mind, are all that you want, to make, some day or other, aconsiderable figure in business. You have more useful knowledge, morediscernment of characters, and much more discretion, than is common atyour age; much more, I am sure, than I had at that age. Experience youcannot yet have, and therefore trust in the meantime to mine. I am an oldtraveler; 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 notfrom design. 

I can assure you, that you will have no opportunity of subscribingyourself my Excellency's, etc. Retirement and quiet were my choice someyears ago, while I had all my senses, and health and spirits enough tocarry on business; but now that I have lost my hearing, and that I findmy constitution declining daily, they are become my necessary and onlyrefuge. I know myself (no common piece of knowledge, let me tell you), Iknow what I can, what I cannot, and consequently what I ought to do. Iought not, and therefore will not, return to business when I am much lessfit 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 adifferent figure from that which I once made there. My pride would be toomuch mortified by that difference. The two important senses of seeing andhearing should not only be good, but quick, in business; and the businessof a Lord-lieutenant of Ireland (if he will do it himself) requires boththose senses in the highest perfection. It was the Duke of Dorset's notdoing the business himself, but giving it up to favorites, that hasoccasioned all this confusion in Ireland; and it was my doing the wholemyself, without either Favorite, Minister, or Mistress, that made myadministration so smooth and quiet. I remember, when I named the late Mr. Liddel for my Secretary, everybody was much surprised at it; and some ofmy friends represented to me, that he was no man of business, but only avery genteel, pretty young fellow; I assured them, and with truth, thatthat was the very reason why I chose him; for that I was resolved to doall the business myself, and without even the suspicion of having aminister; which the Lord-lieutenant's Secretary, if he is a man ofbusiness, is always supposed, and commonly with reason, to be. Moreover, I look upon myself now to be emeritus in business, in which I have beennear forty years together; I give it up to you: apply yourself to it, asI have done, for forty years, and then I consent to your leaving it for aphilosophical retirement among your friends and your books. Statesmen andbeauties are very rarely sensible of the gradations of their decay; and, too often sanguinely hoping to shine on in their meridian, often set withcontempt and ridicule. I retired in time, 'uti conviva satur'; or, asPope says still better, ERE TITTERING YOUTH SHALL SHOVE YOU FROM THESTAGE. My only remaining ambition is to be the counsellor and minister ofyour rising ambition. Let me see my own youth revived in you; let me beyour Mentor, and, with your parts and knowledge, I promise you, you shallgo far. You must bring, on your part, activity and attention; and I willpoint out to you the proper objects for them. I own I fear but one thingfor you, and that is what one has generally the least reason to fear fromone of your age; I mean your laziness; which, if you indulge, will makeyou stagnate in a contemptible obscurity all your life. It will hinderyou from doing anything that will deserve to be written, or from writinganything that may deserve to be read; and yet one or other of those twoobjects should be at least aimed at by every rational being. 

I look upon indolence as a sort of SUICIDE; for the man is effectuallydestroyed, though the appetites of the brute may survive. Business by nomeans forbids pleasures; on the contrary, they reciprocally season eachother; and I will venture to affirm, that no man enjoys either inperfection, that does not join both. They whet the desire for each other. Use yourself, therefore, in time to be alert and diligent in your littleconcerns; never procrastinate, never put off till to-morrow what you cando to-day; and never do two things at a time; pursue your object, be itwhat it will, steadily and indefatigably; and let any difficulties (ifsurmountable) rather animate than slacken your endeavors. Perseverancehas surprising effects. 

I wish you would use yourself to translate, every day, only three or fourlines, from any book, in any language, into the correctest and mostelegant English that you can think of; you cannot imagine how it willinsensibly form your style, and give you an habitual elegance; it wouldnot 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 youreceive it. So good-night. 

LETTER CXCVIII

LONDON, March 8, 1754

MY DEAR FRIEND: A great and unexpected event has lately happened in ourministerial world. Mr. Pelham died last Monday of a fever andmortification, occasioned by a general corruption of his whole mass ofblood, which had broke out into sores in his back. I regret him as an oldacquaintance, a pretty near relation, and a private man, with whom I havelived many years in a social and friendly way. He meant well to thepublic; and was incorrupt in a post where corruption is commonlycontagious. If he was no shining, enterprising minister, he was a safeone, which I like better. Very shining ministers, like the sun, are aptto scorch when they shine the brightest: in our constitution, I preferthe milder light of a less glaring minister. His successor is not yet, atleast publicly, 'designatus'. You will easily suppose that many are verywilling, and very few able, to fill that post. Various persons are talkedof, by different people, for it, according as their interest prompts themto wish, or their ignorance to conjecture. Mr. Fox is the most talked of;he is strongly supported by the Duke of Cumberland. Mr. Legge, theSolicitor-General, and Dr. Lee, are likewise all spoken of, upon the footof the Duke of Newcastle's, and the Chancellor's interest. Should it beany one of the last three, I think no great alterations will ensue; butshould Mr. Fox prevail, it would, in my opinion, soon produce changes byno means favorable to the Duke of Newcastle. In the meantime, the wildconjectures of volunteer politicians, and the ridiculous importancewhich, upon these occasions, blockheads always endeavor to givethemselves, by grave looks, significant shrugs, and insignificantwhispers, 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 hasheard something from a very good hand; a third congratulates himself upona certain degree of intimacy, which he has long had with everyone of thecandidates, 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 beenso long behind the scenes as I have is much more diverted with theentertainment, 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 atthe silly wonder and wild conjectures of the uninformed spectators. Thisaccident, I think, cannot in the least affect your election, which isfinally settled with your friend Mr. Eliot. For, let who will prevail, Ipresume, he will consider me enough, not to overturn an arrangement ofthat sort, in which he cannot possibly be personally interested. So praygo on with your parliamentary preparations. Have that object always inyour view, and pursue it with attention. 

I take it for granted that your late residence in Germany has made you asperfect and correct in German, as you were before in French, at least itis worth your while to be so; because it is worth every man's while to beperfectly 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; heis cramped and confined, and consequently can never appear to advantage. Examine and analyze those thoughts that strike you the most, either inconversation or in books; and you will find that they owe at least halftheir merit to the turn and expression of them. There is nothing truerthan that old saying, 'Nihil dictum quod non prins dictum'. It is onlythe manner of saying or writing it that makes it appear new. Convinceyourself that manner is almost everything, in everything; and study itaccordingly. 

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 succeedMr. Pelham as First Commissioner of the Treasury and Chancellor of theExchequer; and your friend, Mr. Yorke, of The Hague, to succeed Mr. Foxas Secretary at War. I am not sorry for this promotion of Mr. Fox, as Ihave always been upon civil terms with him, and found him ready to do meany little services. He is frank and gentleman-like in his manner: and, to a certain degree, I really believe will be your friend upon myaccount; 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 ismore 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 hopethat you are quietly and warmly fixed at some good town: and will notrisk a second burial in the snow, after your late fortunate resurrectionout of it. Your letters, I suppose, have not been able to make their waythrough the ice; for I have received none from you since that of the 12thof February, from Ratisbon. I am the more uneasy at this state ofignorance, because I fear that you may have found some subsequentinconveniences from your overturn, which you might not be aware of atfirst. 

The curtain of the political theatre was partly drawn up the day beforeyesterday, and exhibited a scene which the public in general did notexpect; the Duke of Newcastle was declared First Lord Commissioner of theTreasury, Mr. Fox Secretary of State in his room, and Mr. Henry LeggeChancellor of the Exchequer: The employments of Treasurer of the Navy, and Secretary at War, supposed to be vacant by the promotion of Mr. Foxand Mr. Legge, were to be kept 'in petto' till the dissolution of thisparliament, which will probably be next week, to avoid the expense andtrouble of unnecessary re-elections; but it was generally supposed thatColonel Yorke, of The Hague, was to succeed Mr. Fox; and GeorgeGreenville, Mr. Legge. This scheme, had it taken place, you are, Ibelieve aware, was more a temporary expedient, for securing the electionsof the new parliament, and forming it, at its first meeting, to theinterests and the inclinations of the Duke of Newcastle and theChancellor, than a plan of administration either intended or wished to bepermanent. This scheme was disturbed yesterday: Mr. Fox, who had sullenlyaccepted the seals the day before, more sullenly refused them yesterday. His object was to be First Commissioner of the Treasury, and Chancellorof the Exchequer, and consequently to have a share in the election of thenew parliament, and a much greater in the management of it when chosen. This necessary consequence of his view defeated it; and the Duke ofNewcastle and the Chancellor chose to kick him upstairs into theSecretaryship of State, rather than trust him with either the election orthe management of the new parliament. In this, considering theirrespective situations, they certainly acted wisely; but whether Mr. Foxhas done so, or not, in refusing the seals, is a point which I cannotdetermine. If he is, as I presume he is, animated with revenge, and Ibelieve would not be over scrupulous in the means of gratifying it, Ishould have thought he could have done it better, as Secretary of State, with constant admission into the closet, than as a private man at thehead of an opposition. But I see all these things at too great a distanceto be able to judge soundly of them. The true springs and motives ofpolitical measures are confined within a very narrow circle, and known toa very few; the good reasons alleged are seldom the true ones: The publiccommonly judges, or rather guesses, wrong, and I am now one of thatpublic. I therefore recommend to you a prudent Pyrrhonism in all mattersof state, until you become one of the wheels of them yourself, andconsequently acquainted with the general motion, at least, of the others;for as to all the minute and secret springs, that contribute more or lessto the whole machine, no man living ever knows them all, not even he whohas the principal direction of it. As in the human body, there areinnumerable little vessels and glands that have a good deal to do, andyet escape the knowledge of the most skillful anatomist; he will knowmore, indeed, than those who only see the exterior of our bodies, but hewill never know all. This bustle, and these changes at court, far fromhaving disturbed the quiet and security of your election, have, ifpossible, rather confirmed them; for the Duke of Newcastle (I must do himjustice) has, in, the kindest manner imaginable to you, wrote a letter toMr. Eliot, to recommend to him the utmost care of your election. 

Though the plan of administration is thus unsettled, mine, for my travelsthis summer, is finally settled; and I now communicate it to you that youmay form your own upon it. I propose being at Spa on the 10th or 12th ofMay, and staying there till the 10th of July. As there will be no mortalthere during my stay, it would be both unpleasant and unprofitable to youto be shut up tete-a-fete with me the whole time; I should thereforethink 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 thinkthat you have had enough of Manheim, Munich, or Ratisbon, and thatdistrict. Where would you choose to go then? For I leave you absolutelyyour choice. Would you go to Dresden for a month or six weeks? That is agood deal out of your way, and I am not sure that Sir Charles will bethere by that time. Or would you rather take Bonn in your way, and passthe time till we meet at The Hague? From Manheim you may have a greatmany 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 youwould arrive there at that season of the year when The Hague is, in mymind, the most agreeable, smiling scene in Europe; and from The Hague youwould 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 youshould answer that you desire to be determined by me, I will eventuallytell you my opinion. I am rather inclined to the latter plan; I mean thatof your coming to Bonn, staying there according as you like it, and thenpassing the remainder of your time, that is May and June, at The Hague. Our connection and transactions with the Republic of the UnitedProvinces are such, that you cannot be too well acquainted with thatconstitution, and with those people. You have established goodacquaintances there, and you have been 'fetoie' round by the foreignministers; so that you will be there 'en pais connu'. Moreover, you havenot seen the Stadtholder, the 'Gouvernante', nor the court there, which'a bon compte' should be seen. Upon the whole, then, you cannot, in myopinion, pass the months of May and June more agreeably, or moreusefully, than at The Hague. But, however, if you have any other, planthat 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 theelection of the new one issued out immediately afterward; so that, by theend of next month, you may depend upon being 'Membre de la chambrebasse'; a title that sounds high in foreign countries, and perhaps higherthan it deserves. I hope you will add a better title to it in your own, Imean that of a good speaker in parliament: you have, I am sure, all, thematerials necessary for it, if you will but put them together and adornthem. I spoke in parliament the first month I was in it, and a monthbefore I was of age; and from the day I was elected, till the day that Ispoke. I am sure I thought nor dreamed of nothing but speaking. The firsttime, to say the truth, I spoke very indifferently as to the matter; butit passed tolerably, in favor of the spirit with which I uttered it, andthe words in which I had dressed it. I improved by degrees, till at lastit did tolerably well. The House, it must be owned, is always extremelyindulgent to the two or three first attempts of a young speaker; and ifthey find any degree of common sense in what he says, they make greatallowances for his inexperience, and for the concern which they supposehim to be under. I experienced that indulgence; for had I not been ayoung member, I should certainly have been, as I own I deserved, reprimanded by the House for some strong and indiscreet things that Isaid. Adieu! It is indeed high time. 

LETTER CC

LONDON, March 26, 1754

MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter of the 15th fromManheim, where I find you have been received in the usual graciousmanner; which I hope you return in a GRACEFUL one. As this is a season ofgreat devotion and solemnity in all Catholic countries, pray informyourself of, and constantly attend to, all their silly and pompous churchceremonies; one ought to know them. I am very glad that you wrote theletter to Lord------, which, in every different case that can possibly besupposed, was, I am sure, both a decent and a prudent step. You will findit very difficult, whenever we meet, to convince me that you could haveany 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 donethe 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 ina situation to hurt you. Would you show a sullen, pouting, impotentresentment? I hope not; leave that silly, unavailing sort of resentmentto women, and men like them, who are always guided by humor, never byreason and prudence. That pettish, pouting conduct is a great deal tooyoung, and implies too little knowledge of the world, for one who hasseen so much of it as you have. Let this be one invariable rule of yourconduct, --Never to show the least symptom of resentment which you cannotto a certain degree gratify; but always to smile, where you cannotstrike. There would be no living in courts, nor indeed in the world ifone could not conceal, and even dissemble, the just causes of resentment, which one meets with every day in active and busy life. Whoever cannotmaster his humor enough, 'pour faire bonne mine a mauvais jeu', shouldleave the world, and retire to some hermitage, in an unfrequented desert. By showing an unavailing and sullen resentment, you authorize theresentment of those who can hurt you and whom you cannot hurt; and givethem that very pretense, which perhaps they wished for, of breaking with, and injuring you; whereas the contrary behavior would lay them under, therestraints of decency at least; and either shackle or expose theirmalice. Besides, captiousness, sullenness, and pouting are mostexceedingly illiberal and vulgar. 'Un honnete homme ne les connoitpoint'. 

I am extremely glad to hear that you are soon to have Voltaire atManheim: immediately upon his arrival, pray make him a thousandcompliments from me. I admire him most exceedingly; and, whether as anepic, dramatic, or lyric poet, or prose-writer, I think I justly apply tohim the 'Nil molitur inepte'. I long to read his own correct edition of'Les Annales de l'Empire', of which the 'Abrege Chronologique del'Histoire Universelle', which I have read, is, I suppose, a stolen andimperfect part; however, imperfect as it is, it has explained to me thatchaos of history, of seven hundred years more clearly than any other bookhad done before. You judge very rightly that I love 'le style le r etfleuri'. I do, and so does everybody who has any parts and taste. Itshould, 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 notproperly, and which ought not to be adorned, by a certain elegance andbeauty of style. What can be more adorned than Cicero's PhilosophicalWorks? What more than Plato's? It is their eloquence only that haspreserved and transmitted them down to us through so many centuries; forthe philosophy of them is wretched, and the reasoning part miserable. Buteloquence will always please, and has always pleased. Study it therefore;make it the object of your thoughts and attention. Use yourself to relateelegantly; that is a good step toward speaking well in parliament. Takesome political subject, turn it in your thoughts, consider what may besaid both for and against it, then put those arguments into writing, inthe most correct and elegant English you can. For instance, a standingarmy, a place bill, etc. ; as to the former, consider, on one side, thedangers 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, fromcircumstances, become a necessary evil, and preventive of greaterdangers. As to the latter, consider, how far places may bias and warp theconduct of men, from the service of their country, into an unwarrantablecomplaisance to the court; and, on the other hand, consider whether theycan be supposed to have that effect upon the conduct of people of probityand property, who are more solidly interested in the permanent good oftheir country, than they can be in an uncertain and precariousemployment. Seek for, and answer in your own mind, all the arguments thatcan 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, displayedonce or twice in a session, in a set declamation, but I want anevery-day, ready, and habitual eloquence, to adorn extempore and debatingspeeches; to make business not only clear but agreeable, and to pleaseeven 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 littletrouble as it cost you to dance a minuet as well as you do. You now danceit mechanically and well without thinking of it. 

I am surprised that you found but one letter for me at Manheim, for youought to have found four or five; there are as many lying for you at yourbanker's at Berlin, which I wish you had, because I always endeavored toput 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 seriousconversations; 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 notionsof men and things. You will, in time, discover most of them to have beenerroneous; and, if you follow them long, you will perceive your error toolate; but if you will be led by a guide, who, you are sure, does not meanto mislead you, you will unite two things, seldom united, in the sameperson; the vivacity and spirit of youth, with the caution and experienceof age. 

Last Saturday, Sir Thomas Robinson, who had been the King's Minister atVienna, was declared Secretary of State for the southern department, LordHolderness having taken the northern. Sir Thomas accepted it unwillingly, and, as I hear, with a promise that he shall not keep it long. Both hishealth and spirits are bad, two very disqualifying circumstances for thatemployment; yours, I hope, will enable you, some time or other, to gothrough with it. In all events, aim at it, and if you fail or fall, letit 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, fromManheim, with the inclosed for Mr. Eliot; it was a very proper one, and Ihave forwarded it to him by Mr. Harte, who sets out for Cornwall tomorrowmorning. 

I am very glad that you use yourself to translations; and I do not careof what, provided you study the correctness and elegance of your style. The "Life of Sextus Quintus" is the best book of the innumerable bookswritten by Gregorio Leti, whom the Italians, very justly, call 'Leti cacalibro'. But I would rather that you chose some pieces of oratory for yourtranslations, whether ancient or modern, Latin or French, which wouldgive you a more oratorical train of thoughts and turn of expression. Inyour letter to me you make use of two words, which though true andcorrect English, are, however, from long disuse, become inelegant, andseem now to be stiff, formal, and in some degree scriptural; the first isthe word NAMELY, which you introduce thus, YOU INFORM ME OF A VERYAGREEABLE PIECE OF NEWS, namely, THAT MY ELECTION IS SECURED. Instead ofNAMELY, I would always use WHICH IS, or THAT IS, that my-election issecured. The other word is, MINE OWN INCLINATIONS: this is certainlycorrect before a subsequent word that begins with a vowel; but it is toocorrect, and is now disused as too formal, notwithstanding the hiatusoccasioned by MY OWN. Every language has its peculiarities; they areestablished by usage, and whether right or wrong, they must be compliedwith. I could instance many very absurd ones in different languages; butso authorized by the 'jus et norma loquendi', that they must be submittedto. NAMELY, and TO WIT, are very good words in themselves, and contributeto clearness more than the relatives which we now substitute in theirroom; but, however, they cannot be used, except in a sermon or some verygrave and formal compositions. It is with language as with manners theyare both established by the usage of people of fashion; it must beimitated, it must be complied with. Singularity is only pardonable in oldage and retirement; I may now be as singular as I please, but you maynot. We will, when we meet, discuss these and many other points, providedyou will give me attention and credit; without both which it is to nopurpose to advise either you or anybody else. 

I want to know your determination, where you intend to (if I may use thatexpression) WHILE away your time till the last week in June, when we areto meet at Spa; I continue rather in the opinion which I mentioned to youformerly, in favor of The Hague; but however, I have not the leastobjection to Dresden, or to any other place that you may like better. Ifyou prefer the Dutch scheme, you take Treves and Coblentz in your way, asalso Dusseldorp: all which places I think you have not yet seen. AtManheim you may certainly get good letters of recommendation to thecourts of the two Electors of Treves and Cologne, whom you are yetunacquainted with; and I should wish you to know them all; for, as I haveoften told you, 'olim haec meminisse juvabit'. There is an utility inhaving seen what other people have seen, and there is a justifiable pridein having seen what others have not seen. In the former case, you areequal to others; in the latter, superior. As your stay abroad will notnow be very long, pray, while it lasts, see everything and everybody youcan, and see them well, with care and attention. It is not to beconceived of what advantage it is to anybody to have seen more things, people, and countries, than other people in general have; it gives them acredit, makes them referred to, and they become the objects of theattention of the company. They are not out in any part of politeconversation; they are acquainted with all the places, customs, courts, and families that are likely to be mentioned; they are, as Monsieur deMaupertuis justly observes, 'de tous les pays, comme les savans, sont detous les tems'. You have, fortunately, both those advantages: the onlyremaining point is 'de savoir les faire valoir', for without that one mayas 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 ofthe world will teach you to what degree you ought to show 'que vousvalez'. 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 anoverbearing manner, but, of the two, it is better to show too much thantoo little. Adieu. 

LETTER CCII

BATH, November 27, 1754

MY DEAR FRIEND: I heartily congratulate you upon the loss of yourpolitical maidenhead, of which I have received from others a very goodaccount. I hear that you were stopped for some time in your career; butrecovered breath, and finished it very well. I am not surprised, norindeed concerned, at your accident; for I remember the dreadful feelingof that situation in myself; and as it must require a most uncommon shareof impudence to be unconcerned upon such an occasion, I am not sure thatI am not rather glad you stopped. You must therefore now think ofhardening yourself by degrees, by using yourself insensibly to the soundof your own voice, and to the act (trifling as it seems) of rising up andsitting down. Nothing will contribute so much to this as committee workof elections at night, and of private bills in the morning. There, askingshort questions, moving for witnesses to be called in, and all that kindof small ware, will soon fit you to set up for yourself. I am told thatyou are much mortified at your accident, but without reason; pray, let itrather be a spur than a curb to you. Persevere, and, depend upon it, itwill do well at last. When I say persevere, I do not mean that you shouldspeak every day, nor in every debate. Moreover, I would not advise you tospeak again upon public matters for some time, perhaps a month or two;but I mean, never lose view of that great object; pursue it withdiscretion, but pursue it always. 'Pelotez en attendant partie'. You knowI have always told you that speaking in public was but a knack, whichthose who apply to the most will succeed in the best. Two old members, very good judges, have sent me compliments upon this occasion; and haveassured me that they plainly find it will do; though they perceived, fromthat natural confusion you were in, that you neither said all, norperhaps 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 itis only knowledge and experience that can make a debater. But if youstill want comfort, Mrs. -------I hope, will administer it to you; for, inmy opinion she may, if she will, be very comfortable; and with women, aswith speaking in parliament, perseverance will most certainly prevailsooner or later. 

What little I have played for here, I have won; but that is very far fromthe considerable sum which you heard of. I play every evening, from seventill ten, at a crown whist party, merely to save my eyes from reading orwriting for three hours by candle-light. I propose being in town the weekafter next, and hope to carry back with me much more health than Ibrought down here. Good-night. 

[Mr. Stanhope being returned to England, and seeing his father almostevery day, is the occasion of an interruption of two years in theircorrespondence. ]

 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 thePrussian, papers, which I have read with great attention. If courts couldblush, those of Vienna and Dresden ought, to have their falsehoods sopublicly, and so undeniably exposed. The former will, I presume, nextyear, employ an hundred thousand men, to answer the accusation; and ifthe Empress of the two Russias is pleased to argue in the same cogentmanner, their logic will be too strong for all the King of Prussia'srhetoric. I well remember the treaty so often referred to in thosepieces, between the two Empresses, in 1746. The King was strongly pressedby the Empress Queen to accede to it. Wassenaer communicated it to me forthat purpose. I asked him if there were no secret articles; suspectingthat 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 twoEmpresses, I did not see of what use his accession to this treaty, ifmerely a defensive one, could be, either to himself or the othercontracting parties; but that, however, if it was only desired as anindication of the King's good will, I would give him an act by which hisMajesty should accede to that treaty, as far, but no further, as atpresent he stood engaged to the respective Empresses by the defensivealliances subsisting with each. This offer by no means satisfied him;which was a plain proof of the secret articles now brought to light, andinto which the court of Vienna hoped to draw us. I told Wassenaer so, andafter that I heard no more of his invitation. 

I am still bewildered in the changes at Court, of which I find that allthe particulars are not yet fixed. Who would have thought, a year ago, that Mr. Fox, the Chancellor, and the Duke of Newcastle, should all threehave quitted together? Nor can I yet account for it; explain it to me ifyou can. I cannot see, neither, what the Duke of Devonshire and Fox, whomI looked upon as intimately united, can have quarreled about, withrelation to the Treasury; inform me, if you know. I never doubted of theprudent versatility of your Vicar of Bray: But I am surprised at O'BrienWindham's going out of the Treasury, where I should have thought that theinterest of his brother-in-law, George Grenville, would have kept him. 

Having found myself rather worse, these two or three last days, I wasobliged to take some ipecacuanha last night; and, what you will thinkodd, for a vomit, I brought it all up again in about an hour, to my greatsatisfaction and emolument, which is seldom the case in restitutions. 

You did well to go to the Duke of Newcastle, who, I suppose, will have nomore levees; however, go from time to time, and leave your name at hisdoor, 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 ISSTILL BUT AS THE FIRST, though by no means so agreeably passed, asAnthony describes his to have been? The same nothings succeed one anotherevery 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? Cutoff from society by my deafness, and dispirited by my ill health, wherecould I be better? You will say, perhaps, where could you be worse? Onlyin prison, or the galleys, I confess. However, I see a period to my stayhere; 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 amequally a stranger, but merely to be at home; which, after all, accordingto the vulgar saying, is home, be it ever so homely. 

The political settlement, as it is called, is, I find, by no meanssettled; Mr. Fox, who took this place in his way to his brother's, wherehe intended to pass a month, was stopped short by an express, which hereceived from his connection, to come to town immediately; andaccordingly he set out from hence very early, two days ago. I had a verylong conversation with him, in which he was, seemingly at least, veryfrank and communicative; but still I own myself in the dark. In thosematters, as in most others, half knowledge (and mine is at most that) ismore apt to lead one into error, than to carry one to truth; and our ownvanity contributes to the seduction. Our conjectures pass upon us fortruths; 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 wouldbe a fortunate event indeed for the King of Prussia, and necessarilyproduce the neutrality and inaction, at least, of that great power; whichwould be a heavy weight taken out of the opposite scale to the King ofPrussia. The 'Augustissima' must, in that case, do all herself; forthough France will, no doubt, promise largely, it will, I believe, perform but scantily; as it desires no better than that the differentpowers of Germany should tear one another to pieces. 

I hope you frequent all the courts: a man should make his face familiarthere. Long habit produces favor insensibly; and acquaintance often doesmore than friendship, in that climate where 'les beaux sentimens' are notthe natural growth. 

Adieu! I am going to the ball, to save my eyes from reading, and my mindfrom thinking. 

LETTERS TO HIS SON

LETTER CCV

BATH, January 12, 1757

MY DEAR FRIEND: I waited quietly, to see when either your leisure, oryour inclinations, would al low you to honor me with a letter; and atlast I received one this morning, very near a fortnight after you wentfrom hence. You will say, that you had no news to write me; and thatprobably may be true; but, without news, one has always something to sayto those with whom one desires to have anything to do. 

Your observation is very just with regard to the King of Prussia, whomthe most august House of Austria would most unquestionably have poisoneda century or two ago. But now that 'terras Astraea reliquit', kings andprinces die of natural deaths; even war is pusillanimously carried on inthis degenerate age; quarter is given; towns are taken, and the peoplespared: even in a storm, a woman can hardly hope for the benefit of arape. Whereas (such was the humanity of former days) prisoners werekilled by thousands in cold blood, and the generous victors sparedneither man, woman, nor child. Heroic actions of this kind were performedat the taking of Magdebourg. The King of Prussia is certainly now in asituation 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 Ibelieve many a Prussian colonel would out-general him. But Brown, Piccolomini, Lucchese, and many other veteran officers in the Austriantroops, are respectable enemies. 

Mr. Pitt seems to me to have almost as many enemies to encounter as hisPrussian Majesty. The late Ministry, and the Duke's party, will, Ipresume, unite against him and his Tory friends; and then quarrel amongthemselves again. His best, if not his only chance of supporting himselfwould be, if he had credit enough in the city, to hinder the advancing ofthe money to any administration but his own; and I have met with somepeople here who think that he has. 

I have put off my journey from hence for a week, but no longer. I find Istill gain some strength and some flesh here, and therefore I will notcut while the run is for me. 

By a letter which I received this morning from Lady Allen, I observe thatyou are extremely well with her; and it is well for you to be so, for sheis an excellent and warm puff. 

'A propos' (an expression which is commonly used to introduce whatever isunrelative 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; andthe sooner you have them the better. I do not mean them as models foryour manner of writing, but as outlines of the matter you are to writeupon. 

If you have not read Hume's "Essays" read them; they are four very smallvolumes; I have just finished, and am extremely pleased with them. Hethinks 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 meall 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 toyou 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, butthree days ago, to Monsieur Munchausen, HE (meaning you) SETS OUT VERYWELL, AND I LIKE HIS LETTERS; PROVIDED THAT, LIKE MOST OF MY ENGLISHMINISTERS ABROAD, HE DOES NOT GROW IDLE HEREAFTER. So that here is bothpraise to flatter, and a hint to warn you. What Lord Holdernessrecommends to you, being by the King's order, intimates also a degree ofapprobation; for the BLACKER INK, AND THE LARGER CHARACTER, show, thathis Majesty, whose eyes are grown weaker, intends to read all yourletters himself. Therefore, pray do not neglect to get the blackest inkyou 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 init, I could not have wished you either better than both have hithertoproved. The rest will depend entirely upon yourself; and I own I begin tohave much better hopes than I had; for I know, by my own experience, thatthe more one works, the more willing one is to work. We are all, more orless, 'des animaux d'habitude'. I remember very well, that when I was inbusiness, I wrote four or five hours together every day, more willinglythan I should now half an hour; and this is most certain, that when a manhas applied himself to business half the day, the other half, goes offthe more cheerfully and agreeably. This I found so sensibly, when I wasat The Hague, that I never tasted company so well nor was so good companymyself, as at the suppers of my post days. I take Hamburg now to be 'lecentre du refuge Allemand'. If you have any Hanover 'refugies' amongthem, pray take care to be particularly attentive to them. How do youlike your house? Is it a convenient one? Have the 'Casserolles' beenemployed in it yet? You will find 'les petits soupers fins' lessexpensive, and turn to better account, than large dinners for greatcompanies. 

I hope you have written to the Duke of Newcastle; I take it for grantedthat you have to all your brother ministers of the northern department. For God's sake be diligent, alert, active, and indefatigable in yourbusiness. 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 universallysupposed to be the object of our great expedition. A great and importantobject it is. I suppose the affair must be brusque, or it will not do. Ifwe succeed, it will make France put some water to its wine. As for my ownprivate opinion, I own I rather wish than hope success. However, shouldour expedition fail, 'Magnis tamen excidit ausis', and that will bebetter than our late languid manner of making war. 

To mention a person to you whom I am very indifferent about, I meanmyself, I vegetate still just as I did when we parted; but I think Ibegin to be sensible of the autumn of the year; as well as of the autumnof my own life. I feel an internal awkwardness, which, in about threeweeks, 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, fromtime to time, of your industry and diligence; for in that case I shouldconsequently hear of your success. Remember your own motto, 'Nullum numenabest 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 ofthe 3d, from the headquarters at Selsingen; and, by the way, it is butthe 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 theeffect; for I would have you, as much as possible, see everything that isto be seen. That is the true useful knowledge, which informs and improvesus when we are young, and amuses us and others when we are old; 'Olimhaec meminisse juvabit'. I could wish that you would (but I know you willnot) 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 withpeople's names, and Latin sentences; but I mean such a book, as, if youdo not keep now, thirty years hence you would give a great deal of moneyto 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 doubtsabout it. The neutrality which he has concluded with Marechal deRichelieu, will prevent that bloody battle which you expected; but whatthe King of Prussia will say to it is another point. He was our onlyally; at present, probably we have not one in the world. If the King ofPrussia can get at Monsieur de Soubize's, and the Imperial army, beforeother 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'. Thelate action between the Prussians and Russians has only thinned the humanspecies, without giving either party a victory; which is plain by eachparty's claiming it. Upon my word, our species will pay very dear for thequarrels and ambition of a few, and those by no means the most valuablepart of it. If the many were wiser than they are, the few must bequieter, 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 mustnecessarily 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 constraintof ceremony; a thing which you do not love, but which is, however, veryuseful. 

I desired you in my last, and I repeat it again in this, to give me anaccount of your private and domestic life. 

How do you pass your evenings? Have they, at Hamburg, what are called atParis 'des Maisons', where one goes without ceremony, sups or not, as onepleases? Are you adopted in any society? Have you any rational brotherministers, and which? What sort of things are your operas? In the tender, I doubt they do not excel; for 'mein lieber schatz', and the othertendernesses of the Teutonic language, would, in my mind, sound butindifferently, set to soft music; for the bravura parts, I have a greatopinion of them; and 'das, der donner dich erschlage', must no doubt, make a tremendously fine piece of 'recitativo', when uttered by an angryhero, to the rumble of a whole orchestra, including drums, trumpets, andFrench horns. Tell me your whole allotment of the day, in which I hopefour hours, at least, are sacred to writing; the others cannot be betteremployed than in LIBERAL pleasures. In short, give me a full account ofyourself, in your un-ministerial character, your incognito, without your'fiocchi'. I love to see those, in whom I interest myself, in theirundress, rather than in gala; I know them better so. I recommend to you, 'etiam atque etiam', method and order in everything you undertake. Do youobserve it in your accounts? If you do not, you will be a beggar, thoughyou were to receive the appointments of a Spanish Ambassadorextraordinary, which are a thousand pistoles a month; and in yourministerial business, if you have no regular and stated hours for suchand such parts of it, you will be in the hurry and confusion of the Dukeof N-----, doing everything by halves, and nothing well, nor soon. Isuppose 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 itis said that he had above that number, and might consequently have actedoffensively, instead of retreating; especially as his retreat wascontrary to the unanimous opinion (as it is now said) of the council ofwar. In our Ministry, I suppose, things go pretty quietly, for the D. OfN. Has not plagued me these two months. When his Royal Highness comesover, which I take it for granted he will do very soon, the great pushwill, I presume, be made at his Grace and Mr. Pitt; but without effect ifthey agree, as it is visibly their interest to do; and, in that case, their parliamentary strength will support them against all attacks. Youmay remember, I said at first, that the popularity would soon be on theside of those who opposed the popular Militia Bill; and now it appears sowith a vengeance, in almost every county in England, by the tumults andinsurrections of the people, who swear that they will not be enlisted. That silly scheme must therefore be dropped, as quietly as may be. Nowthat I have told you all that I know, and almost all that I think, I wishyou 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 canfind 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 timeone finds to do it in. One yawns, one procrastinates, one can do it whenone will, and therefore one seldom does it at all; whereas those who havea 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 ownexperience has by this time convinced you of this truth. 

I received your last of the 8th. It is now quite over with a very greatman, 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 thesemisfortunes; and if reduced, as perhaps he may, to the 'marche' ofBrandenburg, he will always find in himself the comfort, and with all theworld the credit, of a philosopher, a legislator, a patron, and aprofessor of arts and sciences. He will only lose the fame of aconqueror; a cruel fame, that arises from the destruction of the humanspecies. 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 wholenation being enraged at that neutrality which hastens and completes hisruin. 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 allthat had happened before. Indeed it seems to me a voluntary concession ofthe very worst that could have happened in the worst event. We now beginto think that our great and secret expedition is intended for Martinicoand St. Domingo; if that be true, and we succeed in the attempt, we shallrecover, and the French lose, one of the most valuable branches ofcommerce--I mean sugar. The French now supply all the foreign markets inEurope with that commodity; we only supply ourselves with it. This wouldmake us some amends for our ill luck, or ill conduct in North America;where Lord Loudon, with twelve thousand men, thought himself no match forthe French with but seven; and Admiral Holborne, with seventeen ships ofthe line, declined attacking the French, because they had eighteen, and agreater weight of METAL, according to the new sea-phrase, which wasunknown to Blake. I hear that letters have been sent to both with verysevere reprimands. I am told, and I believe it is true, that we arenegotiating with the Corsican, I will not say rebels, but asserters oftheir natural rights; to receive them, and whatever form of governmentthey think fit to establish, under our protection, upon condition oftheir delivering up to us Port Ajaccio; which may be made so strong andso 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 aparcel of cruel and perfidious rascals, they will in this case be tieddown to us by their own interest and their own danger; a solid securitywith knaves, though none with fools. His Royal Highness the Duke ishourly expected here: his arrival will make some bustle; for I believe itis certain that he is resolved to make a push at the Duke of N. , Pitt andCo. ; but it will be ineffectual, if they continue to agree, as, to myCERTAIN 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 publicmatters, let us talk of private ones that more nearly and immediatelyconcern us. Admit me to your fire-side, in your little room; and as youwould converse with me there, write to me for the future from thence. Areyou completely 'nippe' yet? Have you formed what the world callsconnections? that is, a certain number of acquaintances whom, fromaccident or choice, you frequent more than others: Have you either fineor well-bred women there? 'Y a-t-il quelque bon ton'? All fat and fair, Ipresume; 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 hommeavec des manieres'. 

Mr. ------is to be married, in about a month, to Miss------. I am veryglad of it; for, as he will never be a man of the world, but will alwayslead a domestic and retired life, she seems to have been made on purposefor him. Her natural turn is as grave and domestic as his; and she seemsto have been kept by her aunts 'a la grace', instead of being raised in ahot bed, as most young ladies are of late. If, three weeks hence, youwrite him a short compliment of congratulation upon the occasion, he, hismother, and 'tutti quanti', would be extremely pleased with it. Thoseattentions are always kindly taken, and cost one nothing but pen, ink, and paper. I consider them as draughts upon good-breeding, where theexchange is always greatly in favor of the drawer. 'A propos' ofexchange; I hope you have, with the help of your secretary, made yourselfcorrectly master of all that sort of knowledge--Course of Exchange, 'Agie, Banco, Reiche-Thalers', down to 'Marien Groschen'. It is verylittle 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 thismoment of leisure from my extreme idleness, to inform you of the presentlamentable and astonishing state of affairs here, which you would knowbut imperfectly from the public papers, and but partially from yourprivate correspondents. 'Or sus' then--Our in vincible Armada, which costat least half a million, sailed, as you know, some weeks ago; the objectkept 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 leastresistance, seven hundred men made prisoners, and some pieces of cannoncarried off. From thence we sailed toward Rochfort, which it seems wasour main object; and consequently one should have supposed that we hadpilots on board who knew all the soundings and landing places there andthereabouts: but no; for General M-----t asked the Admiral if he couldland 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? Towhich the Admiral answered, that, like all naval operations, will dependupon the wind. If so, said the General, I'll e'en go home again. ACouncil of War was immediately called, where it was unanimously resolved, that it was ADVISABLE to return; accordingly they are returned. As theexpectations 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 mostprevailing one is, that the tail of the Hanover neutrality, like that ofa comet, extended itself to Rochfort. What encourages this suspicion is, that a French man of war went unmolested through our whole fleet, as itlay near Rochfort. Haddock's whole story is revived; Michel'srepresentations are combined with other circumstances; and the wholetogether makes up a mass of discontent, resentment, and even fury, greater than perhaps was ever known in this country before. These are thefacts, draw your own conclusions from them; for my part, I am lost inastonishment and conjectures, and do not know where to fix. My experiencehas shown me, that many things which seem extremely probable are nottrue: and many which seem highly improbable are true; so that I willconclude this article, as Josephus does almost every article of hishistory, with saying, BUT OF THIS EVERY MAN WILL BELIEVE AS HE THINKSPROPER. What a disgraceful year will this be in the annals of thiscountry! May its good genius, if ever it appears again, tear out thosesheets, thus stained and blotted by our ignominy!

Our domestic affairs are, as far as I know anything of them, in the samesituation as when I wrote to you last; but they will begin to be inmotion upon the approach of the session, and upon the return of the Duke, whose arrival is most impatiently expected by the mob of London; thoughnot to strew flowers in his way. 

I leave this place next Saturday, and London the Saturday following, tobe 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; andI will believe half of what you assure me, that you returned to theLandgrave's civilities. I cannot possibly go farther than half, knowingthat you are not lavish of your words, especially in that species ofeloquence called the adulatory. Do not use too much discretion inprofiting of the Landgrave's naturalization of you; but go pretty oftenand feed with him. Choose the company of your superiors, whenever you canhave it; that is the right and true pride. The mistaken and silly prideis, to PRIMER among inferiors. 

Hear, O Israel! and wonder. On Sunday morning last, the Duke gave up hiscommission of Captain General and his regiment of guards. You will ask mewhy? 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 Kingreproached him with having exceeded his powers in making the HanoverConvention, which his R. H. Absolutely denied, and threw up thereupon. This is certain, that he appeared at the drawing-room at Kensington, lastSunday, after having quitted, and went straight to Windsor; where, hispeople say, that he intends to reside quietly, and amuse himself as aprivate man. But I conjecture that matters will soon be made up again, and that he will resume his employments. You will easily imagine thespeculations this event has occasioned in the public; I shall neithertrouble 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 itis a concerted quarrel, to justify SOMEBODY TO SOMEBODY, with regard tothe Convention; but I do not believe it. 

His R. H. 's people load the Hanover Ministers, and more particularly ourfriend Munchausen here, with the whole blame; but with what degree oftruth I know not. This only is certain, that the whole negotiation ofthat affair was broached and carried on by the Hanover Ministers andMonsieur 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 andMachiavels go deep, suspect the worst, and, perhaps, as they often do, overshoot the mark. For my own part, I fairly confess that I ambewildered, and have not certain 'postulata' enough, not only to foundany opinion, but even to form conjectures upon: and this is the languagewhich I think you should hold to all who speak to you, as to be sure allwill, upon that subject. Plead, as you truly may, your own ignorance; andsay, that it is impossible to judge of those nice points, at such adistance, and without knowing all circumstances, which you cannot besupposed to do. And as to the Duke's resignation; you should, in myopinion, say, that perhaps there might be a little too much vivacity inthe case, but that, upon the whole, you make no doubt of the thing'sbeing soon set right again; as, in truth, I dare say it will. Upon thesedelicate occasions, you must practice the ministerial shrugs and'persiflage'; for silent gesticulations, which you would be most inclinedto, would not be sufficient: something must be said, but that something, when analyzed, must amount to nothing. As for instance, 'Il est vraiqu'on s'y perd, mais que voulez-vous que je vous dise?--il y a bien dupour et du contre; un petit Resident ne voit gueres le fond du sac. --Ilfaut attendre. --Those sort of expletives are of infinite use; and ninepeople in ten think they mean something. But to the Landgrave of Hesse Ithink you would do well to say, in seeming confidence, that you have goodreason to believe that the principal objection of his Majesty to theconvention was that his Highness's interests, and the affair of histroops, were not sufficiently considered in it. To the Prussian Ministerassert boldly that you know 'de science certaine', that the principalobject of his Majesty's and his British Ministry's intention is not onlyto perform all their present engagements with his Master, but to take newand 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 howminutely 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. Ihave consequently drunk these waters but three days, and yet I findmyself something better for them. The night before I left London. I wasfor some hours at Newcastle House, where the letters, which came thatmorning, lay upon the table: and his Grace singled out yours with greatapprobation, and, at the same time, assured me of his Majesty'sapprobation, too. To these two approbations I truly add my own, which, 'sans vanite', may perhaps be near as good as the other two. In thatletter you venture 'vos petits raisonnemens' very properly, and then asproperly make an excuse for doing so. Go on so, with diligence, and youwill be, what I began to despair of your ever being, SOMEBODY. I ampersuaded, if you would own the truth, that you feel yourself now muchbetter satisfied with yourself than you were while you did nothing. 

Application to business, attended with approbation and success, flattersand animates the mind: which, in idleness and inaction, stagnates andputrefies. I could wish that every rational man would, every night whenhe goes to bed, ask himself this question, What have I done to-day? HaveI done anything that can be of use to myself or others? Have I employedmy time, or have I squandered it? Have I lived out the day, or have Idozed it away in sloth and laziness? A thinking being must be pleased orconfounded, according as he can answer himself these questions. I observethat you are in the secret of what is intended, and what Munchausen isgone to Stade to prepare; a bold and dangerous experiment in my mind, andwhich may probably end in a second volume to the "History of thePalatinate, " in the last century. His Serene Highness of Brunswick has, in my mind, played a prudent and saving game; and I am apt to believethat the other Serene Highness, at Hamburg, is more likely to follow hisexample than to embark in the great scheme. 

I see no signs of the Duke's resuming his employments; but on thecontrary I am assured that his Majesty is coolly determined to do as wellas he can without him. The Duke of Devonshire and Fox have worked hard tomake up matters in the closet, but to no purpose. People's self-love isvery apt to make them think themselves more necessary than they are: andI shrewdly suspect, that his Royal Highness has been the dupe of thatsentiment, and was taken at his word when he least suspected it; like mypredecessor, Lord Harrington, who when he went into the closet to resignthe seals, had them not about him: so sure he thought himself of beingpressed to keep them. 

The whole talk of London, of this place, and of every place in the wholekingdom, is of our great, expensive, and yet fruitless expedition; I haveseen an officer who was there, a very sensible and observing man: whotold me that had we attempted Rochfort, the day after we took the islandof 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 attemptwould have been impracticable, because the French had in that time gottogether all the troops in that neighborhood, to a very considerablenumber. In short, there must have been some secret in that whole affairthat has not yet transpired; and I cannot help suspecting that it camefrom Stade. WE had not been successful there; and perhaps WE were notdesirous that an expedition, in which WE had neither been concerned norconsulted, should prove so; M----t was OUR creature, and a word to thewise 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, isthe great scene of pleasures at Hamburg? His mistress, I take forgranted, 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 moutardeapres diner'. I am curious to see what tyrant will succeed her, not bydivine, but by military right; for, barbarous as they are now, and stillmore barbarous as they have been formerly, they have had very littleregard to the more barbarous notion of divine, indefeasible, hereditaryright. 

The Praetorian bands, that is, the guards, I presume, have been engagedin the interests of the Imperial Prince; but still I think that littleJohn of Archangel will be heard upon this occasion, unless prevented by aquieting draught of hemlock or nightshade; for I suppose they are notarrived to the politer and genteeler poisons of Acqua Tufana, --[AcquaTufana, a Neapolitan slow poison, resembling clear water, and invented bya woman at Naples, of the name of Tufana. ]--sugar-plums, etc. 

Lord Halifax has accepted his old employment, with the honorary additionof 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 theirparent's shame as well as they can; for to retrieve its honor is now toolate. One would really think that our ministers and generals were all asdrunk as the Patriarch was. However, in your situation, you must not beCham; 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, thepublic agree with him. There will certainly be one, but of what kind isnot yet fixed. Some are for a parliamentary inquiry, others for a martialone; neither will, in my opinion, discover the true secret; for a secretthere most unquestionably is. Why we stayed six whole days in the islandof Aix, mortal cannot imagine; which time the French employed, as it wasobvious they would, in assembling their troops in the neighborhood ofRochfort, and making our attempt then really impracticable. The day afterwe had taken the island of Aix, your friend, Colonel Wolf, publiclyoffered to do the business with five hundred men and three ships only. Inall these complicated political machines there are so many wheels, thatit is always difficult, and sometimes im possible, to guess which of themgives direction to the whole. Mr. Pitt is convinced that the principalwheels, or, if you will, the spoke in his wheel, came from Stade. This iscertain, 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 itonly from curiosity: but the majority on the side of the Court will, Idare say, be a great one. The people of the late Captain-general, howeverinclined to oppose, will be obliged to concur. Their commissions, whichthey have no desire to lose, will make them tractable; for thosegentlemen, though all men of honor, are of Sosia's mind, 'que le vraiAmphitrion est celui ou l'on dine'. The Tories and the city have engagedto support Pitt; the Whigs, the Duke of Newcastle; the independent andthe impartial, as you well know, are not worth mentioning. It is saidthat the Duke intends to bring the affair of his Convention intoparliament, for his own justification; I can hardly believe it; as Icannot conceive that transactions so merely electoral can be properobjects of inquiry or deliberation for a British parliament; and, therefore, should such a motion be made, I presume it will be immediatelyquashed. By the commission lately given to Sir John Ligonier, of Generaland Commander-in-chief of all his Majesty's forces in Great Britain, thedoor seems to be not only shut, but bolted, against his Royal Highness'sreturn; and I have good reason to be convinced that that breach isirreparable. The reports of changes in the Ministry, I am pretty sure, are idle and groundless. The Duke of Newcastle and Mr. Pitt really agreevery well; not, I presume, from any sentimental tenderness for eachother, but from a sense that it is their mutual interest: and, as thelate Captain-general's party is now out of the question, I do not seewhat should produce the least change. 

The visit made lately to Berlin was, I dare say, neither a friendly noran inoffensive one. The Austrians always leave behind them pretty lastingmonuments 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 oranother; a bad one for us, no doubt, and yet perhaps better than weshould get the year after. I suppose the King of Prussia is negotiatingwith France, and endeavoring by those means to get out of the scrape withthe loss only of Silesia, and perhaps Halberstadt, by way ofindemnification to Saxony; and, considering all circumstances, he wouldbe well off upon those terms. But then how is Sweden to be satisfied?Will the Russians restore Memel? Will France have been at all thisexpense 'gratis'? Must there be no acquisition for them in Flanders? Idare say they have stipulated something of that sort for themselves, bythe additional and secret treaty, which I know they made, last May, withthe Queen of Hungary. Must we give up whatever the French please todesire in America, besides the cession of Minorca in perpetuity? I fearwe must, or else raise twelve millions more next year, to as littlepurpose as we did this, and have consequently a worse peace afterward. Iturn 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 domyself 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 (asCicero says of Crassus) 'mors donata quam vita erepta'. 

I have often desired, but in vain, the favor of being admitted into yourprivate apartment at, Hamburg, and of being informed of your private lifethere. Your mornings, I hope and believe, are employed in business; butgive me an account of the remainder of the day, which I suppose is, andought to be, appropriated to amusements and pleasures. In what houses areyou domestic? Who are so in yours? In short, let me in, and do not bedenied to me. 

Here I am, as usual, seeing few people, and hearing fewer; drinking thewaters regularly to a minute, and am something the better for them. Iread a great deal, and vary occasionally my dead company. I converse withgrave folios in the morning, while my head is clearest and my attentionstrongest: I take up less severe quartos after dinner; and at night Ichoose 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 Imitigate, as much as I can, my physical ills by diverting my attention toother 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; butI believe it has suffered. This would fill up the measure of ourmisfortunes. Adieu. 

LETTER CCXIII

BATH, November 20, 1757

MY DEAR FRIEND: I write to you now, because I love to write to you; andhope that my letters are welcome to you; for otherwise I have very littleto inform you of. The King of Prussia's late victory you are betterinformed, of than we are here. It has given infinite joy to theunthinking public, who are not aware that it comes too late in the yearand 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 werea 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 ofPrussia, to whom I wish well as a man, more than as a king. And surely heis so great a man, that had he lived seventeen or eighteen hundred yearsago, and his life been transmitted to us in a language that we could notvery well understand--I mean either Greek or Latin--we should have talkedof him as we do now of your Alexanders, your Caesars, and others; withwhom, I believe, we have but a very slight acquaintance. 'Au reste', I donot see that his affairs are much mended by this victory. The samecombination of the great Powers of Europe against him still subsists, andmust at last prevail. I believe the French army will melt away, as isusual, in Germany; but this army is extremely diminished by battles, fatigues, and desertion: and he will find great difficulties inrecruiting it from his own already exhausted dominions. He musttherefore, and to be sure will, negotiate privately with the French, andget better terms that way than he could any other. 

The report of the three general officers, the Duke of Marlborough, LordGeorge Sackville, and General Waldegrave, was laid before the King lastSaturday, after their having sat four days upon M----t's affair: nobodyyet knows what it is; but it is generally believed that M----t will bebrought to a court-martial. That you may not mistake this matter, as MOSTpeople here do, I must explain to you, that this examination before thethree above-mentioned general officers, was by no means a trial; but onlya previous inquiry into his conduct, to see whether there was, or wasnot, cause to bring him to a regular trial before a court-martial. Thecase is exactly parallel to that of a grand jury; who, upon a previousand general examination, find, or do not find, a bill to bring the matterbefore 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 expeditionwas to be defeated; and nothing that can appear before a court-martialcan make me alter that opinion. I have been too long acquainted withhuman nature to have great regard for human testimony; and a very greatdegree of probability, supported by various concurrent circumstances, conspiring in one point, will have much greater weight with me, thanhuman testimony upon oath, or even upon honor; both which I havefrequently seen considerably warped by private views. 

The parliament, which now stands prorogued to the first of next month, itis thought will be put off for some time longer, till we know in whatlight to lay before it the state of our alliance with Prussia, since theconclusion of the Hanover neutrality; which, if it did not quite breakit, made at least a great flaw in it. 

The birth-day was neither fine nor crowded; and no wonder, since the Kingwas that day seventy-five. The old Court and the young one are muchbetter together since the Duke's retirement; and the King has presentedthe Prince of Wales with a service of plate. 

I am still UNWELL, though I drink these waters very regularly. I willstay here at least six weeks longer; where I am much quieter than Ishould be allowed to be in town. When things are in such a miserablesituation as they are at present, I desire neither to be concerned norconsulted, still less quoted. Adieu!

LETTER CCXIV

BATH, November 26, 1757

MY DEAR FRIEND: I received by the last mail your short account of theKing of Prussia's victory; which victory, contrary to custom, turns outmore complete than it was at first reported to be. This appears by anintercepted letter from Monsieur de St. Germain to Monsieur d'Affry, atThe Hague, in which he tells him, 'Cette arme est entierement fondue', and lays the blame, very strongly, upon Monsieur de Soubize. But, be itgreater or be it less, I am glad of it; because the King of Prussia (whomI honor and almost adore) I am sure is. Though 'd'ailleurs', between youand me, 'ou est-ce que cela mene'? To nothing, while that formidableunion of three great Powers of Europe subsists against him, could that beany way broken, something might be done; without which nothing can. Itake it for granted that the King of Prussia will do all he can to detachFrance. Why should not we, on our part, try to detach Russia? At least, in our present distress, 'omnia tentanda', and sometimes a lucky andunexpected hit turns up. This thought came into my head this morning; andI 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 nearexpired. The former probably cannot, and perhaps the latter will not, renew them. The Court of Petersburg is beggarly, profuse, greedy, and byno 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 newturn to the affairs of that part of the world at least. And if we bidhandsomely, I do not believe the 'bonne foi' of that Court would stand inthe way. Both our Court and our parliament would, I am very sure, give avery 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 thissubject? You may ask him, What, does your Court intend to go on next yearin the pay of France, to destroy the liberties of all Europe, and throwuniversal monarchy into the hands of that already great and alwaysambitious Power? I know you think, or at least call yourselves, theallies of the Empress Queen; but is it not plain that she will be, in thefirst place, and you in the next, the dupes of France? At this very timeyou are doing the work of France and Sweden: and that for some miserablesubsidies, much inferior to those which I am sure you might have, in abetter cause, and more consistent with the true interest of Russia. Though not empowered, I know the manner of thinking of my own Court sowell upon this subject, that I will venture to promise you much betterterms than those you have now, without the least apprehensions of beingdisavowed. Should he listen to this, and what more may occur to you tosay 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 writean exact relation of it to your own Court. Tell them that you thought themeasure of such great importance, that you could not help taking thislittle step toward bringing it about; but that you mentioned it only asfrom 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 thepresent situation of affairs, and particularly of the King's Electoraldominions, you are very sure that his Majesty would have 'unereconnoissance sans bornes' for ALL those by whose means so desirable arevival of an old and long friendship should be brought about. You willperhaps tell me that, without doubt, Mr. Keith's instructions are to thesame effect: but I will answer you, that you can, IF YOU PLEASE, do itbetter than Mr. Keith; and in the next place that, be all that as itwill, it must be very advantageous to you at home, to show that you haveat least a contriving head, and an alertness in business. 

I had a letter by the last post, from the Duke of Newcastle, in which hecongratulates me, in his own name and in Lord Hardwicke's, upon theapprobation which your dispatches give, not only to them two, but toOTHERS. This success, so early, should encourage your diligence and rouseyour 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 generalofficers, appointed to examine previously into the conduct of GeneralM----t; it is ill written, and ill spelled, but no matter; you willdecipher it. You will observe, by the tenor of it, that it pointsstrongly 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 dosuppose there will be breaking, etc. 

I have had some severe returns of my old complaints last week, and amstill unwell; I cannot help it. 

A friend of yours arrived here three days ago; she seems to me to be aserviceable strong-bodied bay mare, with black mane and tail; you easilyguess 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, withthe inclosed papers. I cannot help observing that, till then, you neveracknowledged the receipt of any one of my letters. 

I can easily conceive that party spirit, among your brother ministers atHamburg, runs as high as you represent it, because I can easily believethe errors of the human mind; but at the same time I must observe, thatsuch a spirit is the spirit of little minds and subaltern ministers, whothink to atone by zeal for their want of merit and importance. Thepolitical differences of the several courts should never influence thepersonal behavior of their several ministers toward one another. There isa certain 'procede noble et galant', which should always be observedamong the ministers of powers even at war with each other, which willalways turn out to the advantage of the ablest, who will in thoseconversations find, or make, opportunities of throwing out, or ofreceiving useful hints. When I was last at The Hague, we were at war withboth 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 atthird places, where we embraced as personal friends, and trifled, at thesame time, upon our being political enemies; and by this sort of badinageI discovered some things which I wanted to know. There is not a moreprudent maxim than to live with one's enemies as if they may one daybecome one's friends; as it commonly happens, sooner or later, in thevicissitudes of political affairs. 

To your question, which is a rational and prudent one, Whether I wasauthorized to give you the hints concerning Russia by any people in powerhere, I will tell you that I was not: but, as I had pressed them to trywhat might be done with Russia, and got Mr. Keith to be dispatched theresome months sooner than otherwise, I dare say he would, with the properinstructions 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 youare at liberty to go, while Russia has a Minister in London, and we aMinister at Petersburg), is, in my opinion, to say to him, in an easycheerful manner, 'He bien, Monsieur, je me flatte que nous serons bientotamis publics, aussi bien qu'amis personels'. To which he will probablyask, Why, or how? You will reply, Because you know that Mr. Keith is goneto his Court with instructions, which you think must necessarily beagreeable there. And throw out to him that nothing but a change of theirpresent system can save Livonia to Russia; for that he cannot supposethat, when the Swedes shall have recovered Pomerania they will long leaveRussia in quiet possession of Livonia. 

If he is so much a Frenchman as you say, he will make you some weakanswers to this; but, as you will have the better of the argument on yourside, you may remind him of the old and almost uninterrupted connectionbetween France and Sweden, the inveterate enemy of Russia. Many otherarguments will naturally occur to you in such a conversation, if you haveit. In this case, there is a piece of ministerial art, which is sometimesof use; and that is, to sow jealousies among one's enemies, by a seemingpreference shown to some one of them. Monsieur Hecht's reveries arereveries indeed. How should his Master have made the GOLDEN ARRANGEMENTSwhich he talks of, and which are to be forged into shackles for GeneralFermor? The Prussian finances are not in a condition now to make suchexpensive arrangements. But I think you may tell Monsieur Hecht, inconfidence, that you hope the instructions with which you know that Mr. Keith is gone to Petersburg, may have some effect upon the measures ofthat Court. 

I would advise you to live with that same Monsieur Hecht in all theconfidence, familiarity, and connection, which prudence will allow. Imean it with regard to the King of Prussia himself, by whom I could wishyou to be known and esteemed as much as possible. It may be of use to yousome day or other. If man, courage, conduct, constancy, can get thebetter of all the difficulties which the King of Prussia has to strugglewith, he will rise superior to them. But still, while his alliancesubsists against him, I dread 'les gros escadrons'. His last victory, ofthe 5th, was certainly the completest that has been heard of these manyyears. I heartily wish the Prince of Brunswick just such a one overMonsieur de Richelieu's army; and that he may take my old acquaintancethe Marechal, and send him over here to polish and perfume us. 

I heartily wish you, in the plain, home-spun style, a great number ofhappy new years, well employed in forming both your mind and yourmanners, to be useful and agreeable to yourself, your country, and yourfriends! That these wishes are sincere, your secretary's brother will, bythe 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 13thand 17th past; and yesterday that of the 27th, with the Russian manifestoinclosed, in which her Imperial Majesty of all the Russias has beenpleased to give every reason, except the true one, for the march of hertroops against the King of Prussia. The true one, I take it to be, thatshe has just received a very great sum of money from France, or theEmpress queen, or both, for that purpose. 'Point d'argent, point deRusse', is now become a maxim. Whatever may be the motive of their march, the effects must be bad; and, according to my speculations, those troopswill replace the French in Hanover and Lower Saxony; and the French willgo and join the Austrian army. You ask me if I still despond? Not so muchas I did after the battle of Colen: the battles of Rosbach and Lissa weredrams to me, and gave me some momentary spirts: but though I do notabsolutely despair, I own I greatly distrust. I readily allow the King ofPrussia to be 'nec pluribus impar'; but still, when the 'plures' amountto a certain degree of plurality, courage and abilities must yield atlast. Michel here assures me that he does not mind the Russians; but, asI have it from the gentleman's own mouth, I do not believe him. We shallvery soon send a squadron to the Baltic to entertain the Swedes; which Ibelieve will put an end to their operations in Pomerania; so that I haveno great apprehensions from that quarter; but Russia, I confess, sticksin my stomach. 

Everything goes smoothly in parliament; the King of Prussia has unitedall our parties in his support; and the Tories have declared that theywill give Mr. Pitt unlimited credit for this session; there has not beenone single division yet upon public points, and I believe will not. OurAmerican expedition is preparing to go soon; the dis position of thataffair seems to me a little extraordinary. Abercrombie is to be thesedantary, and not the acting commander; Amherst, Lord Howe, and Wolfe, are to be the acting, and I hope the active officers. I wish they mayagree. Amherst, who is the oldest officer, is under the influence of thesame great person who influenced Mordaunt, so much to honor and advantageof this country. This is most certain, that we have force enough inAmerica to eat up the French alive in Canada, Quebec, and Louisburg, ifwe have but skill and spirit enough to exert it properly; but of that Iam modest enough to doubt. 

When you come to the egotism, which I have long desired you to come towith me, you need make no excuses for it. The egotism is as proper and assatisfactory to one's friends, as it is impertinent and misplaced withstrangers. I desire to see you in your every-day clothes, by yourfireside, in your pleasures; in short, in your private life; but I havenot yet been able to obtain this. Whenever you condescend to do it, asyou promise, stick to truth; for I am not so uninformed of Hamburg asperhaps you may think. 

As for myself, I am very UNWELL, and very weary of being so; and withlittle hopes, at my age, of ever being otherwise. I often wish for theend of the wretched remnant of my life; and that wish is a rational one;but then the innate principle of self-preservation, wisely implanted inour natures for obvious purposes, opposes that wish, and makes usendeavor to spin out our thread as long as we can, however decayed androtten it may be; and, in defiance of common sense, we seek on for thatchymic gold, which beggars us when old. 

Whatever your amusements, or pleasures, may be at Hamburg, I dare say youtaste them more sensibly than ever you did in your life, now that youhave business enough to whet your appetite to them. Business, one-half ofthe day, is the best preparation for the pleasures of the other half. Ihope, and believe, that it will be with you as it was with an apothecarywhom I knew at Twickenham. A considerable estate fell to him by anunexpected accident; upon which he thought it decent to leave off hisbusiness; accordingly he generously gave up his shop and his stock to hishead 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 likea 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, withthe inclosed; which I return you, that there may be no chasm in yourpapers. I had heard before of Burrish's death, and had taken some stepsthereupon; but I very soon dropped that affair, for ninety-nine goodreasons; the first of which was, that nonody is to go in his room, andthat, had he lived, he was to have been recalled from Munich. But anotherreason, more flattering for you, was, that you could not be spared fromHamburg. Upon the whole, I am not sorry for it, as the place where youare 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 desirablesituation than to rush at Munich, where we can never have any businessbeyond a subsidy. Do but go on, and exert yourself were you are, andbetter things will soon follow. 

Surely the inaction of our army at Hanover continues too long. Weexpected wonders from it some time ago, and yet nothing is attempted. TheFrench 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 ourarmy or not? or has the march of the Russians cut him out work for allhis troops? I am afraid it has. If one body of Russians joins theAustrian army in Moravia, and another body the Swedes in Pomerania, hewill have his hands very full, too full, I fear. The French say they willhave an army of 180, 000 men in Germany this year; the Empress Queen willhave 150, 000; if the Russians have but 40, 000, what can resist such aforce? The King of Prussia may say, indeed, with more justice than everany one person could before him, 'Moi. Medea superest'. 

You promised the some egotism; but I have received none yet. Do youfrequent the Landgrave? 'Hantex vous les grands de la terre'? What arethe connections of the evening? All this, and a great deal more of thiskind, let me know in your next. 

The House of Commons is still very unanimous. There was a little popularsquib let off this week, in a motion of Sir John Glynne's, seconded bySir John Philips, for annual parliaments. It was a very cold scent, andput 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 ofyour 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 talkedin an extraordinary manner; he engaged that the King of Prussia should bemaster of Vienna in the month of May; and he told me that you were verymuch in love with his daughter. Your letter explained all this to me; andnext day, Lord and Lady E-----gave me innumerable instances of hisfrenzy, with which I shall not trouble you. What inflamed it the more (ifit did not entirely occasion it) was a great quantity of cantharides, which, it seems, he had taken at Hamburgh, to recommend himself, Isuppose, to Mademoiselle John. He was let blood four times on board theship, and has been let blood four times since his arrival here; but stillthe inflammation continues very high. He is now under the care of hisbrothers, who do not let him go abroad. They have written to this sameMademoiselle John, to prevent if they can, her coming to England, andtold her the case; which, when she hears she must be as mad as he is, ifshe takes the journey. By the way, she must be 'une dame aventuriere', toreceive a note for 10, 000 roubles from a man whom she had known but threedays! to take a contract of marriage, knowing he was married already; andto engage herself to follow him to England. I suppose this is not thefirst adventure of the sort which she has had. 

After the news we received yesterday, that the French had evacuatedHanover, all but Hamel, we daily expect much better. We pursue them, wecut them off 'en detail', and at last we destroy their whole army. I wishit 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, withthe favorable account of our progress in Lower Saxony, and reasonableprospect of more decisive success. I confess I did not expect this, whenmy friend Munchausen took his leave of me, to go to Stade, and break theneutrality; I thought it at least a dangerous, but rather a desperateundertaking; whereas, hitherto, it has proved a very fortunate one. Ilook upon the French army as 'fondue'; and, what with desertion, deaths, and epidemical distempers, I dare say not a third of it will ever returnto France. The great object is now, what the Russians can or will do; andwhether the King of Prussia can hinder their junction with the Austrians, by beating either, before they join. I will trust him for doing all thatcan be done. 

Sir C. W. Is still in confinement, and, I fear, will always be so, for heseems 'cum ratione insanire'; the physicians have collected all he hassaid and done that indicated an alienation of mind, and have laid itbefore him in writing; he has answered it in writing too, and justifieshimself in the most plausible arguments than can possibly be urged. Hetells his brother, and the few who are allowed to see him, that they aresuch narrow and contracted minds themselves, that they take those for madwho have a great and generous way of thinking; as, for instance, when hedetermined to send his daughter over to you in a fortnight, to bemarried, without any previous agreement or settlements, it was because hehad long known you, and loved you as a man of sense and honor; andtherefore would not treat with you as with an attorney. That as forMademoiselle 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 ajust compassion for the other. I will not tire you with enumerating anymore instances of the poor man's frenzy; but conclude this subject withpitying him, and poor human nature, which holds its reason by soprecarious a tenure. The lady, who you tell me is set out, 'en sera pourla seine et les fraix du voyage', for her note is worth no more than hercontract. By the way, she must be a kind of 'aventuriere', to engage soeasily in such an adventure with a man whom she had not known above aweek, and whose 'debut' of 10, 000 roubles showed him not to be in hisright senses. 

You will probably have seen General Yorke, by this time, in his way toBerlin or Breslau, or wherever the King of Prussia may be. As he keepshis commission to the States General, I presume he is not to stay longwith his Prussian Majesty; but, however, while he is there, take care towrite to him very constantly, and to give all the information you can. His father, Lord Hardwicke, is your great puff: he commends your officeletters, exceedingly. I would have the Berlin commission your object, ingood time; never lose view of it. Do all you can to recommend yourself tothe King of Prussia on your side of the water, and to smooth your way forthat commission on this; by the turn which things have taken of late, itmust 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 thefirst 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 findby experience, that the mind and the body are more than married, for theyare most intimately united; and when the one suffers, the othersympathizes. 'Non sum qualis eram': neither my memory nor my inventionare now what they formerly were. It is in a great measure my own fault; Icannot accuse Nature, for I abused her; and it is reasonable I shouldsuffer for it. 

I do not like the return of the impression upon your lungs; but the rigorof the cold may probably have brought it upon you, and your lungs not infault. 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 itseemed so, from a premature summer that we had, for a fortnight, inMarch; which brought everything forward, only to be destroyed. I haveexperienced it at Blackheath, where the promise of fruit was a mostflattering one, and all nipped in the bud by frost and snow, in April. Ishall not have a single peach or apricot. 

I have nothing to tell you from hence concerning public affairs, but whatyou read in the newspapers. This only is extraordinary: that last week, in the House of Commons, above ten millions were granted, and the wholeHanover army taken into British pay, with but one single negative, whichwas Mr. Viner's. 

Mr. Pitt gains ground in the closet, and yet does not lose it in thepublic. That is new. 

Monsieur Kniphausen has dined with me; he is one of the prettiest fellowsI have seen; he has, with a great deal of life and fire, 'les manieresd'un honnete homme, et le ton de la Parfaitement bonne compagnie'. Youlike him yourself; try to be like him: it is in your power. 

I hear that Mr. Mitchel is to be recalled, notwithstanding the King ofPrussia's instances to keep him. But why, is a secret that I cannotpenetrate. 

You will not fail to offer the Landgrave, and the Princess of Hesse (whoI find are going home), to be their agent and commissioner at Hamburg. 

I cannot comprehend the present state of Russia, nor the motions of theirarmies. They change their generals once a week; sometimes they march withrapidity, and now they lie quiet behind the Vistula. We have a thousandstories 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 del'Hopital governs both him and the court. Sir C. W. Is said, by hisindiscretions, to have caused the disgrace of Bestuchef, which seems notimpossible. In short, everything of every kind is said, because, Ibelieve, very little is truly known. 'A propos' of Sir C. W. ; he is outof confinement, and gone to his house in the country for the wholesummer. They say he is now very cool and well. I have seen his Circe, ather 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 veutplaider', and I fancy 'faire autre chose si elle peut. Jubeo to benevalere. 

LETTER CCXXI

BLACKHEATH, May 18, O. S. 1758. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I have your letter of the 9th now before me, and condolewith you upon the present solitude and inaction of Hamburg. You are nowshrunk from the dignity and importance of a consummate minister, to bebut, as it were, a common man. But this has, at one time or another, beenthe case of most great men; who have not always had equal opportunitiesof exerting their talents. The greatest must submit to the capriciousnessof fortune; though they can, better than others, improve the favorablemoments. For instance, who could have thought, two years ago, that youwould have been the Atlas of the Northern Pole; but the Good Genius ofthe North ordered it so; and now that you have set that part of the globeright, you return to 'otium cum dignitate'. But to be serious: now thatyou 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. Imean, that you should write short memoirs of that busy scene, in whichyou have been enough concerned, since your arrival at Hamburg, to be ableto put together authentic facts and anecdotes. I do not know whether youwill give yourself the trouble to do it or not; but I do know, that ifyou will, 'olim hcec meminisse juvabit'. I would have them short, butcorrect as to facts and dates. 

I have told Alt, in the strongest manner, your lamentations for the lossof 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? whichwould certainly be granted you from hence, and which would be looked uponas 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 onlythreatened; sign a peace upon the ramparts of her capital. If she isobstinate, and will not, she must fly either to Presburg or to Inspruck, and Vienna must fall. But I think he will offer her reasonable conditionsenough for herself; and I suppose, that, in that case, Caunitz will bereasonable enough to advise her to accept of them. What turn would thewar take then? Would the French and Russians carry it on without her? TheKing of Prussia, and the Prince of Brunswick, would soon sweep them outof Germany. By this time, too, I believe, the French are entertained inAmerica with the loss of Cape Breton; and, in consequence of that, Quebec; for we have a force there equal to both those undertakings, andofficers there, now, that will execute what Lord L------never would somuch as attempt. His appointments were too considerable to let him doanything that might possibly put an end to the war. Lord Howe, uponseeing plainly that he was resolved to do nothing, had asked leave toreturn, as well as Lord Charles Hay. 

We have a great expedition preparing, and which will soon be ready tosail from the Isle of Wight; fifteen thousand good troops, eightybattering cannons, besides mortars, and every other thing in abundance, fit for either battle or siege. Lord Anson desired, and is appointed, tocommand the fleet employed upon this expedition; a proof that it is not atrifling one. Conjectures concerning its destination are infinite; andthe most ignorant are, as usual, the boldest conjecturers. If I form anyconjectures, 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 isas 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 headsare half turned with the King of Prussia's success, and will be quiteturned, if we have any in America, or at sea, a moderate peace will suitus better than this immoderate war of twelve millions a year. 

Domestic affairs go just as they did; the Duke of Newcastle and Mr. Pittjog on like man and wife; that is, seldom agreeing, often quarreling; butby mutual interest, upon the whole, not parting. The latter, I am told, gains ground in the closet; though he still keeps his strength in theHouse, and his popularity in the public; or, perhaps, because of that. 

Do you hold your resolution of visiting your dominions of Bremen andLubeck this summer? If you do, pray take the trouble of informingyourself correctly of the several constitutions and customs of thoseplaces, and of the present state of the federal union of the Hanseatictowns: it will do you no harm, nor cost you much trouble; and it is somuch clear gain on the side of useful knowledge. 

I am now settled at Blackheath for the summer; where unseasonable frostand 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 alittle; 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 youunprovoked. 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 RoyalHighness the Princess of Cassel; she has written your panegyric to hersister, Princess Amelia, who sent me a compliment upon it. This haslikewise done you no harm with the King, who said gracious things uponthat occasion. I suppose you had for her Royal Highness those attentionswhich I wish to God you would have, in due proportions, for everybody. You see, by this instance, the effects of them; they are always repaidwith interest. I am more confirmed by this in thinking, that, if you canconveniently, you should ask leave to go for a week to Cassel, to returnyour thanks for all favors received. 

I cannot expound to myself the conduct of the Russians. There must be atrick in their not marching with more expedition. They have either had asop from the King of Prussia, or they want an animating dram from Franceand Austria. The King of Prussia's conduct always explains itself by theevents; and, within a very few days, we must certainly hear of some verygreat stroke from that quarter. I think I never in my life remember aperiod of time so big with great events as the present: within two monthsthe fate of the House of Austria will probably be decided: within thesame 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 knowthe good or ill success of our great expedition; for it is sailed; and itcannot be long before we shall hear something of the Prince ofBrunswick's operations, from whom I also expect good things. If all thesethings turn out, as there is good reason to believe they will, we mayonce, in our turn, dictate a reasonable peace to France, who now paysseventy per cent insurance upon its trade, and seven per cent for all themoney raised for the service of the year. 

Comte Bothmar has got the small-pox, and of a bad kind. Kniphausendiverts himself much here; he sees all places and all people, and isubiquity itself. Mitchel, who was much threatened, stays at last atBerlin, at the earnest request of the King of Prussia. Lady is safelydelivered of a son, to the great joy of that noble family. Theexpression, of a woman's having brought her husband a son, seems to be aproper 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 itis 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 Hockfrom Hamburg, and so you did not. If you meet with any superlativelygood, and not else, pray send over a 'foudre' of it, and write to him. Ishall have a share in it. But unless you find some, either at Hamburg orat 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. Ourtroops began to land at the Bay of Cancale the 5th, without anyopposition. We have no further accounts yet, but expect some everymoment. By the plan of it, which I have seen, it is by no means a weakplace; and I fear there will be many hats to be disposed of, before it istaken. There are in the port above thirty privateers; about sixteen oftheir own, and about as many taken from us. 237

Now for Africa, where we have had great success. The French have beendriven out of all their forts and settlements upon the Gum coast, andupon 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. Thepresent booty is likewise very considerable, in gold dust, and gumSeneca; which is very valuable, by being a very necessary commodity, forall our stained and printed linens. 

Now for America. The least sanguine people here expect, the latter end ofthis month or the beginning of the next, to have the account of thetaking of Cape Breton, and of all the forts with hard names in NorthAmerica. 

Captain Clive has long since settled Asia to our satisfaction; so thatthree parts of the world look very favorable for us. Europe, I submit tothe care of the King of Prussia and Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick; and Ithink they will give a good account of it. France is out of luck, and outof courage; and will, I hope, be enough out of spirits to submit to areasonable peace. By reasonable, I mean what all people call reasonablein their own case; an advantageous one for us. 

I have set all right with Munchausen; who would not own that he was atall offended, and said, as you do, that his daughter did not stay longenough, nor appear enough at Hamburg, for you possibly to know that shewas there. But people are always ashamed to own the little weaknesses ofself-love, which, however, all people feel more or less. The excuse, Isaw, pleased. 

I will send you your quadrille tables by the first opportunity, consignedto the care of Mr. Mathias here. 'Felices faustaeque sint! May you winupon them, when you play with men; and when you play with women, eitherwin 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 instantlychoak the little lady. Admiral marries Lady; there the danger, if dangeris, will be on the other side. The lady has wanted a man so long, thatshe 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 soonreceive, a little case from Amsterdam, directed to you at Hamburg. It isfor Princess Ameba, the King of Prussia's sister, and contains some bookswhich she desired Sir Charles Hotham to procure her from England, so longago as when he was at Berlin: he sent for them immediately; but, by I donot know what puzzle, they were recommended to the care of Mr. Selwyn, atParis, who took such care of them, that he kept them near three years inhis warehouse, and has at last sent them to Amsterdam, from whence theyare sent to you. If the books are good for anything, they must beconsiderably improved, by having seen so much of the world; but, as Ibelieve they are English books, perhaps they may, like English travelers, have seen nobody, but the several bankers to whom they were consigned: bethat as it will, I think you had best deliver them to Monsieur Hecht, thePrussian Minister at Hamburg, to forward to her Royal Highness, with arespectful compliment from you, which you will, no doubt, turn in thebest 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 friendsexult in the destruction of three French ships of war, and one hundredand thirty privateers and trading ships; and affirm that it stopped themarch of threescore thousand men, who were going to join the Comte deClermont's army. On the other hand, Mr. Fox and company call it breakingwindows 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, whichis the great 'entrepot' of their Newfoundland fishery, and will be aconsiderable loss to them in that branch of their trade. These, you willperhaps say, are no great matters, and I say so too; but, at least, theyare signs of life, which we had not given them for many years before; andwill show the French, by our invading them, that we do not fear theirinvading us. Were those invasions, in fishing-boats from Dunkirk, soterrible as they were artfully represented to be, the French would havehad an opportunity of executing them, while our fleet, and such aconsiderable part of our army, were employed upon their coast. BUT MYLORD LIGONIER DOES NOT WANT AN ARMY AT HOME. 

The parliament is prorogued by a most gracious speech neither by nor fromhis Majesty, who was TOO ILL to go to the House; the Lords and Gentlemenare, 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 alittle, according as my lead allows, or my spirits prompt; to writeanything tolerable, the mind must be in a natural, proper disposition;provocatives, in that case, as well as in another, will only producemiserable, abortive performances. 

Now that you have (as I suppose) full leisure enough, I wish you wouldgive yourself the trouble, or rather pleasure, to do what I hinted to yousome time ago; that is, to write short memoirs of those affairs whichhave either gone through your hands, or that have come to your certainknowledge, from the inglorious battle of Hastenbeck, to the still morescandalous Treaty of Neutrality. Connect, at least, if it be by ever soshort notes, the pieces and letters which you must necessarily have inyour hands, and throw in the authentic anecdotes that you have probablyheard. You will be glad when you have done it: and the reviving pastideas, in some order and method, will be an infinite comfort to youhereafter. I have a thousand times regretted not having done so; it is atpresent too late for me to begin; this is the right time for you, andyour life is likely to be a busy one. Would young men avail themselves ofthe advice and experience of their old friends, they would find theutility 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 receivedyours of the 15th in the short interval. You did very well not to buy anyRhenish, at the exorbitant price you mention, without further directions;for both my brother and I think the money better than the wine, be thewine ever so good. We will content our selves with our stock in hand ofhumble Rhenish, of about three shillings a-bottle. However, 'pour lararity du fait, I will lay out twelve ducats', for twelve bottles of thewine of 1665, by way of an eventual cordial, if you can obtain a 'senatusconsultum' for it. I am in no hurry for it, so send it me only when youcan conveniently; well packed up 's'entend'. 

You will, I dare say, have leave to go to Cassel; and if you do go, youwill perhaps think it reasonable, that I, who was the adviser of thejourney, should pay the expense of it. I think so too; and therefore, ifyou go, I will remit the L100 which you have calculated it at. You willfind the House of Cassel the house of gladness; for Hanau is already, ormust 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 humanbutchers. The French behaved better than at Rosbach, especially theCarabiniers Royaux, who could not be 'entames'. I wish the siege ofOlmutz well over, and a victory after it; and that, with good news fromAmerica, which I think there is no reason to doubt of, must procure us agood peace at the end of the year. The Prince of Prussia's death is nopublic misfortune: there was a jealousy and alienation between the Kingand him, which could never have been made up between the possessor of thecrown 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, andto be forgiven, the possession and the expectative, at least for someyears. 

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 lastwill have informed you that I had received your former, concerning theRhenish, about which I gave you instructions. If 'vinum Mosellanum estomni tempore sanum', as the Chapter of Treves asserts, what must this'vinum Rhenanum' be, from its superior strength and age? It must be theuniversal panacea. 

Captain Howe is to sail forthwith somewhere or another, with about 8, 000land 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 by8, 000 men and a much smaller fleet. About 8, 500 horse, foot, anddragoons, are embarking, as fast as they can, for Embden, to reinforcePrince Ferdinand's army; late and few, to be sure, but still better thannever, and none. The operations in Moravia go on slowly, and Olmutz seemsto be a tough piece of work; I own I begin to be in pain for the King ofPrussia; for the Russians now march in earnest, and Marechal Dann's armyis 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 fineone; I presume you will go to see it, and, if you do, I would advise youto go when the Danish Monarch comes to review it himself; 'pour prendrelangue de ce Seigneur'. The rulers of the earth are all worth knowing;they suggest moral reflections: and the respect that one naturally hasfor God's vicegerents here on earth, is greatly increased by acquaintancewith them. 

Your card-tables are gone, and they inclose some suits of clothes, andsome of these clothes inclose a letter. 

Your friend Lady------is gone into the country with her Lord, tonegotiate, coolly and at leisure, their intended separation. My Ladyinsists 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 expenseto the family, but rather the contrary. My Lord confesses that there issome weight in this argument: but then pleads sentiment: my Lady says, afiddlestick for sentiment, after having been married so long. How thismatter 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, Ihope, 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 asecond visit at Hamburg, than you are to return theirs at Cassel; andtherefore, till that matter is clearer, I shall not mention it to LordHolderness. 

By the King of Prussia's disappointment in Moravia, by the approach ofthe 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 noiractuellement'; I see swarms of Austrians, French, Imperialists, Swedes, and Russians, in all near four hundred thousand men, surrounding the Kingof 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 notceased raining these three months, and withal is extremely cold. Thisneither agrees with me in itself, nor in its consequences; for it hindersme from taking my necessary exercise, and makes me very unwell. As myhead 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 newsthat the fever had left you, and I will believe that it has: but apostscript to it, of only two lines, under your own hand, would haveconvinced me more effectually of your recovery. An intermitting fever, inthe intervals of the paroxysms, would surely have allowed you to havewritten a few lines with your own hand, to tell me how you were; and tillI receive a letter (as short as you please) from you yourself, I shalldoubt 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, butfrom whence we know not. From Germany we hope for good news: I confess Ido not, I only wish it. The King of Prussia is marched to fight theRussians, and I believe will beat them, if they stand; but what then?What shall he do next, with the three hundred and fourscore thousand mennow actually at work upon him? He will do all that man can do, but atlast 'il faut succomber'. 

Remember to think yourself less well than you are, in order to be quiteso; be very regular, rather longer than you need; and then there will beno 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 22dAugust; for, by not having a line from you in your secretary's twoletters, I suspect that you were worse than he cared to tell me; and sofar I was in the right, that your fever was more malignant thanintermitting ones generally are, which seldom confines people to theirbed, or at most, only the days of the paroxysms. Now that, thank God, youare well again, though weak, do not be in too much haste to be better andstronger: leave that to nature, which, at your age, will restore bothyour health and strength as soon as she should. Live cool for a time, andrather low, instead of taking what they call heartening things: Yourmanner of making presents is noble, 'et sent la grandeur d'ame d'un preuxChevalier'. You depreciate their value to prevent any returns; for it isimpossible that a wine which has counted so many Syndicks, that can onlybe 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, whichwas stored up in the public magazines, and only distributed by order ofthe magistrate, I dare say, cost more; so that I am convinced, yourpresent is much more valuable than you would make it. 

Here I am interrupted, by receiving your letter of the 25th past. I amglad that you are able to undertake your journey to Bremen: the motion, the air, the new scene, the everything, will do you good, provided youmanage yourself discreetly. 

Your bill for fifty pounds shall certainly be accepted and paid; but, asin conscience I think fifty pounds is too little, for seeing a liveLandgrave, and especially at Bremen, which this whole nation knows to bea very dear place, I shall, with your leave, add fifty more to it. By theway, when you see the Princess Royal of Cassel, be sure to tell her howsensible you are of the favorable and too partial testimony, which youknow she wrote of you to Princess Amelia. 

The King of Prussia has had the victory, which you in some measureforetold; and as he has taken 'la caisse militaire', I presume 'Messieursles Russes sont hors de combat pour cette campagne'; for 'point d'argent, point de Suisse', is not truer of the laudable Helvetic body, than 'pointd'argent, point de Russe', is of the savages of the Two Russias, not evenexcepting the Autocratrice of them both. Serbelloni, I believe, standsnext in his Prussian Majesty's list to be beaten; that is, if he willstand; as the Prince de Soubize does in Prince Ferdinand's, upon the samecondition. 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 shouldmake the best of these favorable events, by way negotiation. 

I think I have written a great deal, with an actual giddiness of headupon 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 explanatorynote upon my last; for I am not learned enough, nor yet dull enough, tomake my comment much longer than my text. I told you then, in my formerletter, that, with your leave (which I will suppose granted), I would addfifty pounds to your draught for that sum; now, lest you shouldmisunderstand this, and wait for the remittance of that additional fiftyfrom hence, know then my meaning was, that you should likewise draw uponme for it when you please; which I presume, will be more convenient toyou. 

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 heroin ancient or modern story, if they can. He disgraces history, and makesone give some credit to romances. Calprenede's Juba does not now seem soabsurd 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 isthe last thing that anybody will tell me; or own when I tell it them; butI know it is true. Adieu. 

LETTER CCXXXI

BLACKHEATH, September 22, 1758

MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received no letter from you since you leftHamburg; I presume that you are perfectly recovered, but it might nothave been improper to have told me so. I am very far from beingrecovered; on the contrary, I am worse and worse, weaker and weaker everyday; for which reason I shall leave this place next Monday, and set outfor Bath a few days afterward. I should not take all this trouble merelyto 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 thosephysical ills which make that life a load while it does last, is worthany trouble and attention. 

We are come off but scurvily from our second attempt upon St. Malo; it isour 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 amoral certainty of taking some place of great importance, such as Brest, Rochefort, or Toulon. 

Monsieur Munchausen embarked yesterday, as he said, for PrinceFerdinand's army; but as it is not generally thought that his militaryskill can be of any great use to that prince, people conjecture that hisbusiness must be of a very different nature, and suspect separatenegotiations, neutralities, and what not. Kniphausen does not relish itin the least, and is by no means satisfied with the reasons that havebeen given him for it. Before he can arrive there, I reckon thatsomething decisive will have passed in Saxony; if to the disadvantage ofthe King of Prussia, he is crushed; but if, on the contrary, he shouldget a complete victory (and he does not get half victories) over theAustrians, the winter may probably produce him and us a reasonable peace. I look upon Russia as 'hors de combat' for some time; France is certainlysick of the war; under an unambitious King, and an incapable Ministry, ifthere is one at all: and, unassisted by those two powers, the EmpressQueen had better be quiet. Were any other man in the situation of theKing of Prussia, I should not hesitate to pronounce him ruined; but he issuch 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 bewanting: but, however, I dare say their table is always good, for theLandgrave is a gourmand; and as you are domestic there, you may be sotoo, and recruit your loss of flesh from your fever: but do not recruittoo 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 carryingDr. Middleton's bark and prescription with you. I foresaw that you wouldthink yourself cured too soon, and gave you warning of it; but BYGONESare BYGONES, as Chartres, when he was dying, said of his sins; let uslook 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 fromthence, notwithstanding the requests or commands of all the princesses inEurope: 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 thatyour health deserves more attention than your palate. When you shall bethus re-established, I approve of your returning to Bremen; and indeedyou cannot well avoid it, both with regard to your promise, and to thedistinction with which you have been received by the Cassel family. 

Now to the other part of your letter. Lord Holdernesse has been extremelycivil to you, in sending you, all under his own hand, such obligingoffers of his service. The hint is plain, that he will (in case youdesire it) procure you leave to come home for some time; so that thesingle question is, whether you should desire it or not, NOW. It will betwo months before you can possibly undertake the journey, whether by seaor by land, and either way it would be a troublesome and dangerous onefor a convalescent in the rigor of the month of November; you could drinkno mineral waters here in that season, nor are any mineral waters properin your case, being all of them heating, except Seltzer's; then, whatwould do you more harm than all medicines could do you good, would be thepestilential vapors of the House of Commons, in long and crowded days, ofwhich there will probably be many this session; where your attendance, ifhere, will necessarily be required. I compare St. Stephen's Chapel, uponthose days, to 'la Grotta del Cane'. 

Whatever may be the fate of the war now, negotiations will certainly bestirring all the winter, and of those, the northern ones, you aresensible, are not the least important; in these, if at Hamburg, you willprobably have your share, and perhaps a meritorious one. Upon the whole, therefore, I would advise you to write a very civil letter to LordHoldernesse; and to tell him that though you cannot hope to be of any useto his Majesty's affairs anywhere, yet, in the present unsettled state ofthe North, it is possible that unforeseen accidents may throw in your wayto be of some little service, and that you would not willingly be out ofthe way of those accidents; but that you shall be most extremely obligedto his Lordship, if he will procure you his Majesty's gracious permissionto return for a few months in the spring, when probably affairs will bemore 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 peacemore than war, I shall solicit Burrish's commission for you, which is oneof the most agreeable ones in his Majesty's gift; and I shall by no meansdespair 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 happento be different from mine; but mine, I think, is more both for yourhealth and your interest. However, do as you please: may you in this, andeverything 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 29thpast, and of the 3d instant. 

The last tells me that you are perfectly recovered; and your resolutionof going to Bremen in three or four days proves it; for surely you wouldnot undertake that journey a second time, and at this season of the year, without feeling your health solidly restored; however, in all events, Ihope you have taken a provision of good bark with you. I think yourattention to her Royal Highness may be of use to you here; and indeed allattentions, to all sorts, of people, are always repaid in some way orother; though real obligations are not. For instance, Lord Titchfield, who has been with you at Hamburg, has written an account to the Duke andDuchess of Portland, who are here, of the civilities you showed him, withwhich he is much pleased, and they delighted. At this rate, if you do nottake care, you will get the unmanly reputation of a well-bred man; andyour 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 asa 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 whenI came, I am still far from well. 

My head is giddier than becomes a head of my age; and my stomach has notrecovered 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, thatyou are as well recovered as you could be in so short a time. It is yourbusiness now to keep yourself well by scrupulously following Dr. Middleton's directions. He seems to be a rational and knowing man. Soapand steel are, unquestionably, the proper medicines for your case; but asthey are alteratives, you must take them for a very long time, six monthsat least; and then drink chalybeate waters. I am fully persuaded, thatthis was your original complaint in Carniola, which those ignorantphysicians called, in their jargon, 'Arthritis vaga', and treated assuch. But now that the true cause of your illness is discovered, Iflatter myself that, with time and patience on your part, you will beradically cured; but, I repeat it again, it must be by a long anduninterrupted course of those alterative medicines above mentioned. Theyhave no taste; but if they had a bad one, I will not now suppose you sucha child, as to let the frowardness of your palate interfere in the leastwith the recovery or enjoyment of health. The latter deserves the utmostattention of the most rational man; the former is the only proper objectof the care of a dainty, frivolous woman. 

The run of luck, which some time ago we were in, seems now to be turnedagainst us. Oberg is completely routed; his Prussian Majesty wassurprised (which I am surprised at), and had rather the worst of it. I amin some pain for Prince Ferdinand, as I take it for granted that thedetachment from Marechal de Contade's army, which enabled Prince Soubizeto beat Oberg, will immediately return to the grand army, and then itwill be infinitely superior. 

Nor do I see where Prince Ferdinand can take his winter quarters, unlesshe retires to Hanover; and that I do not take to be at present the landof Canaan. Our second expedition to St. Malo I cannot call so much anunlucky, as an ill-conducted one; as was also Abercrombie's affair inAmerica. 'Mais il n'y a pas de petite perte qui revient souvent': and allthese accidents put together make a considerable sum total. 

I have found so little good by these waters, that I do not intend to stayhere above a week longer; and then remove my crazy body to London, whichis the most convenient place either to live or die in. 

I cannot expect active health anywhere; you may, with common care andprudence, 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 farbeforehand. It would be a pretty commission, and I will 'accingere me' toprocure 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 TheHague, which is not unlikely, since he cannot go to Brunswick to hiseldest 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 isexpected this session of parliament, about continent and no continent;some think Mr. Pitt too continent, others too little so; but a littletime, as the newspapers most prudently and truly observe, will clear upthese matters. 

The King has been ill; but his illness is terminated in a good fit of thegout, with which he is still confined. It was generally thought that hewould have died, and for a very good reason; for the oldest lion in theTower, much about the King's age, died a fortnight ago. Thisextravagancy, I can assure you, was believed by many above peuple. Sowild and capricious is the human mind!

Take care of your health as much as you can; for, To BE, or NOT To BE, isa question of much less importance, in my mind, than to be or not to bewell. Adieu. 

LETTER CCXXXVI

LONDON, December 15, 1758. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: It is a great while since I heard from you, but I hopethat good, not ill health, has been the occasion of this silence: I willsuppose you have been, or are still at Bremen, and engrossed by yourHessian friends. 

Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick is most certainly to have the Garter, and Ithink 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 atcourts, 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 adisappointment, though often very unjustly, if the expectation wasreasonably grounded; however, it is certainly most prudent not tocommunicate, prematurely, one's hopes or one's fears. I cannot tell youwhen Prince Ferdinand will have it; though there are so many candidatesfor 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 fourthvacancy. Lord Rockingham and Lord Holdernesse are secure. Lord Templepushes strongly, but, I believe, is not secure. This commission fordubbing a knight, and so distinguished a one, will be a very agreeableand creditable one for you, 'et il faut vous en acquitter galamment'. Inthe days of ancient chivalry, people were very nice who they would beknighted by and, if I do not mistake, Francis the First would only beknighted by the Chevalier Bayard, 'qui etoit preux Chevalier et sansreproche'; and no doubt but it will be recorded, 'dans les archives de laMaison de Brunswick', that Prince Ferdinand received the honor ofknighthood from your hands. 

The estimates for the expenses of the year 1759 are made up; I have seenthem; and what do you think they amount to? No less than twelve millionsthree hundred thousand pounds: a most incredible sum, and yet alreadysubscribed, 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 theless astonishing. This is Mr. Pitt's doing, AND IT IS MARVELOUS IN OUREYES. 

The King of Prussia has nothing more to do this year; and, the next, hemust begin where he has left off. I wish he would employ this winter inconcluding a separate peace with the Elector of Saxony; which would givehim more elbowroom to act against France and the Queen of Hungary, andput an end at once to the proceedings of the Diet, and the army of theempire; for then no estate of the empire would be invaded by a co-estate, and France, the faithful and disinterested guarantee of the Treaty ofWestphalia, would have no pretense to continue its armies there. I shouldthink that his Polish Majesty, and his Governor, Comte Bruhl, must bepretty weary of being fugitives in Poland, where they are hated, and ofbeing ravaged in Saxony. This reverie of mine, I hope will be tried, andI 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, onetruth 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 amglad to find is a bill of health: but, however, do not presume too muchupon it, but obey and honor your physician, "that thy days may be long inthe land. "

Since my last, I have heard nothing more concerning the ribband; but Itake it for granted it will be disposed of soon. By the way, uponreflection, I am not sure that anybody but a knight can, according toform, be employed to make a knight. I remember that Sir Clement Cotterelwas sent to Holland, to dub the late Prince of Orange, only because hewas a knight himself; and I know that the proxies of knights, who cannotattend their own installations, must always be knights. This did notoccur to me before, and perhaps will not to the person who was torecommend 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 itshould happen. 

G-----is exceedingly flattered with your account, that three thousand ofhis countrymen; all as little as himself, should be thought a sufficientguard upon three-and-twenty thousand of all the nations in Europe; notthat he thinks himself, by any means, a little man, for when he woulddescribe a tall handsome man, he raises himself up at least half an inchto represent him. 

The private news from Hamburg is, that his Majesty's Resident there iswoundily 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 asyou please, for one hundred pounds. 

Here is nothing new, except the unanimity with which the parliament givesaway a dozen of millions sterling; and the unanimity of the public is asgreat in approving of it, which has stifled the usual political andpolemical argumentations. 

Cardinal Bernis's disgrace is as sudden, and hitherto as littleunderstood, as his elevation was. I have seen his poems, printed atParis, not by a friend, I dare say; and to judge by them, I humblyconceive his Eminency is a p-----y. I will say nothing of that excellentheadpiece 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 inyour debt: the reason was, that my head, like many other heads, hasfrequently 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 atHamburg) make yourself perfectly master of that dull but very usefulknowledge, the course of exchange, and the causes of its almost perpetualvariations; the value and relation of different coins, the specie, thebanco, usances, agio, and a thousand other particulars. You may with easelearn, and you will be very glad when you have learned them; for, in yourbusiness, that sort of knowledge will often prove necessary. 

I hear nothing more of Prince Ferdinand's garter: that he will have oneis very certain; but when, I believe, is very uncertain; all the otherpostulants wanting to be dubbed at the same time, which cannot be, asthere is not ribband enough for them. 

If the Russians move in time, and in earnest, there will be an end of ourhopes 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 Ihave always some hopes of a change under a 'Gunarchy'--[Derived from theGreek word 'Iuvn' a woman, and means female government]--where whim andhumor commonly prevail, reason very seldom, and then only by a luckymistake. 

I expect the incomparable fair one of Hamburg, that prodigy of beauty, and paragon of good sense, who has enslaved your mind, and inflamed yourheart. If she is as well 'etrennee' as you say she shall, you will besoon out of her chains; for I have, by long experience, found women to belike Telephus's spear, if one end kills, the other cures. 

There never was so quiet, nor so silent a session of parliament as thepresent; Mr. Pitt declares only what he would have them do, and they doit 'nemine contradicente', Mr. Viner only expected. 

Duchess Hamilton is to be married, to-morrow, to Colonel Campbell, theson 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 oldacquaintance, the fair Madame C------e, is run away from her husband, with a jeweler, that 'etrennes' her, and is come over here; but I daresay 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, mostunjustly, of being in arrears in my correspondence; whereas, if ourepistolary accounts were fairly liquidated, I believe you would bebrought in considerably debtor. I do not see how any of my letters to youcan miscarry, unless your office-packet miscarries too, for I always sendthem to the office. Moreover, I might have a justifiable excuse forwriting to you seldomer than usual, for to be sure there never was aperiod of time, in the middle of a winter, and the parliament sitting, that supplied so little matter for a letter. Near twelve millions havebeen granted this year, not only 'nemine contradicente', but, 'neminequicquid dicente'. The proper officers bring in the estimates; it istaken for granted that they are necessary and frugal; the members go todinner; and leave Mr. West and Mr. Martin to do the rest. 

I presume you have seen the little poem of the "Country Lass, " by SoameJenyns, for it was in the "Chronicle"; as was also an answer to it, fromthe "Monitor. " They are neither of them bad performances; the first isthe neatest, and the plan of the second has the most invention. I sendyou none of those 'pieces volantes' in my letters, because they are allprinted in one or other of the newspapers, particularly in the"Chronicles"; and I suppose that you and others have all those papersamong you at Hamburg; in which case it would be only putting you to theunnecessary expense of double postage. 

I find you are sanguine about the King of Prussia this year; I allow hisarmy will be what you say; but what will that be 'vis-a-vis' French, Austrians, Imperialists, Swedes, and Russians, who must amount to morethan double that number? Were the inequality less, I would allow for theKing of Prussia's being so much 'ipse agmen' as pretty nearly to balancethe account. In war, numbers are generally my omens; and, I confess, thatin Germany they seem not happy ones this year. In America. I think, weare sure of success, and great success; but how we shall be able tostrike a balance, as they call it, between good success there, and illsuccess upon the continent, so as to come at a peace; is more than I candiscover. 

Lady Chesterfield makes you her compliments, and thanks you for youroffer; but declines troubling you, being discouraged by the ill successof Madame Munchausen's and Miss Chetwynd's commissions, the former forbeef, 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; forhe most certainly will have the Garter; and he will as probably have itbefore the campaign opens, as after. His campaign must, I doubt, at bestbe a defensive one; and he will show great skill in making it such; foraccording to my calculation, his enemies will be at least double hisnumber. Their troops, indeed, may perhaps be worse than his; but thentheir number will make up that defect, as it will enable them toundertake different operations at the same time. I cannot think that theKing of Denmark will take a part in the present war; which he cannot dowithout great possible danger; and he is well paid by France for hisneutrality; is safe, let what will turn out; and, in the meantime, carries on his commerce with great advantage and security; so that thatconsideration will not retard your visit to your own country, wheneveryou 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 pourmieux sauter', especially in the summer months; so that I would adviseyou to begin your journey in May, and continue your absence from the dearobject of your vows till after the dog-days, when love is said to beunwholesome. We have been disappointed at Martinico; I wish we may not beso at Guadaloupe, though we are landed there; for many difficulties mustbe got over before we can be in possession of the whole island. A pro posde bottes; you make use of two Spanish words, very properly, in yourletter; were I you, I would learn the Spanish language, if there were aSpaniard at Hamburg who could teach me; and then you would be master ofall the European languages that are useful; and, in my mind, it is veryconvenient, if not necessary, for a public man to understand them all, and not to be obliged to have recourse to an interpreter for those papersthat chance or business may throw in his way. I learned Spanish when Iwas 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 stilloftener incorrect, puzzling, and blundering. In short, let it be yourmaxim through life to know all you can know, yourself; and never to trustimplicitly to the informations of others. This rule has been of infiniteservice to me in the course of my life. 

I am rather better than I was; which I owe not to my physicians, but toan ass and a cow, who nourish me, between them, very plentifully andwholesomely; in the morning the ass is my nurse, at night the cow; and Ihave just now, bought a milch-goat, which is to graze, and nurse me atBlackheath. I do not know what may come of this latter, and I am notwithout apprehensions that it may make a satyr of me; but, should I findthat obscene disposition growing upon me, I will check it in time, forfear of endangering my life and character by rapes. And so we heartilybid you farewell. 

LETTER CCXLI

LONDON, March 30, 1759

MY DEAR FRIEND: I do not like these frequent, however short, returns ofyour illness; for I doubt they imply either want of skill in yourphysician, or want of care in his patient. Rhubarb, soap, and chalybeatemedicines and waters, are almost always specifics for obstructions of theliver; but then a very exact regimen is necessary, and that for a longcontinuance. Acids are good for you, but you do not love them; and sweetthings are bad for you, and you do love them. There is another thing verybad for you, and I fear you love it too much. When I was in Holland, Ihad 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 headded, 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 oneanother this spring, as I believe you will find, by a letter which youwill receive at the same time with this, from Lord Holderness; but asLord Holderness will not tell you all, I will, between you and me, supplythat defect. I must do him the justice to say that he has acted in themost kind and friendly manner possible to us both. When the King readyour letter, in which you desired leave to return, for the sake ofdrinking the Tunbridge waters, he said, "If he wants steel waters, thoseof Pyrmont are better than Tunbridge, and he can have them very fresh atHamburg. I would rather he had asked me to come last autumn, and hadpassed the winter here; for if he returns now, I shall have nobody inthose quarters to inform me of what passes; and yet it will be a verybusy and important scene. " Lord Holderness, who found that it would notbe liked, resolved to push it no further; and replied, he was very surethat when you knew his Majesty had the least objection to your return atthis time, you would think of it no longer; and he owned that he (LordHolderness) had given you encouragement for this application last year, then thinking and hoping that there would be little occasion for yourpresence at Hamburg this year. Lord Holderness will only tell you, in hisletter, that, as he had some reason to believe his moving this matterwould be disagreeable to the King, he resolved, for your sake, not tomention it. You must answer his letter upon that footing simply, andthank him for this mark of his friendship, for he has really acted asyour friend. I make no doubt of your having willing leave to return inautumn, for the whole winter. In the meantime, make the best of your'sejour' where you are; drink the Pyrmont waters, and no wine butRhenish, which, in your case is the only proper one for you. 

Next week Mr. Harte will send you his "Gustavus Adolphus, " in twoquartos; it will contain many new particulars of the life of that realhero, as he has had abundant and authentic materials, which have neveryet appeared. It will, upon the whole, be a very curious and valuablehistory; though, between you and me, I could have wished that he had beenmore correct and elegant in his style. You will find it dedicated to oneof your acquaintance, who was forced to prune the luxuriant praisesbestowed upon him, and yet has left enough of all conscience to satisfy areasonable man. Harte has been very much out of order these last three orfour months, but is not the less intent upon sowing his lucerne, of whichhe 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 somuch profit, by thirty or forty shillings; for there is the greatestpromise 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 expecthis protection from the birds and the thieves. 

Adieu! I will conclude like a pedant, 'Levius fit patientia quicquidcorrigere est nefas. '

LETTER CCXLII

LONDON, April 16, 1759

MY DEAR FRIEND: With humble submission to you, I still say that if PrinceFerdinand can make a defensive campaign this year, he will have done agreat deal, considering the great inequality of numbers. The littleadvantages of taking a regiment or two prisoners, or cutting another topieces, are but trifling articles in the great account; they are only thepence, the pounds are yet to come; and I take it for granted, thatneither the French, nor the Court of Vienna, will have 'le dementi' oftheir main object, which is unquestionably Hanover; for that is the'summa summarum'; and they will certainly take care to draw a forcetogether 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 auguremal'. If France, Austria, the Empire, Russia, and Sweden, are not, atlong run, too hard for the two Electors of Hanover and Brandenburg, theremust be some invisible power, some tutelar deities, that miraculouslyinterpose 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 itis an old and very true observation, that there are misers of money, butnone 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 nottake at all, and consequently sells very little: it is certainlyinforming, and full of good matter; but it is as certain too, that thestyle 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 ofLatinisms, Gallicisms, Germanisms, and all isms but Anglicisms; in someplaces pompous, in others vulgar and low. Surely, before the end of theworld, people, and you in particular, will discover that the MANNER, ineverything, is at least as important as the matter; and that the latternever can please, without a good degree of elegance in the former. Thisholds true in everything in life: in writing, conversing, business, thehelp of the Graces is absolutely necessary; and whoever vainly thinkshimself above them, will find he is mistaken when it will be too late tocourt them, for they will not come to strangers of an advanced age. Thereis an history lately come out, of the "Reign of Mary Queen of Scots" andher son (no matter by whom) King James, written by one Robertson, aScotchman, which for clearness, purity, and dignity of style, I will notscruple 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 forgranted, that it is to be had, or at least borrowed, at Hamburg, or Iwould send it to you. 

I hope you drink the Pyrmont waters every morning. The health of the minddepends so much upon the health of the body, that the latter deserves theutmost attention, independently of the senses. God send you a very greatshare of both! Adieu. 

LETTER CCXLIII

LONDON, April 27, 1759

MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received your two letters of the 10th and 13th, bythe last mail; and I will begin my answer to them, by observing to youthat a wise man, without being a Stoic, considers, in all misfortunesthat befall him, their best as well as their worst side; and everythinghas a better and a worse side. I have strictly observed that rule formany years, and have found by experience that some comfort is to beextracted, under most moral ills, by considering them in every light, instead of dwelling, as people are too apt to do, upon the gloomy side ofthe object. Thank God, the disappointment that you so pathetically groanunder, is not a calamity which admits of no consolation. Let us simplifyit, and see what it amounts to. You are pleased with the expectation ofcoming here next month, to see those who would have been pleased withseeing you. That, from very natural causes, cannot be, and you must passthis summer at Hamburg, and next winter in England, instead of passingthis summer in England, and next winter at Hamburg. Now, estimatingthings fairly, is not the change rather to your advantage? Is not thesummer more eligible, both for health and pleasure, than the winter, inthat northern frozen zone? And will not the winter in England supply youwith more pleasures than the summer, in an empty capital, could havedone? So far then it appears, that you are rather a gainer by yourmisfortune. 

The TOUR too, which you propose making to Lubeck, Altena, etc. , will bothamuse and inform you; for, at your age, one cannot see too many differentplaces and people; since at the age you are now of, I take it for grantedthat you will not see them superficially, as you did when you first wentabroad. 

This whole matter then, summed up, amounts to no more than this--that youwill be here next winter, instead of this summer. Do not think that all Ihave said is the consolation only of an old philosophical fellow, almostinsensible of pleasure or pain, offered to a young fellow who has quicksensations of both. No, it is the rational philosophy taught me byexperience and knowledge of the world, and which I have practiced abovethirty 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 havebeen an actor, with more pleasure and less pain than most people. Youwill say, perhaps, one cannot change one's nature; and that if a personis born of a very sensible, gloomy temper, and apt to see things in theworst light, they cannot help it, nor new-make themselves. I will admitit, to a certain degree; and but to a certain degree; for though wecannot totally change our nature, we may in a great measure correct it, by reflection and philosophy; and some philosophy is a very necessarycompanion in this world, where, even to the most fortunate, the chancesare greatly against happiness. 

I am not old enough, nor tenacious enough, to pretend not to understandthe main purport of your last letter; and to show you that I do, you maydraw upon me for two hundred pounds, which, I hope, will more than clearyou. 

Good-night: 'aquam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem': Be neithertransported 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 receivedyesterday, has quieted my fears a good deal, but has not entirelydissipated them. YOUR FEVER STILL CONTINUES, he says, THOUGH IN A LESSDEGREE. 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, whyhas not the bark, in substance and large doses, been administered? for ifit had, it must have stopped it by this time. Next post, I hope, will setme quite at ease. Surely you have not been so regular as you ought, either in your medicines or in your general regimen, otherwise this feverwould not have returned; for the Doctor calls it, YOUR FEVER RETURNED, asif 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 theprescriptions of your physician in medicines, and the rules of your owncommon 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 apound 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 maplace', and I know it, which is not given to everybody. Cut off fromsocial life by my deafness, as well as other physical ills, and being atbest but the ghost of my former self, I walk here in silence and solitudeas 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. Myhealth, however, is better than it was last year, thanks to my almosttotal milk diet. This enables me to vary my solitary amusements, andalternately 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 andactive life, now reduced (and I am not sure that I am a loser by thechange) to so quiet and serene a one, that it may properly be calledstill life. 

The French whisper in confidence, in order that it may be the more knownand the more credited, that they intend to invade us this year, in noless than three places; that is England, Scotland, and Ireland. Some ofour great men, like the devils, believe and tremble; others, and onelittle one whom I know, laugh at it; and, in general, it seems to be buta poor, instead of a formidable scarecrow. While somebody was at the headof a moderate army, and wanted (I know why) to be at the head of a greatone, intended invasions were made an article of political faith; and thebelief of them was required, as in the Church the belief of someabsurdities, and even impossibilities, is required upon pain of heresy, excommunication, and consequently damnation, if they tend to the powerand interest of the heads of the Church. But now that there is a generaltoleration, and that the best subjects, as well as the best Christians, may believe what their reasons find their consciences suggest, it isgenerally and rationally supposed the French will threaten and notstrike, since we are so well prepared, both by armies and fleets, toreceive 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, gaveme great satisfaction, being all in your own hand; though it containsgreat, and I fear just complaints of your ill state of health. You dovery 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 LordHolderness, to beg of him to obtain his Majesty's leave for you to returnto England for two or three months, upon account of your health. Two orthree months is an indefinite time, which may afterward insensiblystretched 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 whichbrought an account of our being in possession of the whole island. And Imake no manner of doubt but that, in about two months, we shall have asgood 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 Kingof 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 oryour 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 tohave written. Here the weather has been very fine for a fortnighttogether, a longer term than in this climate we are used to hold fineweather by. I hope it is so, too, at Hamburg, or at least at the villa towhich you are gone; but pray do not let it be your 'villa viciosa', asthose retirements are often called, and too often prove; though, by theway, the original name was 'villa vezzosa'; and by wags miscalled'viciosa'. 

I have a most gloomy prospect of affairs in Germany; the French arealready in possession of Cassel, and of the learned part of Hanover, thatis Gottingen; where I presume they will not stop 'pour l'amour des belleslettres', but rather go on to the capital, and study them upon the coin. My old acquaintance, Monsieur Richelieu, made a great progress there inmetallic learning and inscriptions. If Prince Ferdinand ventures a battleto prevent it, I dread the consequences; the odds are too great againsthim. The King of Prussia is still in a worse situation; for he has theHydra to encounter; and though he may cut off a head or two, there willstill be enough left to devour him at last. I have, as you know, longforetold the now approaching catastrophe; but I was Cassandra. Ouraffairs in the new world have a much more pleasing aspect; Guadaloupe isa great acquisition, and Quebec, which I make no doubt of, will still begreater. But must all these advantages, purchased at the price of so muchEnglish blood and treasure, be at last sacrificed as a peace-offering?God knows what consequences such a measure may produce; the germ ofdiscontent is already great, upon the bare supposition of the case; butshould it be realized, it will grow to a harvest of disaffection. 

You are now, to be sure, taking the previous necessary measures for yourreturn 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 chambreand 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 toHamburg again. If you are asked about it, say, like Lockhart, that youare 'le serviteur des Evenemens'; for your present appointments will doyou no hurt here, till you have some better destination. At that seasonof the year, I believe it will be better for you to come by sea than byland, but that you will be best able to judge of from the thencircumstances of your part in the world. 

Your old friend Stevens is dead of the consumption that has long beenundermining 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 finallysettled, and to say the truth, not sorry that Mr. ----has been compelledto do, 'de mauvaise grace', that which he might have done at first in afriendly 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 ofthe world, it is often necessary to seem ignorant of what one knows, andto have forgotten what one remembers. 

I have just now finished Coleman's play, and like it very well; it iswell conducted, and the characters are well preserved. I own, I expectedfrom the author more dialogue wit; but, as I know that he is a mostscrupulous classic, I believe he did not dare to put in half so much witas he could have done, because Terence had not a single grain; and itwould 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 Ifind any alterations by drinking these waters, now six days, it is ratherfor the better; but, in six days more, I think I shall find with morecertainty what humor they are in with me; if kind, I will profit of, butnot abuse their kindness; all things have their bounds, 'quos ultracitrave nequit consistere rectum'; and I will endeavor to nick thatpoint. 

The Queen's jointure is larger than, from SOME REASONS, I expected itwould be, though not greater than the very last precedent authorized. Thecase of the late Lord Wilmington was, I fancy, remembered. 

I have now good reason to believe that Spain will declare war to us, thatis, that it will very soon, if it has not already, avowedly assistFrance, in case the war continues. This will be a great triumph to Mr. Pitt, and fully justify his plan of beginning with Spain first, andhaving the first blow, which is often half the battle. 

Here is a great deal of company, and what is commonly called goodcompany, that is, great quality. I trouble them very little, except atthe 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 inher 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 amnot very apt to be: but it was really for want of specie to pay. Thepresent state of my invention does not enable me to coin; and you wouldhave had as little pleasure in reading, as I should have in writing 'lecoglionerie' of this place; besides, that I am very little mingled inthem. I do not know whether I shall be able to follow, your advice, andcut a winner; for, at present, I have neither won nor lost a singleshilling. I will play on this week only; and if I have a good run, I willcarry it off with me; if a bad one, the loss can hardly amount toanything considerable in seven days, for I hope to see you in townto-morrow sevennight. 

I had a dismal letter from Harte, last week; he tells me that he is atnurse with a sister in Berkshire; that he has got a confirmed jaundice, besides twenty other distempers. The true cause of these complaints Itake to be the same that so greatly disordered, and had nearly destroyedthe most august House of Austria, about one hundred and thirty years ago;I mean Gustavus Adolphus; who neither answered his expectations in pointof profit nor reputation, and that merely by his own fault, in notwriting it in the vulgar tongue; for as to facts I will maintain that itis 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 asI feared I should be when I saw you. Head, stomach, and limbs, all out oforder. 

I have yet seen nobody but Villettes, who is settled here for good, as itis called. What consequences has the Duke of Devonshire's resignationhad? He has considerable connections and relations; but whether any ofthem are resigned enough to resign with him, is another matter. Therewill be, to be sure, as many, and as absurd reports, as there are in thelaw books; I do not desire to know either; but inform me of what factscome to your knowledge, and of such reports only as you believe aregrounded. And so God bless you!

LETTER CCLI

BATH, November 13, 1762. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received your letter, and believe that yourpreliminaries are very near the mark; and, upon that supposition, I thinkwe have made a tolerable good bargain with Spain; at least full as goodas I expected, and almost as good as I wished, though I do not believethat we have got ALL Florida; but if we have St. Augustin, I supposethat, by the figure of 'pars pro toto', will be called all Florida. Wehave by no means made so good a bargain with France; for, in truth, whatdo we get by it, except Canada, with a very proper boundary of the riverMississippi! and that is all. As for the restrictions upon the Frenchfishery in Newfoundland, they are very well 'per la predica', and for theCommissary whom we shall employ: for he will have a good salary fromhence, to see that those restrictions are complied with; and the Frenchwill 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 wasbefore the war. 

The three Leeward islands, which the French yield to us, are not, alltogether, worth half so much as that of St. Lucia, which we give up tothem. Senegal is not worth one quarter of Goree. The restrictions of theFrench in the East Indies are as absurd and impracticable as those ofNewfoundland; and you will live to see the French trade to the EastIndies, just as they did before the war. But after all I have said, thearticles are as good as I expected with France, when I considered that noone single person who carried on this negotiation on our parts was everconcerned or consulted in any negotiation before. Upon the whole, then, the acquisition of Canada has cost us fourscore millions sterling. I amconvinced we might have kept Guadaloupe, if our negotiators had known howto 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 onemoidore in defense of it. Spain, thank God, in some measure, 'paye lespots cassis'; for, besides St. Augustin, logwood, etc. , it has lost atleast 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 lamentsthat he has frequent fits of the yellow jaundice. He complains of his nothaving heard from you these four years; you should write to him. Thesewaters have done me a great deal of good, though I drink but two-thirdsof a pint in the whole day, which is less than the soberest of mycountrymen drink of claret at every meal. 

I should naturally think, as you do, that this session will be a stormyone, that is, if Mr. Pitt takes an active part; but if he is pleased, asthe Ministers say, there is no other AEolus to blow a storm. The Dukes ofCumberland, Newcastle, and Devonshire, have no better troops to attackwith 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 theball 'a la volee'. The King's speech is a very prudent one; and as Isuppose that the addresses in answer to it were, as usual, in almost thesame words, my Lord Mayor might very well call them innocent. As hisMajesty expatiates so much upon the great ACHIEVEMENTS of the war, Icannot help hoping that, when the preliminaries shall be laid beforeParliament IN DUE TIME, which, I suppose, means after the respectiveratifications of all the contracting parties, that some untalked of andunexpected 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, inour treaty with Spain; which is, that we shall be at liberty to cutlogwood in the Bay of Campeachy, BUT BY PAYING FOR IT. Who does not seethat this condition may, and probably will, amount to a prohibition, bythe 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 logwoodgratis; but this new stipulation (if true) gives us a privilege somethinglike 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; butas I bathe but twice a-week, that operation, which does my rheumaticcarcass 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, heshould translate into English, or it will not sell better than theformer; 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 inclosedpreliminaries, which we have had here these three days; and I returnthem, since you intend to keep them, which is more than I believe theFrench will. I am very glad to find that the French are to restore allthe conquests they made upon us in the East Indies during this war; and Icannot doubt but they will likewise restore to us all the cod that theyshall 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 strongopposition to the peace will be in the House of Lords, though I cannotwell conceive it; nor can I make out above six or seven, who will beagainst it upon a division, unless (which I cannot suppose) some of theBishops 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 veryclear account of the debate in your House. It is impossible for a humancreature to speak well for three hours and a half; I question even ifBelial, 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 thePreliminaries; for he is infinitely above having an opinion. LordEgremont 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, theablest head in England dies too, take it for all in all. 

I shall be in town, barring accidents, this day sevennight, bydinnertime; when I have ordered a haricot, to which you will be verywelcome, about four o'clock. 'En attendant Dieu vous aye dans sa saintegarde'!

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; Ifind he has been very civil to you. You are in the right to stop for twoor 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 notyour own servants to do it. 

Nothing new of any kind has happened here since you went; so I will wishyou 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 Iam glad that you are arrived safe. You are, I find, over head and earsengaged in ceremony and etiquette. You must not yield in anythingessential, where your public character may suffer; but I advise you, atthe same time, to distinguish carefully what may, and what may not affectit, and to despise some German 'minutiae'; such as one step lower orhigher 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 winecompensates the quantity, as the cheapness of servants compensates thenumber that you must make use of. 

Write to your mother often, if it be but three words, to prove yourexistence; for, when she does not hear from you, she knows to ademonstration that you are dead, if not buried. 

The inclosed is a letter of the utmost consequence, which I was desiredto 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 atRatisbon, at least as to the important points of the ceremonial; so thatyou may know, to precision, to whom you must give, and from whom you mustrequire 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 quiteaside. 

I have lately had an attack of a new complaint, which I have longsuspected 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 afit of the stone or gravel. It was, thank God, but a slight one; but itwas '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 soonconvinced of my mistake, by making water much blacker than coffee, with aprodigious sediment of gravel. I am now perfectly easy again, and have nomore indications of this complaint. 

God keep you from that and deafness! Other complaints are the common, andalmost 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 LordEgremont died two days ago of an apoplexy; which, from his figure, andthe constant plethora he lived in, was reasonably to be expected. Youwill ask me, who is to be Secretary in his room: To which I answer, thatI do not know. I should guess Lord Sandwich, to be succeeded in theAdmiralty by Charles Townshend; unless the Duke of Bedford, who seems tohave 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 moreefficient ones of the opposition. 

I see by the newspapers, as well as by your letter, that the difficultiesstill exist about your ceremonial at Ratisbon; should they, from prideand folly, prove insuperable, and obstruct your real business, there isone expedient which may perhaps remove difficulties, and which I haveoften known practiced; but which I believe our people know here nothingof; it is, to have the character of MINISTER only in your ostensibletitle, and that of envoy extraordinary in your pocket, to produceoccasionally, especially if you should be sent to any of the Electors inyour neighborhood; or else, in any transactions that you may have, inwhich your title of envoy extraordinary may create great difficulties, tohave a reversal given you, declaring that the temporary suspension ofthat character, 'ne donnera pas la moindre atteinte ni a vos droits, ni avos 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, andthe conference lasted a full hour; on the Monday following anotherconference, which lasted much longer; and yesterday a third, longer thaneither. 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 countryhouses. Would you know what it broke off upon, you must ask thenewsmongers, and the coffee-houses; who, I dare say, know it all veryminutely; 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 partyasked too much, and the other would grant too little. However, the King'sdignity was not, in my mind, much consulted by their making him soleplenipotentiary of a treaty, which they were not in all events determinedto 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 tobe taken. 

However, 'ce qui est differe n'est pas perdu'; for this matter must betaken up again, and concluded before the meeting of the parliament, andprobably upon more disadvantageous terms to the present Ministers, whohave tacitly admitted, by this negotiation, what their enemies haveloudly 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 marriedpeople; that is, I have fixed the separation between my brother and hiswife; and the definitive treaty of peace will be proclaimed in about afortnight; for the only solid and lasting peace, between a man and hiswife, 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, assenior, had of course his choice, and chose the southern, upon account ofthe colonies. The Ministry, such as it is, is now settled 'en attendantmieux'; but, in, my opinion cannot, as they are, meet the parliament. 

The only, and all the efficient people they have, are in the House ofLords: 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 haseither abilities or words enough to call a coach. Lord B----is certainlyplaying '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 domost 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 usefulbooks; and, what is still more useful, conversing with yourself some partof every day. Lord Shaftesbury recommends self-conversation to allauthors; and I would recommend it to all men; they would be the betterfor it. Some people have not time, and fewer have inclination, to enterinto that conversation; nay, very many dread it, and fly to the mosttrifling dissipations, in order to avoid it; but, if a man would allothalf an hour every night for this self-conversation, and recapitulatewith himself whatever he has done, right or wrong, in the course of theday, he would be both the better and the wiser for it. My deafness givesme more than a sufficient time for self-conversation; and I have foundgreat advantages from it. My brother and Lady Stanhope are at lastfinally parted. I was the negotiator between them; and had so muchtrouble in it, that I would much rather negotiate the most difficultpoint of the 'jus publicum Sacri Romani Imperii' with the whole Diet ofRatisbon, than negotiate any point with any woman. If my brother had hadsome of those self-conversations, which I recommend, he would not, Ibelieve, at past sixty, with a crazy, battered constitution, and deafinto the bargain, have married a young girl, just turned of twenty, fullof health, and consequently of desires. But who takes warning by the fateof 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 thatyou would be sent over, for the first day of the session; as I never knewa stricter muster, and no furloughs allowed. I am very sorry for it, forthe 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 yourrule in every thing for the rest of your life. Avoid disagreeable thingsas much as by dexterity you can; but when they are unavoidable, do themwith seeming willingness and alacrity. Though this journey is ill-timedfor you in many respects, yet, in point of FINANCES, you will be a gainerby it upon the whole; for, depend upon it, they will keep you here tillthe very last day of the session: and I suppose you have sold yourhorses, and dismissed some of your servants. Though they seem toapprehend the first day of the session so much, in my opinion theirdanger will be much greater in the course of it. 

When you are at Paris, you will of course wait upon Lord Hertford, anddesire him to present you to the King; at the same time make mycompliments to him, and thank him for the very obliging message he leftat my house in town; and tell him, that, had I received it in time fromthence, I would have come to town on purpose to have returned it inperson. If there are any new little books at Paris, pray bring them me. Ihave already Voltaire's 'Zelis dans le Bain', his 'Droit du Seigneur', and 'Olympie'. Do not forget to call once at Madame Monconseil's, and asoften 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, lastSunday; but after the worst day's journey I ever had in my life: itsnowed and froze that whole morning, and in the evening it rained andthawed, which made the roads so slippery, that I was six hours comingpost 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. Ihave not yet quite got over my last violent attack, and am weak andflimsy. 

I have now drank the waters but three days; so that, without a miracle, Icannot yet expect much alteration, and I do not in the least expect amiracle. If they proved 'les eaux de Jouvence' to me, that would be amiracle indeed; but, as the late Pope Lambertini said, 'Fra noi, glimiracoli sono passati girt un pezzo'. 

I have seen Harte, who inquired much after you: he is dejected anddispirited, and thinks himself much worse than he is, though he hasreally a tendency to the jaundice. I have yet seen nobody else, nor do Iknow who here is to be seen; for I have not yet exhibited myself topublic view, except at the pump, which, at the time I go to it, is themost private place in Bath. 

After all the fears and hopes, occasioned severally by the meeting of theparliament, in my opinion, it will prove a very easy session. Mr. Wilkesis universally given up; and if the ministers themselves do not wantonlyraise difficulties, I think they will meet with none. A majority of twohundred 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. Isuppose C-----T-----let off his speech upon the Princess's portion, chiefly to show that he was of the opposition; for otherwise, the pointwas not debatable, unless as to the quantum, against which somethingmight be said; for the late Princess of Orange (who was the eldestdaughter of a king) had no more, and her two sisters but half, if I amnot mistaken. 

It is a great mercy that Mr. Wilkes, the intrepid defender of our rightsand liberties, is out of danger, and may live to fight and write again insupport of them; and it is no less a mercy, that God hath raised up theEarl of S------to vindicate and promote true religion and morality. Thesetwo blessings will justly make an epoch in the annals of this country. 

I have delivered your message to Harte, who waits with impatience foryour letter. He is very happy now in having free access to all LordCraven's papers, which, he says, give him great lights into the 'bellumtricenale'; the old Lord Craven having been the professed and valorousknight-errant, and perhaps something more, to the Queen of Bohemia; atleast, like Sir Peter Pride, he had the honor of spending great part ofhis estate in her royal cause:

I am by no means right yet; I am very weak and flimsy still; but thedoctor 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 notmake their want still worse by grieving and regretting them. I have livedlong enough, and observed enough, to estimate most things at theirintrinsic, and not their imaginary value; and, at seventy, I find nothingmuch worth either desiring or fearing. But these reflections, which suitwith seventy, would be greatly premature at two-and-thirty. So make thebest of your time; enjoy the present hour, but 'memor ultimae'. God blessyou!

LETTER CCLXIV

BATH, December 18, 1763

MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter this morning, in which youreproach 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 lifehere, 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 yourimage of the two men ruined, one by losing his law-suit, and the other bycarrying it, is a very just one. To be sure, they felt in themselvesuncommon talents for business and speaking, which were to reimburse them. 

Harte has a great poetical work to publish, before it be long; he hasshown me some parts of it. He had entitled it "Emblems, " but I persuadedhim to alter that name for two reasons; the first was, because they werenot 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 isimpossible 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 askme 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; forit still runs strongly in my head, that the mine we talked of will besprung, at or before the end of the session. 

I have got a little more strength, but not quite the strength ofHercules; so that I will not undertake, like him, fifty deflorations inone night; for I really believe that I could not compass them. Sogood-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 sostrongly to influence Parson Rosenhagen, when you well know theresolution I had made several years ago, and which I have scrupulouslyobserved ever since, not to concern myself, directly or indirectly, inany party political contest whatsoever. Let parties go to loggerheads asmuch 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 veryglad of it, and he can by no means impute to you my obstinacy, folly, orphilosophy, 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 acold; should it be anything more, pray consult Dr. Maty, who did you somuch good in your last illness, when the great medicinal Mattadores didyou rather harm. I have found a Monsieur Diafoirus here, Dr. Moisy, whohas really done me a great deal of good; and I am sure I wanted it agreat deal when I came here first. I have recovered some strength, and alittle more will give me as much as I can make use of. 

Lady Brown, whom I saw yesterday, makes you many compliments; and I wishyou 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 werelaid up with the gout: but I much question it, that is, whether it is thegout or not. Your last illness, before you went abroad, was pronouncedthe gout, by the skillful, and proved at last a mere rheumatism. Takecare that the same mistake is not made this year; and that by giving youstrong and hot medicines to throw out the gout, they do not inflame therheumatism, if it be one. 

Mr. Wilkes has imitated some of the great men of antiquity, by going intovoluntary exile: it was his only way of defeating both his creditors andhis prosecutors. Whatever his friends, if he has any, give out of hisreturning soon, I will answer for it, that it will be a long time beforethat soon comes. 

I have been much out of order these four days of a violent cold which Ido not know how I got, and which obliged me to suspend drinking thewaters: but it is now so much better, that I propose resuming them forthis week, and paying my court to you in town on Monday or Tuesdayseven-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 fromPrague, but I never received that which you mention from Ratisbon; thismade me think you in such rapid motion, that I did not know where to takeaim. I now suppose that you are arrived, though not yet settled, atDresden; your audiences and formalities are, to be sure, over, and thatis great ease of mind to you. 

I have no political events to acquaint you with; the summer is not theseason for them, they ripen only in winter; great ones are expectedimmediately before the meeting of parliament, but that, you know, isalways the language of fears and hopes. However, I rather believe thatthere will be something patched up between the INS and the OUTS. 

The whole subject of conversation, at present, is the death and will ofLord Bath: he has left above twelve hundred thousand pounds in land andmoney; four hundred thousand pounds in cash, stocks, and mortgages; hisown estate, in land, was improved to fifteen thousand pounds a-year, andthe Bradford estate, which he-----is as much; both which, at onlyfive-and twenty years' purchase, amount to eight hundred thousand pounds;and all this he has left to his brother, General Pulteney, and in his owndisposal, though he never loved him. The legacies he has left aretrifling; for, in truth, he cared for nobody: the words GIVE and BEQUEATHwere too shocking for him to repeat, and so he left all in one word tohis brother. The public, which was long the dupe of his simulation anddissimulation, begins to explain upon him; and draws such a picture ofhim as I gave you long ago. 

Your late secretary has been with me three or four times; he wantssomething or another, and it seems all one to him what, whether civil ormilitary; in plain English, he wants bread. He has knocked at the doorsof some of the ministers, but to no purpose. I wish with all my heartthat I could help him: I told him fairly that I could not, but advisedhim to find some channel to Lord B-----, which, though a Scotchman, hetold me he could not. He brought a packet of letters from the office toyou, which I made him seal up; and keep it for you, as I suppose it makesup the series of your Ratisbon letters. 

As for me, I am just what I was when you left me, that is, nobody. Oldage steals upon me insensibly. I grow weak and decrepit, but do notsuffer, 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; andso good-night to 'seine Excellentz'. 

Now our correspondence may be more regular, and I expect a letter fromyou every fortnight. I will be regular on my part: but write oftener toyour 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 fromDresden, where I am very glad that, you are safely arrived at last. Theprices of the necessaries of life are monstrous there; and I do notconceive how the poor natives subsist at all, after having been so longand so often plundered by their own as well as by other sovereigns. 

As for procuring you either the title or the appointments ofPlenipotentiary, I could as soon procure them from the Turkish as fromthe 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 withgreat: I think I have found out a better refreshment for it than youpropose; for to-morrow I shall send to your cashier, Mr. Larpent, fivehundred pounds at once, for your use, which, I presume, is better than byquarterly 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 thequeen of Hungary has acceded to the Family Compact between France andSpain: if so, I am sure it behooves us to form in time a counteralliance, of at least equal strength; which I could easily point out, butwhich, I fear, is not thought of here. 

The rage of marrying is very prevalent; so that there will be probably agreat crop of cuckolds next winter, who are at present only 'cocus enherbs'. It will contribute to population, and so far must be allowed tobe a public benefit. Lord G------, Mr. B-------, and Mr. D-------, are, in this respect, very meritorious; for they have all married handsomewomen, without one shilling fortune. Lord must indeed take some pains toarrive at that dignity: but I dare say he will bring it about, by thehelp of some young Scotch or Irish officer. Good-night, and God blessyou!

LETTER CCLXIX

BLACKHEATH, September 3, 1764. 

DEAR FRIEND: I have received your letter of the 13th past. I see thatyour complete arrangement approaches, and you need not be in a hurry togive entertainments, since so few others do. 

Comte Flemming is the man in the world the best calculated to retrievethe Saxon finances, which have been all this century squandered andlavished with the most absurd profusion: he has certainly abilities, andI believe integrity; I dare answer for him, that the gentleness andflexibility of his temper will not prevail with him to yield to theimportunities of craving and petulant applications. I see in him anotherSully; 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 ampersuaded, will not quarrel with us till it has got a navy at least equalto 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 isthe moment for us to speak loud; and we shall be feared, if we do notshow 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 theparliament sits. I think there will be some then, but of what kind, Godknows. 

I have received a book for you, and one for myself, from Harte. It isupon agriculture, and will surprise you, as I confess it did me. Thiswork is not only in English, but good and elegant English; he has evenscattered graces upon his subject; and in prose, has come very nearVirgil's "Georgics" in verse. I have written to him, to congratulate hishappy transformation. As soon as I can find an opportunity, I will sendyou 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 ComtesseFlemming; 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, bywhich I find that you had not then got mine, which I sent you the dayafter 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 nomaterials for a letter; the winter may, and probably will, produce anabundant crop, but of what grain I neither know, guess, nor care. I takeit for granted, that Lord B------'surnagera encore', but by theassistance of what bladders or cork-waistcoats God only knows. The deathof poor Mr. Legge, the epileptic fits of the Duke of Devonshire, forwhich he is gone to Aix-la-Chapelle, and the advanced age of the Duke ofNewcastle, seem to facilitate an accommodation, if Mr. Pitt and Lord Buteare inclined to it. 

You ask me what I think of the death of poor Iwan, and of the person whoordered it. You may remember that I often said, she would murder or marryhim, or probably both; she has chosen the safest alternative; and has nowcompleted her character of femme forte, above scruples and hesitation. IfMachiavel were alive, she would probably be his heroine, as Caesar Borgiawas his hero. Women are all so far Machiavelians, that they are nevereither good or bad by halves; their passions are too strong, and theirreason 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 willprobably, for the sake of his dear country, depose and murder her; forthat is one and the same thing in Russia. 

You seem now to have settled, and 'bien nippe' at Dresden. Four sedentaryfootmen, and one running one, 'font equipage leste'. The German ones willgive you, 'seine Excellentz'; and the French ones, if you have any, Monseigneur. 

My own health varies, as usual, but never deviates into good. God blessyou, and send you better!

LETTER CCLXXI

BLACKHEATH, October 4, 1764. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now your last letter, of the 16th past, lyingbefore me, and I gave your inclosed to Grevenkop, which has put him intoa violent bustle to execute your commissions, as well and as cheap aspossible. I refer him to his own letter. He tells you true as to ComtesseCosel's diamonds, which certainly nobody will buy here, unsight unseen, as they call it; so many minutiae concurring to increase or lessen thevalue of a diamond. Your Cheshire cheese, your Burton ale and beer, Icharge myself with, and they shall be sent you as soon as possible. Uponthis occasion I will give you a piece of advice, which by experience Iknow to be useful. In all commissions, whether from men or women, 'pointde galanterie', bring them in your account, and be paid to the uttermostfarthing; but if you would show them 'une galanterie', let your presentbe of something that is not in your commission, otherwise you will be the'Commissionaire banal' of all the women of Saxony. 'A propos', Who isyour Comtesse de Cosel? Is she daughter, or grand-daughter, of the famousMadame de Cosel, in King Augustus's time? Is she young or old, ugly orhandsome?

I do not wonder that people are wonderfully surprised at our tameness andforbearance, with regard to France and Spain. Spain, indeed, has latelyagreed to our cutting log wood, according to the treaty, and sent strictorders to their governor to allow it; but you will observe too, thatthere is not one word of reparation for the losses we lately sustainedthere. But France is not even so tractable; it will pay but half themoney due, upon a liquidated account, for the maintenance of theirprisoners. Our request, to have the Comte d'Estaing recalled andcensured, they have absolutely rejected, though, by the laws of war, hemight be hanged for having twice broke his parole. This does not doFrance honor: however, I think we shall be quiet, and that at the onlytime, perhaps this century, when we might, with safety, be otherwise: butthis is nothing new, nor the first time, by many, when national honor andinterest have been sacrificed to private. It has always been so: and onemay say, upon this occasion, what Horace says upon another, 'Nam fuitante Helenam'. 

I have seen 'les Contes de Guillaume Vade', and like most of them solittle, that I can hardly think them Voltaire's, but rather the scrapsthat 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 weatherhere being very cold and damp, and not proper for an old, shattered, andcold carcass, like mine. In November I will go to the Bath, to careenmyself 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 inparliament, during the remainder of it, upon a valuable consideration, meaning MONEY. My answer was, that I really did not know your dispositionupon 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, tomy knowledge, had cost you two thousand pounds; that this parliament hadnot sat above half its time; and that, for my part, I approved of themeasure well enough, provided you had an equitable equivalent. I take itfor granted that you will have a letter from------, by this post, to thateffect, so that you must consider what you will do. What I advise isthis: Give them a good deal of 'Galbanum' in the first part of yourletter. 'Le Galbanum ne coute rien'; and then say that you are willing todo as they please; but that you hope an equitable consideration will behad to the two thousand pounds, which your seat cost you in the presentparliament, of which not above half the term is expired. Moreover, thatyou 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 ofthree or four hundred pounds, for which you were allowed nothing; andthat, therefore, you hope they will not think one thousand pounds toomuch, considering all these circumstances: but that, in all events, youwill do whatever they desire. Upon the whole, I think this proposaladvantageous to you, as you probably will not make use of your seat thisparliament; and, further, as it will secure you from another unpaidjourney from Dresden, in case they meet, or fear to meet, withdifficulties in any ensuing session of the present parliament. Whateverone 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 ofyourself, in your last letter. There is, to be sure, at such a town asDresden, at least some one very skillful physician, whom I hope you haveconsulted; and I would have you acquaint him with all your severalattacks of this nature, from your great one at Laubach, to your late oneat Dresden: tell him, too, that in your last illness in England, thephysicians 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, youhave never had the gout, but always the rheumatism; which, to myknowledge, is as painful as the gout can possibly be, and should betreated in a quite different way; that is, by cooling medicines andregimen, instead of those inflammatory cordials which they alwaysadminister where they suppose the gout, to keep it, as they say, out ofthe stomach. 

I have been here now just a week; but have hitherto drank so little ofthe water, that I can neither speak well nor ill of it. The number ofpeople in this place is infinite; but very few whom I know. Harte seemssettled here for life. He is not well, that is certain; but not so illneither 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 asyour former had given me uneasiness; and Larpent's acknowledgment of hisnegligence frees you from those suspicions, which I own I did entertain, and which I believe every one would, in the same concurrence ofcircumstances, have entertained. So much for that. 

You may depend upon what I promised you, before midsummer next, atfarthest, and AT LEAST. 

All I can say of the affair between you, of the Corps Diplomatique, andthe Saxon Ministers, is, 'que voila bien du bruit pour une omelette aulard'. It will most certainly be soon made up; and in that negotiationshow yourself as moderate and healing as your instructions from hencewill allow, especially to Comte de Flemming. The King of Prussia, Ibelieve, has a mind to insult him personally, as an old enemy, or else toquarrel with Saxony, that dares not quarrel with him; but some of theCorps Diplomatique here assure me it is only a pretense to recall hisenvoy, and to send, when matters shall be made up, a little secretarythere, '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 verymuch '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 3dinstant. I find that your important affair of the ceremonial is adjustedat last, as I foresaw it would be. Such minutiae are often laid hold onas a pretense, for powers who have a mind to quarrel; but are nevertenaciously insisted upon where there is neither interest nor inclinationto break. Comte Flemming, though a hot, is a wise man; and I was surewould not break, both with England and Hanover, upon so trifling a point, especially during a minority. 'A propos' of a minority; the King is tocome to the House to-morrow, to recommend a bill to settle a Regency, incase of his demise while his successor is a minor. Upon the King's lateillness, which was no trifling one, the whole nation cried out aloud forsuch a bill, for reasons which will readily occur to you, who knowsituations, persons, and characters here. I do not know the particularsof this intended bill; but I wish it may be copied exactly from thatwhich was passed in the late King's time, when the present King was aminor. I am sure there cannot be a better. 

You inquire about Monsieur de Guerchy's affair; and I will give you assuccinct an account as I can of so extraordinary and perplexed atransaction: but without giving you my own opinion of it by the commonpost. You know what passed at first between Mr. De Guerchy and Monsieurd'Eon, in which both our Ministers and Monsieur de Guerchy, from utterinexperience in business, puzzled themselves into disagreeabledifficulties. About three or four months ago, Monsieur du Vergy publishedin a brochure, a parcel of letters, from himself to the Duc de Choiseul;in which he positively asserts that Monsieur de Guerchy prevailed withhim (Vergy) to come over into England to assassinate d'Eon; the wordsare, as well as I remember, 'que ce n'etoit pas pour se servir de saplume, mais de son epee, qu'on le demandoit en Angleterre'. Thisaccusation of assassination, you may imagine, shocked Monsieur deGuerchy, who complained bitterly to our Ministers; and they both puzzledon for some time, without doing anything, because they did not know whatto do. At last du Vergy, about two months ago, applied himself to theGrand Jury of Middlesex, and made oath that Mr. De Guerchy had hired him(du Vergy) to assassinate d'Eon. Upon this deposition, the Grand juryfound 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 actuallyprosecuting du Vergy. Whether the King can grant a 'noli prosequi' in acriminal case, and whether 'le droit des gens' extends to criminal cases, are two points which employ our domestic politicians, and the whole CorpsDiplomatique. 'Enfin', to use a very coarse and vulgar saying, 'il y a dela merde au bout du baton, quelque part'. 

I see and hear these storms from shore, 'suave mari magno', etc. I enjoymy own security and tranquillity, together with better health than I hadreason to expect at my age, and with my constitution: however, I feel agradual 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, Ineither know nor care, for I am very weary. God bless you!

Mallet died two days ago, of a diarrhoea, which he had carried with himto 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 hourlyexpectation of informing you of the birth of a new Ministry; but in vain;for, after a thousand conferences, all things remain still in the statewhich I described to you in my last. Lord S. Has, I believe, given you apretty true account of the present state of things; but my Lord is muchmistaken, I am persuaded, when he says that THE KING HAS THOUGHT PROPERTO RE-ESTABLISH HIS OLD SERVANTS IN THE MANAGEMENT OF HIS AFFAIRS; for heshows them all the public dislike possible; and, at his levee, hardlyspeaks 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 themain subject, but impossible, for me at least, to know the particulars;but this I will venture to prophesy, that the whole will soon centre inMr. Pitt. 

You seem not to know the character of the Queen: here it is. She is agood woman, a good wife, a tender mother; and an unmeddling Queen. TheKing loves her as a woman; but, I verily believe, has never yet spoke oneword to her about business. I have now told you all that I know of theseaffairs; which, I believe, is as much as anybody else knows, who is notin the secret. In the meantime, you easily guess that surmises, conjectures, and reports are infinite; and if, as they say, truth is butone, one million at least of these reports must be false; for they differexceedingly. 

You have lost an honest servant by the death of poor Louis; I wouldadvise you to take a clever young Saxon in his room, of whose characteryou 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 meagain, as soon as I had anything more to write; and now I have too muchto write, therefore will refer you to the "Gazette, " and the officeletters, for all that has been done; and advise you to suspend youropinion, as I do, about all that is to be done. Many more changes aretalked of, but so idly, and variously, that I give credit to none ofthem. There has been pretty clean sweeping already; and I do notremember, in my time, to have seen so much at once, as an entire newBoard of Treasury, and two new Secretaries of State, 'cum multis aliis', etc. 

Here is a new political arch almost built, but of materials of sodifferent a nature, and without a key-stone, that it does not, in myopinion, indicate either strength or duration. It will certainly requirerepairs, and a key-stone next winter; and that key-stone will, and mustnecessarily be, Mr. Pitt. It is true he might have been that keystonenow; and would have accepted it, but not without Lord Temple's consent, and Lord Temple positively refused. There was evidently some trick inthis, but what is past my conjecturing. 'Davus sum, non OEdipus'. 

There is a manifest interregnum in the Treasury; for I do suppose thatLord Rockingham and Mr. Dowdeswell will not think proper to be veryactive. General Conway, who is your Secretary, has certainly parts atleast equal to his business, to which, I dare say, he will apply. Thesame may be said, I believe, of the Duke of Grafton; and indeed there isno magic requisite for the executive part of those employments. Theministerial part is another thing; they must scramble with theirfellow-servants, for power and favor, as well as they can. Foreignaffairs are not so much as mentioned, and, I verily believe, not thoughtof. But surely some counterbalance would be necessary to the Familycompact; 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 gouthas been the cause of your contracting that debt. When you are not ableto write yourself, let your Secretary send me two or three lines toacquaint me how you are. 

You have now seen by the London "Gazette, " what changes have really beenmade at court; but, at the same time, I believe you have seen that theremust be more, before a Ministry can be settled; what those will be, Godknows. Were I to conjecture, I should say that the whole will centre, before it is long, in Mr. Pitt and Co. , the present being anheterogeneous jumble of youth and caducity, which cannot be efficient. 

Charles Townshend calls the present a Lutestring Ministry; fit only forthe 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 ofthe OUTS. 

I feel this beginning of the autumn, which is already very cold: theleaves are withered, fall apace, and seem to intimate that I must followthem; which I shall do without reluctance, being extremely weary of thissilly 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 2dinstant. 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 veryjust one; and that they have not yet the true seal of the covenant is, Idare say, very true; at least it is not in the possession of either ofthe 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 theLord Privy Seal. I own I am lost, in considering the present situation ofaffairs; different conjectures present themselves to my mind, but nonethat it can rest upon. The next session must necessarily clear up mattersa good deal; for I believe it will be the warmest and most acrimoniousone that has been known, since that of the Excise. The late Ministry, THEPRESENT OPPOSITION, are determined to attack Lord B-----publicly inparliament, and reduce the late Opposition, THE PRESENT MINISTRY, toprotect him publicly, in consequence of their supposed treaty with him. 'En attendant mieux', the paper war is carried on with much fury andscurrility on all sides, to the great entertainment of such lazy andimpartial people as myself: I do not know whether you have the "DailyAdvertiser, " and the "Public Advertiser, " in which all political lettersare inserted, and some very well-written ones on both sides; but I knowthat they amuse me, 'tant bien que mal', for an hour or two everymorning. 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 byno means satisfied with the present arrangement, may have assisted himprivately. As to this latter, there was a good ridiculous paragraph inthe newspapers two or three days ago. WE HEAR THAT THE RIGHT HONORABLEMR. C-----T------IS INDISPOSED AT HIS HOUSE IN OXFORDSHIRE, OF A PAIN INHIS 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, itmay be expensive, 'mais on trouvera moyen'. As for the lady, if youshould be very sharp set for some English flesh, she has it amply in herpower to supply you if she pleases. Pray tell me in your next, what youthink 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 bea very just one, lowers the King of Prussia's a great deal; and probablythat is the cause of their being so ill together. But the King ofPrussia, with his good parts, should reflect upon that trite and truemaxim, 'Qui invidet minor', or Mr. De la Rouchefoucault's, 'Que l'envieest la plus basse de toutes les passions, puisqu'on avoue bien descrimes, mais que personae n'avoue l'envie'. I thank God, I never wassensible of that dark and vile passion, except that formerly I havesometimes envied a successful rival with a fine woman. But now that causeis 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, thepresent accuse the late ones with having done much worse than nothing. Their writers abuse one another most scurrilously, but sometimes withwit. I look upon this to be 'peloter en attendant partie', till battlebegins in St. , Stephen's Chapel. How that will end, I protest I cannotconjecture; any farther than this, that if Mr. Pitt does not come intothe assistance of the present ministers, they will have much to do tostand their ground. C-----T------will play booty; and who else have they?Nobody but C-----, who has only good sense, but not the necessary talentsnor experience, 'AEre ciere viros martemque accendere cantu'. I neverremember, in all my time, to have seen so problematical a state ofaffairs, and a man would be much puzzled which side to bet on. 

Your guest, Miss C-----, is another problem which I cannot solve. She nomore wanted the waters of Carlsbadt than you did. Is it to show the Dukeof Kingston that he cannot live without her? a dangerous experiment!which may possibly convince him that he can. There is a trick no doubt init; but what, I neither know nor care; you did very well to show hercivilities, '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 bathingthan of drinking. The hot bath always promotes my perspiration, which issluggish, and supples my stiff rheumatic limbs. 'D'ailleurs', I am atpresent as well, and better than I could reasonably expect to be, 'annuseptuagesimo 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 setout for Bath to-morrow morning. 

If the use of those waters does me no good, the shifting the scene forsome time will at least amuse me a little; and at my age, and with myinfirmities, 'il faut faire de tout bois feche'. Some variety is asnecessary for the mind as some medicines are for the body. 

Here is a total stagnation of politics, which, I suppose, will continuetill the parliament sits to do business, and that will not be till aboutthe middle of January; for the meeting on the 17th December is only forthe 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 avery good reason, which is, that they have the distribution of the loavesand fishes. I believe it is very certain that Mr. Pitt will never comeinto this, or any other administration: he is absolutely a cripple allthe year, and in violent pain at least half of it. Such physical ills aregreat checks to two of the strongest passions to which human nature isliable, love and ambition. Though I cannot persuade myself that thepresent ministry can be long lived, I can as little imagine who or whatcan succeed them, 'telle est la-disette de sujets papables'. The Duke ofswears that he will have Lord personally attacked in both Houses; but Ido not see how, without endangering himself at the same time. 

Miss C------is safely arrived here, and her Duke is fonder of her thanever. It was a dangerous experiment that she tried, in leaving him solong; but it seems she knew her man. 

I pity you for the inundation of your good countrymen, which overwhelmsyou; 'je sais ce qu'en vaut l'aune. It is, besides, expensive, but, as Ilook upon the expense to be the least evil of the two, I will see if aNew-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. Ihave now been here a month, bathing and drinking the waters, forcomplaints 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 absolutelyreduced me to the miserable situation of the Sphinx's riddle, to walkupon three legs; that is, with the assistance of my stick, to walk, orrather hobble, very indifferently. I wish it were a declared gout, whichis the distemper of a gentleman; whereas the rheumatism is the distemperof a hackney-coachman or chairman, who is obliged to be out in allweathers and at all hours. 

I think you will do very right to ask leave, and I dare say you willeasily get it, to go to the baths in Suabia; that is, supposing that youhave consulted some skillful physician, if such a one there be, either atDresden or at Leipsic, about the nature of your distemper, and the natureof those baths; but, 'suos quisque patimur manes'. We have but a badbargain, God knows, of this life, and patience is the only way not tomake bad worse. Mr. Pitt keeps his bed here, with a very real gout, andnot a political one, as is often suspected. 

Here has been a congress of most of the 'ex Ministres'. If they haveraised a battery, as I suppose they have, it is a masked one, for nothinghas transpired; only they confess that they intend a most vigorousattack. 'D'ailleurs', there seems to be a total suspension of allbusiness, till the meeting of the parliament, and then 'Signa canant'. Iam very glad that at this time you are out of it: and for reasons that Ineed not mention: you would certainly have been sent for over, and, asbefore, not paid for your journey. 

Poor Harte is very ill, and condemned to the Hot well at Bristol. He is abetter poet than philosopher: for all this illness and melancholyproceeds originally from the ill success of his "Gustavus Adolphus. " Heis grown extremely devout, which I am very glad of, because that isalways a comfort to the afflicted. 

I cannot present Mr. Larpent with my New-Year's gift, till I come totown, which will be before Christmas at farthest; till when, God blessyou! Adieu. 

LETTER CCLXXXIII

LONDON, December 27, 1765. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here from Bath last Monday, rather, but notmuch better, than when I went over there. My rheumatic pains, in my legsand hips, plague me still, and I must never expect to be quite free fromthem. 

You have, to be sure, had from the office an account of what theparliament did, or rather did not do, the day of their meeting; and thesame point will be the great object at their next meeting; I mean theaffair of our American Colonies, relatively to the late imposedStamp-duty, which our Colonists absolutely refuse to pay. TheAdministration are for some indulgence and forbearance to those frowardchildren of their mother country; the Opposition are for taking vigorous, as they call them, but I call them violent measures; not less than 'lesdragonnades'; 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 wouldnot have the mother country become a stepmother. Our trade to Americabrings in, 'communibus annis', two millions a year; and the Stamp-duty isestimated at but one hundred thousand pounds a year; which I would by nomeans bring into the stock of the Exchequer, at the loss or even the riskof a million a year to the national stock. 

I do not tell you of the Garter given away yesterday, because thenewspapers will; but, I must observe, that the Prince of Brunswick'sriband is a mark of great distinction to that family; which I believe, isthe first (except our own Royal Family) that has ever had two blueribands at a time; but it must be owned they deserve them. 

One hears of nothing now in town, but the separation of men and theirwives. Will Finch, the Ex-vice Chamberlain, Lord Warwick, and your friendLord Bolingbroke. I wonder at none of them for parting; but I wonder atmany for still living together; for in this country it is certain thatmarriage is not well understood. 

I have this day sent Mr. Larpent two hundred pounds for yourChristmas-box, of which I suppose he will inform you by this post. Makethis Christmas as merry a one as you can; for 'pour le peu du bon temsqui nous reste, rien nest si funeste, qu'un noir chagrin'. For the newyears--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; andyour former, which you mention in it, but ten days ago; this may easilybe accounted for from the badness of the weather, and consequently of theroads. I hardly remember so severe a win ter; it has occasioned manyillnesses here. I am sure it pinched my crazy carcass so much that, aboutthree weeks ago, I was obliged to be let blood twice in four days, whichI found afterward was very necessary, by the relief it gave to my headand to the rheumatic pains in my limbs; and from the execrable kind ofblood which I lost. 

Perhaps you expect from me a particular account of the present state ofaffairs 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 onlydaily, but hourly. 

Most people think, and I among the rest, that the date of the presentMinisters 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 contestedelection in the House of Commons, and got it but by eleven votes; toosmall a majority to carry anything; the next day they lost a question inthe House of Lords, by three. The question in the House of Lords was, toenforce 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 Iprotest I draw none; but only stare at the present undecipherable stateof affairs, which, in fifty years' experience, I have never seen anythinglike. The Stamp-act has proved a most pernicious measure; for, whether itis repealed or not, which is still very doubtful, it has given suchterror to the Americans, that our trade with them will not be, for someyears, what it used to be; and great numbers of our manufacturers at homewill be turned a starving for want of that employment which our veryprofitable trade to America found them: and hunger is always the cause oftumults and sedition. 

As you have escaped a fit of the gout in this severe cold weather, it isto 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 agreat 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 neverreceive a letter of yours, but I answer it by the next post, or the nextbut one, at furthest: but I can easily conceive that my two last lettersto you may have been drowned or frozen in their way; for portents andprodigies of frost, snow, and inundations, have been so frequent thiswinter, that they have almost lost their names. 

You tell me that you are going to the baths of BADEN; but that puzzles mea little, so I recommend this letter to the care of Mr. Larpent, toforward 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 illopinion of, in all arthritic or rheumatic cases; and your case I take tobe a compound of both, but rather more of the latter. 

You will probably wonder that I tell you nothing of public matters; uponwhich I shall be as secret as Hotspur's gentle Kate, who would not tellwhat she did not know; but what is singular, nobody seems to know anymore of them than I do. People gape, stare, conjecture, and refine. Changes of the Ministry, or in the Ministry at least, are daily reportedand foretold, but of what kind, God only knows. It is also very doubtfulwhether Mr. Pitt will come into the Administration or not; the twopresent Secretaries are extremely desirous that he should; but the othersthink of the horse that called the man to its assistance. I will saynothing to you about American affairs, because I have not pens, ink, orpaper enough to give you an intelligible account of them. They have beenthe subjects of warm and acrimonious debates, both in the Lords andCommons, 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 theenforcing than from the repealing it. 

Colonel Browne was with me the other day, and assured me that he left youvery well. He said he saw you at Spa, but I did not remember him; thoughI remember his two brothers, the Colonel and the ravisher, very well. Your Saxon colonel has the brogue exceedingly. Present my respects toCount Flemming; I am very sorry for the Countess's illness; she was amost 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. 'Ilm'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. Iwaited with impatience for it, not having received one from you in sixweeks; nor your mother neither, who began to be very sure that you weredead, if not buried. You should write to her once a week, or at leastonce a-fortnight; for women make no allowance either for business orlaziness; 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 donot know: your own description of them is as exact a one as any I, who amupon the place, can give you. It is a total dislocation and'derangement'; consequently a total inefficiency. When the Duke ofGrafton quitted the seals, he gave that very reason for it, in a speechin the House of Lords: he declared, "that he had no objection to thepersons or the measures of the present Ministers; but that he thoughtthey wanted strength and efficiency to carry on proper measures withsuccess; and that he knew but one man MEANING, AS YOU WILL EASILYSUPPOSE, MR. PITT who could give them strength and solidity; that, underthis person, he should be willing to serve in any capacity, not only as aGeneral Officer, but as a pioneer; and would take up a spade and amattock. " When he quitted the seals, they were offered first to LordEgmont, then to Lord Hardwicke; who both declined them, probably for thesame reasons that made the Duke of Grafton resign them; but after theirgoing a-begging for some time, the Duke of-------begged them, and hasthem 'faute de mieux'. Lord Mountstuart was never thought of for Vienna, where Lord Stormont returns in three months; the former is going to bemarried to one of the Miss Windsors, a great fortune. To tell you thespeculations, the reasonings, and the conjectures, either of theuninformed, or even of the best-informed public, upon the presentwonderful situation of affairs, would take up much more time and paperthan either you or I can afford, though we have neither of us a greatdeal of business at present. 

I am in as good health as I could reasonably expect, at my age, and withmy shattered carcass; that is, from the waist upward; but downward it isnot the same: for my limbs retain that stiffness and debility of my longrheumatism; I cannot walk half an hour at a time. As the autumn, andstill more as the winter approaches, take care to keep yourself verywarm, especially your legs and feet. 

Lady Chesterfield sends you her compliments, and triumphs in the successof her plaster. God bless you!

LETTER CCLXXXVII

BLACKHEATH, July 11, 1766. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: You are a happy mortal, to have your time thus employedbetween the great and the fair; I hope you do the honors of your countryto the latter. The Emperor, by your account, seems to be very well for anemperor; who, by being above the other monarchs in Europe, may justly besupposed to have had a proportionably worse education. I find, by youraccount of him, that he has been trained up to homicide, the only sciencein which princes are ever instructed; and with good reason, as theirgreatness and glory singly depend upon the numbers of theirfellow-creatures which their ambition exterminates. If a sovereignshould, by great accident, deviate into moderation, justice, andclemency, what a contemptible figure would he make in the catalogue ofprinces! I have always owned a great regard for King Log. From theinterview at Torgaw, between the two monarchs, they will be either agreat deal better or worse together; but I think rather the latter; forour namesake, Philip de Co mines, observes, that he never knew any goodcome from l'abouchement des Rois. The King of Prussia will exert all hisperspicacity to analyze his Imperial Majesty; and I would bet upon theone 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 Ihad the direction of both the monarchs, and they should, together withsome of their allies, take Lorraine and Alsace from France. You will callme 'l'Abbe de St. Pierre'; but I only say what I wish; whereas he thoughteverything that he wished practicable. 

Now to come home. Here are great bustles at Court, and a great change ofpersons is certainly very near. You will ask me, perhaps, who is to beout, and who is to be in? To which I answer, I do not know. My conjectureis that, be the new settlement what it will, Mr. Pitt will be at the headof it. If he is, I presume, 'qu'il aura mis de l'eau dans son vin parrapport a Mylord B-----; when that shall come to be known, as known itcertainly 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 afavorite, 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 Iknow I shall never be free from my flying rheumatic pains, as long as Ilive; but whether that will be more or less, is extremely indifferent tome; in either case, God bless you!

LETTER CCLXXXVIII

BLACKHEATH, August 1, 1766. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: The curtain was at last drawn up, the day beforeyesterday, and discovered the new actors, together with some of the oldones. I do not name them to you, because to-morrow's Gazette will do itfull as well as I could. Mr. Pitt, who had carte blanche given him, namedeveryone of them: but what would you think he named himself for? LordPrivy 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, andhas done himself so much hurt, that he will never be able to stand uponhis leg's again. Everybody is puzzled how to account for this step;though it would not be the first time that great abilities have beenduped by low cunning. But be it what it will, he is now certainly onlyEarl of Chatham; and no longer Mr. Pitt, in any respect whatever. Such anevent, I believe, was never read nor heard of. To withdraw, in thefullness of his power and in the utmost gratification of his ambition, from the House of Commons (which procured him his power, and which couldalone insure it to him), and to go into that hospital of incurables, theHouse of Lords, is a measure so unaccountable, that nothing but proofpositive could have made me believe it: but true it is. Hans Stanley isto go Ambassador to Russia; and my nephew, Ellis, to Spain, decoratedwith the red riband. Lord Shelburne is your Secretary of State, which Isuppose he has notified to you this post, by a circular letter. CharlesTownshend has now the sole management of the House of Commons; but howlong he will be content to be only Lord Chatham's vicegerent there, is aquestion which I will not pretend to decide. There is one very bad signfor Lord Chatham, in his new dignity; which is, that all his enemies, without exception, rejoice at it; and all his friends are stupefied anddumbfounded. 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 beconfessed that she knows the arts of courts, to be so received atDresden, 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 mostdays a great deal. I hope that does not affect your health, as great colddoes; for, with all these inundations, it has not been cold. God blessyou!

LETTER CCLXXXIX

BLACKHEATH, August 14, 1766. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 30th past, and Ifind by it that it crossed mine upon the road, where they had no time totake notice of one another. 

The newspapers have informed you, before now, of the changes actuallymade; 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 andconsequences of Mr. Pitt's quarrel now appear in print, in a pamphletpublished by Lord T------; and in a refutation of it, not by Mr. Pitthimself, I believe, but by some friend of his, and under his sanction. The former is very scurrilous and scandalous, and betrays privateconversation. My Lord says, that in his last conference, he thought hehad as good a right to nominate the new Ministry as Mr. Pitt, andconsequently named Lord G-----, Lord L------, etc. , for Cabinet Councilemployments; which Mr. Pitt not consenting to, Lord T-----broke up theconference, and in his wrath went to Stowe; where I presume he may remainundisturbed a great while, since Mr. Pitt will neither be willing norable to send for him again. The pamphlet, on the part of Mr. Pitt, givesan account of his whole political life; and, in that respect, is tediousto 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: youshall judge yourself, for I here transcribe the article: "But this I willbe 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, hemight have crept out of life with as little notice as he crept in; andgone off with no other degree of credit, than that of adding a singleunit to the bills of mortality" I wish I could send you all the pamphletsand half-sheets that swarm here upon this occasion; but that isimpossible; for every week would make a ship's cargo. It is certain, thatMr. Pitt has, by his dignity of Earl, lost the greatest part of hispopularity, especially in the city; and I believe the Opposition will bevery strong, and perhaps prevail, next session, in the House of Commons;there being now nobody there who can have the authority and ascendantover them that Pitt had. 

People tell me here, as young Harvey told you at Dresden, that I lookvery well; but those are words of course, which everyone says toeverybody. So far is true, that I am better than at my age, and with mybroken 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 havegiven you a longer reprieve from your painful complaint. If I do notmistake, you carried over with you some of Dr. Monsey's powders. Have youtaken any of them, and have they done you any good? I know they did me agreat deal. I, who pretend to some skill in physic, advise a coolregimen, and cooling medicines. 

I do not wonder, that you do wonder, at Lord C-----'s conduct. If he wasnot outwitted into his peerage by Lord B----, his accepting it is utterlyinexplicable. The instruments he has chosen for the great office, Ibelieve, will never fit the same case. It was cruel to put such a boy asLord G---over the head of old Ligonier; and if I had been the former, Iwould have refused that commission, during the life of that honest andbrave 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 toprophesy, that he will not do. Ligonier was much pressed to give up hisregiment of guards, but would by no means do it; and declared that theKing might break him if he pleased, but that he would certainly not breakhimself. 

I have no political events to inform you of; they will not be ripe tillthe meeting of the parliament. Immediately upon the receipt of thisletter, write me one, to acquaint me how you are. 

God bless you; and, particularly, may He send you health, for that is thegreatest blessing!

LETTER CCXCI

BLACKHEATH, September 30, 1766. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, yesterday, with great pleasure, your letterof the 18th, by which I consider this last ugly bout as over; and, toprevent its return, I greatly approve of your plan for the south ofFrance, where I recommend for your principal residence, Pezenas Toulouse, or Bordeaux; but do not be persuaded to go to Aix en Provence, which, byexperience, I know to be at once the hottest and the coldest place in theworld, from the ardor of the Provencal sun, and the sharpness of theAlpine winds. I also earnestly recommend to you, for your complaint uponyour 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 asyou can, with your diet. 

I have written, as you desired, to Mr. Secretary Conway; but I willanswer for it that there will be no difficulty to obtain the leave youask. 

There is no new event in the political world since my last; so God blessyou!

LETTER CCXCII

LONDON, October 29, 7766. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter of the 17th. I amglad to hear that your breast is so much better. You will find bothasses' and mares' milk enough in the south of France, where it was muchdrank when I was there. Guy Patin recommends to a patient to have nodoctor but a horse, and no apothecary but an ass. As for your pains andweakness in your limbs, 'je vous en offre autant'; I have never been freefrom them since my last rheumatism. I use my legs as much as I can, andyou should do so too, for disuse makes them worse. I cannot now use themlong at a time, because of the weakness of old age; but I contrive toget, by different snatches, at least two hours' walking every day, eitherin my garden or within doors, as the weather permits. I set out to-morrowfor Bath, in hopes of half repairs, for Medea's kettle could not give mewhole ones; the timbers of my wretched vessel are too much decayed to befitted 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 thatI know none. Great expectations are raised of this session, which meetsthe 11th of next month; but of what kind nobody knows, and consequentlyeverybody conjectures variously. Lord Chatham comes to town to-morrowfrom Bath, where he has been to refit himself for the winter campaign; hehas hitherto but an indifferent set of aides-decamp; and where he willfind better, I do not know. Charles Townshend and he are already upon illterms. '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 5thinstant 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 eithergouty or rheumatic, it had better be in your legs than anywhere else. Ihave consulted Moisy, the great physician of this place, upon it; whosays, that at this distance he dares not prescribe anything, as there maybe such different causes for your complaint, which must be well weighedby a physician upon the spot; that is, in short, that he knows nothing ofthe matter. I will therefore tell you my own case, in 1732, which may besomething parallel to yours. I had that year been dangerously ill of afever in Holland; and when I was recovered of it, the febrific humor fellinto my legs, and swelled them to that degree, and chiefly in theevening, that it was as painful to me as it was shocking to others. Icame to England with them in this condition; and consulted Mead, Broxholme, and Arbuthnot, who none of them did me the least good; but, onthe contrary, increased the swelling, by applying poultices andemollients. In this condition I remained near six months, till findingthat the doctors could do me no good, I resolved to consult Palmer, themost eminent surgeon of St. Thomas's Hospital. He immediately told methat the physicians had pursued a very wrong method, as the swelling ofmy legs proceeded only from a relaxation and weakness of the cutaneousvessels; and he must apply strengtheners instead of emollients. Accordingly, he ordered me to put my legs up to the knees every morningin brine from the salters, as hot as I could bear it; the brine must havehad meat salted in it. I did so; and after having thus pickled my legsfor about three weeks, the complaint absolutely ceased, and I have neverhad the least swelling in them since. After what I have said, I mustcaution you not to use the same remedy rashly, and without the mostskillful advice you can find, where you are; for if your swellingproceeds from a gouty, or rheumatic humor, there may be great danger inapplying so powerful an astringent, and perhaps REPELLANT as brine. So gopiano, 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 histrade is, I suppose, 'sedentaire' at Basle, while it is not sure that youwill be at any one place in the south of France. Do you know that he is adescendant of the French poet Sarrazin?

Poor Harte, whom I frequently go to see here, out of compassion, is in amost miserable way; he has had a stroke of the palsy, which has deprivedhim of the use of his right leg, affected his speech a good deal, andperhaps his head a little. Such are the intermediate tributes that we areforced to pay, in some shape or other, to our wretched nature, till wepay the last great one of all. May you pay this very late, and as fewintermediate tributes as possible; and so 'jubeo te bene valere'. Godbless you!

LETTER CCXCIV

BATH, December 9, 1766. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, two days ago, your letter of the 26th past. Iam very glad that you begin to feel the good effects of the climate whereyou are; I know it saved my life, in 1741, when both the skillful and theunskillful gave me over. In that ramble I stayed three or four days atNimes, where there are more remains of antiquity, I believe, than in anytown in Europe, Italy excepted. What is falsely called 'la maisonquarree', is, in my mind, the finest piece of architecture that I eversaw; and the amphitheater the clumsiest and the ugliest: if it were inEngland, 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 greatcrowd of trifling and unknown people, whom I seldom frequent, in thepublic rooms; so that I may pass my time 'tres uniment', in taking theair in my post-chaise every morning, and in reading of evenings. And 'apropos' of the latter, I shall point out a book, which I believe willgive you some pleasure; at least it gave me a great deal. I never read itbefore. It is 'Reflexions sur la Poesie et la Peinture, par l'Abbee deBos', in two octavo volumes; and is, I suppose, to be had at every greattown 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 thatyou will have none, for no mortal can comprehend the present state ofaffairs. Eight or nine people of some consequence have resigned theiremployments; upon which Lord C-----made overtures to the Duke ofB-----and his people; but they could by no means agree, and his Gracewent, the next day, full of wrath, to Woburn, so that negotiation isentirely at an end. People wait to see who Lord C-----will take in, forsome he must have; even HE cannot be alone, 'contra mundum'. Such a stateof affairs, to be sure, was never seen before, in this or in any othercountry. When this Ministry shall be settled, it will be the sixthMinistry in six years' time. 

Poor Harte is here, and in a most miserable condition; those who wish himthe 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 Iam alarmed about your health; and fear that the southern parts of Francehave not done so well by you as they did by me in the year 1741, whenthey snatched me from the jaws of death. Let me know, upon the receipt ofthis 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 fromthe Bath, where he has been laid up this month, by a severe fit of thegout; and, at present, he has the sole apparent power. In what littlebusiness has hitherto been done in the House of Commons, CharlesTownshend has given himself more ministerial airs than Lord Chatham will, I believe, approve of. However, since Lord Chatham has thought fit towithdraw 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 takeit for granted that you know them all from the English printed papers;some of which, I presume, are sent after you. Your old acquaintance, LordEssex, is to be married this week to Harriet Bladen, who has L20, 000down, besides the reasonable expectation of as much at the death of herfather. My kinsman, Lord Strathmore, is to be married in a fortnight, toMiss Bowes, the greatest heiress perhaps in Europe. In short, thematrimonial frenzy seems to rage at present, and is epidemical. The menmarry for money, and I believe you guess what the women marry for. Godbless you, and send you health!

LETTER CCXCVI

LONDON, March 3, 1767

MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received two letters at once from you, bothdated Montpellier; one of the 29th of last December, and the other the12th 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 Ireceived them; and, about ten days ago, I wrote you a volunteer, becauseyou had been so long silent, and I was afraid that you were not well; butyour letter of the 12th of February has removed all my fears upon thatscore. The same climate that has restored your health so far willprobably, in a little more time, restore your strength too; though youmust not expect it to be quite what it was before your late painfulcomplaints. At least I find that, since my late great rheumatism, Icannot walk above half an hour at a time, which I do not place singly tothe account of my years, but chiefly to the great shock given then to mylimbs. 'D'ailleurs' I am pretty well for my age and shatteredconstitution. 

As I told you in my last, I must tell you again in this, that I have nonews to send. Lord Chatham, at last, came to town yesterday, full ofgout, and is not able to stir hand or foot. During his absence, CharlesTownshend has talked of him, and at him, in such a manner, thathenceforward they must be either much worse or much better together thanever 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 takenoff; which was opposed by the Court; but the Court lost it by eighteen. The Opposition triumph much upon this victory; though, I think, withoutreason; for it is plain that all the landed gentlemen bribed themselveswith 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 toconsummation in the country, from an unnecessary fear that they shouldnot be tired of each other if they stayed in town. And now 'dixi'; Godbless 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, whilethere was some liberty subsisting in France. 

LETTER CCXCVII

LONDON, April 6, 1767. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter from Nimes, by which Ifind that several of our letters have reciprocally miscarried. This mayprobably have the same fate; however, if it reaches Monsieur Sarrazin, Ipresume he will know where to take his aim at you; for I find you are inmotion, and with a polarity to Dresden. I am very glad to find by it, that your meridional journey has perfectly recovered you, as to yourgeneral state of health; for as to your legs and thighs, you must neverexpect that they will be restored to their original strength andactivity, after so many rheumatic attacks as you have had. I know that mylimbs, besides the natural debility of old age, have never recovered thesevere attack of rheumatism that plagued me five or six years ago. Icannot now walk above half an hour at a time and even that in a hobblingkind of way. 

I can give you no account of our political world, which is in a situationthat I never saw in my whole life. Lord Chatham has been so ill, theselast two months, that he has not been able (some say not willing) to door hear of any business, and for his 'sous Ministres', they eithercannot, or dare not, do any, without his directions; so everything is nowat a stand. This situation, I think, cannot last much longer, and if LordChatham should either quit his post, or the world, neither of which isvery improbable, I conjecture, that which is called the RockinghamConnection stands the fairest for the Ministry. But this is merely myconjecture, for I have neither 'data' nor 'postulata' enough to reasonupon. 

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 presumethis 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 ananswer, with something better than the answer itself. 

If you complain of the weather, north of Besancon, what would you say tothe 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 veryhard. All my promised fruit at Blackheath is quite destroyed; and, whatis 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 theformer 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 thecontroversial arguments of the Russian troops, in favor of theDissidents: I am sure I wish them success; for I would have allintoleration intolerated in its turn. We shall soon see more clearly intothis matter; for I do not think that the Autocratrice of all the Russiaswill be trifled with by the Sarmatians. 

What do you think of the late extraordinary event in Spain? Could youhave ever imagined that those ignorant Goths would have dared to banishthe Jesuits? There must have been some very grave and important reasonsfor so extraordinary a measure: but what they were I do not pretend toguess; and perhaps I shall never know, though all the coffeehouses heredo. 

Things are here in exactly the same situation, in which they were when Iwrote to you last. Lord Chatham is still ill, and only goes abroad for anhour in a day, to take the air, in his coach. The King has, to my certainknowledge, sent him repeated messages, desiring him not to be concernedat his confinement, for that he is resolved to support him, 'pour etcontre tous'. God bless you!

LETTER CCXCIX

LONDON, June 1, 1767. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 20th past, fromDresden, where I am glad to find that you are arrived safe and sound. This has been everywhere an 'annus mirabilis' for bad weather, and itcontinues here still. Everybody has fires, and their winter clothes, asat Christmas. The town is extremely sickly; and sudden deaths have beenvery 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, Ibelieve, 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 thinkthat it will be a mosaic Ministry, made up 'de pieces rapportees' fromdifferent connections. 

Last Friday I sent your subsidy to Mr. Larpent, who, I suppose, has givenyou 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 youall up to Christmas. The King's inferior servants are almost starving. 

I suppose you have already heard, at Dresden, that Count Bruhl is eitheractually 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, byLord Egremont. All this will sound great 'en ecus d'Allemagne'. I am gladof 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 thatmotive. 

LETTER CCC

BLACKHEATH, JULY 2, 1767. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: Though I have had no letter from you since my last, andthough I have no political news to inform you of, I write this toacquaint you with a piece of Greenwich news, which I believe you will bevery glad of; I am sure I am. Know then that your friend Miss-----washappily married, three days ago, to Mr. -------, an Irish gentleman, and amember of that parliament, with an estate of above L2, 000 a-year. Hesettles 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 wasat once shot dead by her charms; but as dead men sometimes walk, hewalked to her the next morning, and tendered her his person and hisfortune; both which, taking the one with the other, she very prudentlyaccepted, for his person is sixty years old. 

Ministerial affairs are still in the same ridiculous and doubtfulsituation 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 helanguished. Two Lords are talked of to succeed him; Lord Egmont and LordHillsborough: I rather hope the latter. Lord Northington certainly quitsthis week; but nobody guesses who is to succeed him as President. Athousand other changes are talked of, which I neither believe nor reject. 

Poor Harte is in a most miserable condition: He has lost one side ofhimself, and in a great measure his speech; notwithstanding which, he isgoing 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 todo it since. God bless you!

LETTER CCCI

BLACKHEATH, July 9, 1767. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received yours of the 21st past, with the inclosedproposal from the French 'refugies, for a subscription toward buildingthem 'un temple'. I have shown it to the very few people I see, butwithout the least success. They told me (and with too much truth) thatwhile such numbers of poor were literally starving here from the dearnessof all provisions, they could not think of sending their money intoanother country, for a building which they reckoned useless. In truth, Inever knew such misery as is here now; and it affects both the hearts andthe purses of those who have either; for my own part, I never gave to abuilding in my life; which I reckon is only giving to masons andcarpenters, and the treasurer of the undertaking. 

Contrary to the expectations of all mankind here, everything stillcontinues in 'statu quo'. General Conway has been desired by the King tokeep the seals till he has found a successor for him, and the LordPresident the same. Lord Chatham is relapsed, and worse than ever: hesees nobody, and nobody sees him: it is said that a bungling physicianhas checked his gout, and thrown it upon his nerves; which is the worstdistemper that a minister or a lover can have, as it debilitates the mindof the former and the body of the latter. Here is at present aninterregnum. We must soon see what order will be produced from thischaos. 

The Electorate, I believe, will find the want of Comte Flemming; for hecertainly had abilities, and was as sturdy and inexorable as a Ministerat the head of the finances ought always to be. When you see ComtesseFlemming, which I suppose cannot be for some time, pray make her LadyChesterfield's and my compliments of condolence. 

You say that Dresden is very sickly; I am sure London is at least assickly now, for there reigns an epidemical distemper, called by thegenteel name of 'l'influenza'. It is a little fever, of which scarcelyanybody dies; and it generally goes off with a little looseness. I haveescaped 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 Ilive till then; and am just able to write, which is all I can say, for Iam extremely weak, and have in a great measure lost the use of my legs; Ihope they will recover both flesh and strength, for at present they haveneither. 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 eauxde Jouvence' to me; however, I shall do as good courtiers do, and getwhat I can, if I cannot get what I will. I send you no politics, for hereare neither politics nor ministers; Lord Chatham is quiet at Pynsent, inSomersetshire, and his former subalterns do nothing, so that nothing isdone. Whatever places or preferments are disposed of, come evidently fromLord-------, 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 hundredthousand pounds. He has left all his landed estate, which is eight andtwenty thousand pounds a-year, including the Bradford estate, which hisbrother had from that ancient family, to a cousin-german. He has left twohundred thousand pounds, in the funds, to Lord Darlington, who was hisnext nearest relation; and at least twenty thousand pounds in variouslegacies. If riches alone could make people happy, the last twoproprietors of this immense wealth ought to have been so, but they neverwere. 

God bless you, and send you good health, which is better than all theriches of the world!

LETTER CCCIII

LONDON, November 3, 1767. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last letter brought me but a scurvy account of yourhealth. For the headaches you complain of, I will venture to prescribe aremedy, which, by experience, I found a specific, when I was extremelyplagued with them. It is either to chew ten grains of rhubarb every nightgoing to bed: or, what I think rather better, to take, immediately beforedinner, a couple of rhubarb pills, of five grains each; by which means itmixes with the aliments, and will, by degrees, keep your body gentlyopen. I do it to this day, and find great good by it. As you seem todread the approach of a German winter, I would advise you to write toGeneral Conway, for leave of absence for the three rigorous wintermonths, which I dare say will not be refused. If you choose a worseclimate, 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 topass his winter, who, I am sure, will be extremely glad of your companythere. 

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 amvery glad to find that you are well enough to think that you may perhapsstand the winter at Dresden; but if you do, pray take care to keep bothyour body and your limbs exceedingly warm. 

As to my own health, it is, in general, as good as I could expect it, atmy age; I have a good stomach, a good digestion, and sleep well; but findthat I shall never recover the free use of my legs, which are now full asweak as when I first came hither. 

You ask me questions concerning Lord C------, which neither I, nor, Ibelieve, anybody but himself can answer; however, I will tell you allthat I do know, and all that I guess, concerning him. This timetwelvemonth he was here, and in good health and spirits, except now andthen some little twinges of the gout. We saw one another four or fivetimes, at our respective houses; but for these last eight months, he hasbeen absolutely invisible to his most intimate friends, 'les sousMinistres': he would receive no letters, nor so much as open any packetabout business. 

His physician, Dr. -----, as I am told, had, very ignorantly, checked acoming fit of the gout, and scattered it about his body; and it fellparticularly upon his nerves, so that he continues exceedingly vaporish;and would neither see nor speak to anybody while he was here. I sent himmy compliments, and asked leave to wait upon him; but he sent me wordthat he was too ill to see anybody whatsoever. I met him frequentlytaking the air in his post-chaise, and he looked very well. He set outfrom hence for London last Tuesday; but what to do, whether to resume, orfinally to resign the Administration, God knows; conjectures are various. In one of our conversations here, this time twelvemonth, I desired him tosecure 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 ithis own affair; and desired that I would give myself no more troubleabout it. Since that, I have heard no more of it; which made me look outfor some venal borough and I spoke to a borough-jobber, and offeredfive-and-twenty hundred pounds for a secure seat in parliament; but helaughed at my offer, and said that there was no such thing as a boroughto be had now, for that the rich East and West Indians had secured themall, at the rate of three thousand pounds at least; but many at fourthousand, and two or three that he knew, at five thousand. This, Iconfess, has vexed me a good deal; and made me the more impatient to knowwhether Lord C---had done anything in it; which I shall know when I go totown, as I propose to do in about a fortnight; and as soon as I know ityou shall. To tell you truly what I think--I doubt, from all this NERVOUSDISORDER that Lord C-----is hors de combat, as a Minister; but do notever 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 theyare not yet quite filled up; it was formed by the Duke of Bedford. LordGower is made President of the Council, Lord Sandwich, Postmaster, LordHillsborough, Secretary of State for America only, Mr. Rigby, Vice-treasurer of Ireland. General Canway is to keep the seals afortnight longer, and then to surrender them to Lord Weymouth. It is veryuncertain whether the Duke of Grafton is to continue at the head of theTreasury or not; but, in my private opinion, George Grenville will verysoon be there. Lord Chatham seems to be out of the question, and is athis repurchased house at Hayes, where he will not see a mortal. It is yetuncertain whether Lord Shelburne is to keep his place; if not, LordSandwich they say is to succeed him. All the Rockingham people areabsolutely excluded. Many more changes must necessarily be, but no moreare yet declared. It seems to be a resolution taken by somebody thatMinisters are to be annual. 

Sir George Macartney is next week to be married to Lady Jane Stuart, LordBute's second daughter. 

I never knew it so cold in my life as it is now, and with a very deepsnow; by which, if it continues, I may be snow-bound here for God knowshow long, though I proposed leaving this place the latter end of theweek. 

Poor Harte is very ill here; he mentions you often, and with greataffection. 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 wishyou had gone a month or six weeks sooner to Basle, that you might haveescaped the excessive cold of the most severe winter that I believe wasever known. It congealed both my body and my mind, and scarcely left methe power of thinking. A great many here, both in town and country, haveperished by the frost, and been lost in the snow. 

You have heard, no doubt, of the changes at Court, by which you have gota new provincial, Lord Weymouth; who has certainly good parts, and, as Iam informed, speaks very well in the House of Lords; but I believe he hasno application. Lord Chatham is at his house at Hayes; but sees nomortal. Some say that he has a fit of the gout, which would probably dohim good; but many think that his worst complaint is in his head, which Iam afraid is too true. Were he well, I am sure he would realize thepromise he made me concerning you; but, however, in that uncertainty, Iam looking out for any chance borough; and if I can find one, I promiseyou I will bid like a chapman for it, as I should be very sorry that youwere not in the next parliament. I do not see any probability of anyvacancy in a foreign commission in a better climate; Mr. Hamilton atNaples, Sir Horace Mann at Florence, and George Pitt at Turin, do notseem likely to make one. And as for changing your foreign department fora domestic one, it would not be in my power to procure you one; and youwould become 'd'eveque munier', and gain nothing in point of climate, bychanging a bad one for another full as bad, if not worse; and a worse Ibelieve is not than ours. I have always had better health abroad than athome; 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 lameand weak, and despair of ever recovering any strength in my legs. I carevery little about it. At my age every man must have his share of physicalills 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, Iwrote to Lord Weymouth, as you desired; and I send you his answerinclosed, from which (though I have not heard from him since) I take itfor granted, and so may you, that his silence signifies his Majesty'sconsent to your request. Your complicated complaints give me greatuneasiness, and the more, as I am convinced that the Montpellierphysicians have mistaken a material part of your case; as indeed all thephysicians here did, except Dr. Maty. In my opinion, you have no gout, but a very scorbutic and rheumatic habit of body, which should be treatedin a very different manner from the gout; and, as I pretend to be a verygood quack at least, I would prescribe to you a strict milk diet, withthe seeds, such as rice, sago, barley, millet, etc. , for the three summermonths at least, and without ever tasting wine. If climate signifiesanything (in which, by the way, I have very little faith), you are, in mymind, 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 withthem, and do not wear out your eyes with reading at home. 'L'ennui' isthe English distemper: and a very bad one it is, as I find by every day'sexperience; for my deafness deprives me of the only rational pleasurethat I can have at my age, which is society; so that I read my eyes outevery 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. Hedesired that I would leave it to him; that he would make it his ownaffair, and give it in charge to the Duke of G----, whose province it wasto make the parliamentary arrangement. This I depended upon, and I thinkwith reason; but, since that, Lord C has neither seen nor spoken toanybody, and has been in the oddest way in the world. I have sent to theD-----of G------, to know if L-----C----had either spoken or sent to himabout 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 inupon a vacancy, he would do it with great pleasure. I am extremely sorryfor this accident; for I am of a very different opinion from you, aboutbeing in parliament, as no man can be of consequence in this country, whois not in it; and, though one may not speak like a Lord Mansfield or aLord Chatham, one may make a very good figure in a second rank. 'Locusest et pluribus umbris'. I do not pretend to give you any account of thepresent state of this country, or Ministry, not knowing nor guessing itmyself. 

God bless you, and send you health, which is the first and greatest ofall blessings!

LETTER CCCVIII

LONDON, March 15, 1768. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter is supplemental to my last. This morningLord Weymouth very civilly sent Mr. Wood, his first 'commis', to tell methat the King very willingly gave you leave of absence from your post fora year, for the recovery of your health; but then added, that as theCourt of Vienna was tampering with that of Saxony, which it seems ourCourt is desirous to 'contrequarrer', it might be necessary to have inthe interim a 'Charge d'Affaires' at Dresden, with a defalcation out ofyour appointments of forty shillings a-day, till your return, if I wouldagree to it. I told him that I consented to both the proposals, uponcondition that at your return you should have the character and the payof Plenipotentiary added to your present character and pay; and that Iwould completely make up to you the defalcation of the forty shillingsa-day. He positively engaged for it: and added, that he knew that itwould be willingly agreed to. Thus I think I have made a good bargain foryou, though but an indifferent one for myself: but that is what I neverminded in my life. You may, therefore, depend upon receiving from me thefull of this defalcation, when and how you please, independently of yourusual annual refreshment, which I will pay to Monsieur Larpent, wheneveryou 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 wasformerly Minister in Russia. 

LETTER CCCIX

LONDON, April 12, 1768. 

MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, yesterday, your letter of the 1st; in whichyou do not mention the state of your health, which I desire you will dofor the future. 

I believe you have guessed the true reason of Mr. Keith's mission; but bya whisper that I have since heard, Keith is rather inclined to go toTurin, as 'Charge d'Affaires'. I forgot to tell you, in my last, that Iwas almost positively assured that the instant you return to Dresden, Keith should decamp. I am persuaded that they will keep their words withme, as there is no one reason in the world why they should not. I willsend your annual to Mr. Larpent, in a fortnight, and pay the fortyshillings a-day quarterly, if there should be occasion; for, in my ownprivate opinion, there will be no 'Charge d'Affaires' sent. I agree withyou, that 'point d'argent, point d'Allemand', as was used to be said, andnot without more reason, of the Swiss; but, as we have neither theinclination nor I fear the power to give subsidies, the Court of Viennacan 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 unheardof; that for the town of Northampton has cost the contending parties atleast thirty thousand pounds a side, and-------------has sold his boroughof---------, to two members, for nine thousand pounds. As soon as Wilkeshad lost his election for the city, he set up for the county ofMiddlesex, and carried it hollow, as the jockeys say. Here were greatmobs 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 beinseparable. He will appear, the 10th of this month, in the Court ofKing's Bench, to receive his sentence; and then great riots are againexpected, and probably will happen. God bless you!

LETTER CCCX

BATH, October 17, 1768. 

MY DEAR FRIEND. Your last two letters, to myself and Grevenkop, havealarmed me extremely; but I comfort myself a little, by hoping that you, like all people who suffer, think yourself worse than you are. A dropsynever comes so suddenly; and I flatter myself, that it is only that goutyor rheumatic humor, which has plagued you so long, that has occasionedthe temporary swelling of your legs. Above forty years ago, after aviolent fever, my legs swelled as much as you describe yours to be; Iimmediately thought that I had a dropsy; but the Faculty assured me, thatmy 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 anaccount regularly once a-week, either to Grevenkop or myself, for that isthe same thing, of the state of your health. 

I sent you, in four successive letters, as much of the Duchess ofSomerset's snuff as a letter could well convey to you. Have you receivedall or any of them? and have they done you any good? Though, in yourpresent condition, you cannot go into company, I hope that you have someacquaintances that come and sit with you; for if originally it was notgood for man to be alone, it is much worse for a sick man to be so; hethinks too much of his distemper, and magnifies it. Some men of learningamong the ecclesiastics, I dare say, would be glad to sit with you; andyou could give them as good as they brought. 

Poor Harte, who is here still, is in a most miserable condition: he hasentirely lost the use of his left side, and can hardly speakintelligibly. I was with him yesterday. He inquired after you with greataffection, 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 amneither well nor ill, but UNWELL. I have in a manner lost the use of mylegs; for though I can make a shift to crawl upon even ground for aquarter of an hour, I cannot go up or down stairs, unless supported by aservant. 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 touse another hand than my own to acknowledge the receipt of your letterfrom Avignon, of the 27th past. 

I am extremely surprised that Mrs. Du Bouchet should have any objectionto the manner in which your late husband desired to be buried, and whichyou, very properly, complied with. All I desire for my own burial is notto be buried alive; but how or where, I think must be entirelyindifferent to every rational creature. 

I have no commission to trouble you with, during your stay at Paris; fromwhence, I wish you and the boys a good journey home, where I shall bevery 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 sotaken up in playing with the boys that I forgot their more importantaffairs. How soon would you have them placed at school? When I know yourpleasure as to that, I will send to Monsieur Perny, to prepare everythingfor their reception. In the meantime, I beg that you will equip themthoroughly with clothes, linen, etc. , all good, but plain; and give methe account, which I will pay; for I do not intend that, from, this timeforward the two boys should cost you one shilling. I am, with greattruth, Madam, your faithful, humble servant, CHESTERFIELD. 

LETTER CCCXIII

MADAM: As some day must be fixed for sending the boys to school, do youapprove of the 8th of next month? By which time the weather will probablybe 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 toLoughborough House, with all their immense baggage. I must recommend toyou, when you leave them there, to suppress, as well as you can, theovergrowings of maternal tenderness; which would grieve the poor boys themore, and give them a terror of their new establishment. I am, with greattruth, 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; butthen I must like the orders and the orderer. Your orders and yourselfcome under this description; and therefore I must give you an account ofmy 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 incountenance by many of my fellow-crawlers; the last part of the Sphinx'sriddle 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 willgive them this melancholic proof of my caducity, and tell them that thelast time I went to see the boys, I carried the Michaelmas quarterage inmy 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 themfaithfully the two quarters together, at Christmas. 

I hope our two boys are well, for then I am sure you are so. I am, withgreat 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 myopinion, 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 bydrinking 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; buthe 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 letterof mine to Mrs. Du Bouchet, and see no reason yet to retract thatopinion, in general, which at least nineteen widows in twenty hadauthorized. I had not then the pleasure of your acquaintance: I had seenyou but twice or thrice; and I had no reason to think that you woulddeviate, as you have done, from other widows, so much as to put perpetualshackles upon yourself, for the sake of your children. But (if I may usea vulgarism) one swallow makes no summer: five righteous were formerlynecessary to save a city, and they could not be found; so, till I findfour more such righteous widows as yourself, I shall entertain my formernotions of widowhood in general. 

I can assure you that I drink here very soberly and cautiously, and atthe same time keep so cool a diet that I do not find the least symptom ofheat, 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 fourtimes, and always in the middle of summer. Mr. Hawkins is timorous, evento minutia, and my sister delights in them. 

Charles will be a scholar, if you please; but our little Philip, withoutbeing one, will be something or other as good, though I do not yet guesswhat. I am not of the opinion generally entertained in this country, thatman lives by Greek and Latin alone; that is, by knowing a great manywords of two dead languages, which nobody living knows perfectly, andwhich are of no use in the common intercourse of life. Useful knowledgein my opinion consists of modern languages, history, and geography; someLatin may be thrown into the bargain, in compliance with custom, and forcloset amusement. 

You are, by this time, certainly tired with this long letter, which Icould prove to you from Horace's own words (for I am a scholar) to be abad 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 inmy health and life: as to the latter, I am as indifferent myself as anyother body can be; but as to the former, I confess care and anxiety, forwhile I am to crawl upon this planet, I would willingly enjoy the healthat 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 giventhem a fair trial, having drank them but one week; the only difference Ihitherto find is, that I sleep better than I did. 

I beg that you will neither give yourself, nor Mr. Fitzhugh, much troubleabout the pine plants; for as it is three years before they fruit, Imight as well, at my age, plant oaks, and hope to have the advantage oftheir 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-fortyyears ago. 

I hope our boys are well; my respects to them both. I am, with thegreatest 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 hadreceived 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 thesesuspicious times, when the plague is busy in some parts of Europe. All Ican say, in answer to their kind inquiries, is, that I have not thedistemper properly called the plague; but that I have all the plague ofold age and of a shattered carcass. These waters have done me what littlegood 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 veryfinely written, and Philip's very prettily: they are perfectly well, andsay 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 existencemore than I do myself; for it is worth the care of neither of us. Iordered my valet de chambre, according to your orders, to inform you ofmy safe arrival here; to which I can add nothing, being neither betternor 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, atseventeen, the idol of old women, for his gravity, devotion, anddullness. 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 inmy life; the one signed Charles Stanhope, the other Philip Stanhope. Asfor you Charles, I did not wonder at it; for you will take pains, and area lover of letters; but you, idle rogue, you Phil, how came you to writeso well that one can almost say of you two, 'et cantare pores etrespondre parati'! Charles will explain this Latin to you. 

I am told, Phil, that you have got a nickname at school, from yourintimacy with Master Strangeways; and that they call you MasterStrangeways; 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 willbring 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