Letters to His Son, 1749

T >> The Earl of Chesterfield >> Letters to His Son, 1749


I am not now preaching to you, like an old fellow, upon their religious
or moral texts; I am persuaded that you do not want the best instructions
of that kind: but I am advising you as a friend, as a man of the world,
as one who would not have you old while you are young, but would have you
to take all the pleasures that reason points out, and that decency
warrants. I will therefore suppose, for argument's sake (for upon no
other account can it be supposed), that all the vices above mentioned
were perfectly innocent in themselves: they would still degrade, vilify,
and sink those who practiced them; would obstruct their rising in the
world by debasing their characters; and give them low turn of mind, and
manners absolutely inconsistent with their making any figure in upper
life and great business.

What I have now said, together with your own good sense, is, I hope,
sufficient to arm you against the seduction, the invitations, or the
profligate exhortations (for I cannot call them temptations) of those
unfortunate young people. On the other hand, when they would engage you
in these schemes, content yourself with a decent but steady refusal;
avoid controversy upon such plain points. You are too young to convert
them; and, I trust, too wise to be converted by them. Shun them not only
in reality, but even in appearance, if you would be well received in good
company; for people will always be shy of receiving a man who comes from
a place where the plague rages, let him look ever so healthy. There are
some expressions, both in French and English, and some characters, both
in those two and in other countries, which have, I dare say, misled many
young men to their ruin. 'Une honnete debauche, une jolie debauche; "An
agreeable rake, a man of pleasure." Do not think that this means
debauchery and profligacy; nothing like it. It means, at most, the
accidental and unfrequent irregularities of youth and vivacity, in
opposition to dullness, formality, and want of spirit. A 'commerce
galant', insensibly formed with a woman of fashion; a glass of wine or
two too much, unwarily taken in the warmth and joy of good company; or
some innocent frolic, by which nobody is injured, are the utmost bounds
of that life of pleasure, which a man of sense and decency, who has a
regard for his character, will allow himself, or be allowed by others.
Those who transgress them in the hopes of shining, miss their aim, and
become infamous, or at least, contemptible.

The length or shortness of your stay at Turin will sufficiently inform me
(even though Mr. Harte should not) of your conduct there; for, as I have
told you before, Mr. Harte has the strictest orders to carry you away
immediately from thence, upon the first and least symptom of infection
that he discovers about you; and I know him to be too conscientiously
scrupulous, and too much your friend and mine not to execute them
exactly. Moreover, I will inform you, that I shall have constant accounts
of your behavior from Comte Salmour, the Governor of the Academy, whose
son is now here, and my particular friend. I have, also, other good
channels of intelligence, of which I do not apprise you. But, supposing
that all turns out well at Turin, yet, as I propose your being at Rome
for the jubilee, at Christmas, I desire that you will apply yourself
diligently to your exercises of dancing, fencing, and riding at the
Academy; as well for the sake of your health and growth, as to fashion
and supple you. You must not neglect your dress neither, but take care to
be 'bien mis'. Pray send for the best operator for the teeth at Turin,
where I suppose there is some famous one; and let him put yours in
perfect order; and then take care to keep them so, afterward, yourself.
You had very good teeth, and I hope they are so still; but even those who
have bad ones, should keep them clean; for a dirty mouth is, in my mind,
ill manners. In short, neglect nothing that can possibly please. A
thousand nameless little things, which nobody can describe, but which
everybody feels, conspire to form that WHOLE of pleasing; as the several
pieces of a Mosaic work though, separately, of little beauty or value,
when properly joined, form those beautiful figures which please
everybody. A look, a gesture, an attitude, a tone of voice, all bear
their parts in the great work of pleasing. The art of pleasing is more
particularly necessary in your intended profession than perhaps in any
other; it is, in truth, the first half of your business; for if you do
not please the court you are sent to, you will be of very little use to
the court you are sent from. Please the eyes and the ears, they will
introduce you to the heart; and nine times in ten, the heart governs the
understanding.

Make your court particularly, and show distinguished attentions to such
men and women as are best at court, highest in the fashion, and in the
opinion of the public; speak advantageously of them behind their backs,
in companies whom you have reason to believe will tell them again.
Express your admiration of the many great men that the House of Savoy has
produced; observe that nature, instead of being exhausted by those
efforts, seems to have redoubled them, in the person of the present King,
and the Duke of Savoy; wonder, at this rate, where it will end, and
conclude that it must end in the government of all Europe. Say this,
likewise, where it will probably be repeated; but say it unaffectedly,
and, the last especially, with a kind of 'enjouement'. These little arts
are very allowable, and must be made use of in the course of the world;
they are pleasing to one party, useful to the other, and injurious to
nobody.

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

Adieu my dear child! Consider seriously the importance of the two next
years to your character, your figure, and your fortune.




LETTER LXXI

LONDON, May 22, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: I recommended to you, in my last, an innocent piece of art;
that of flattering people behind their backs, in presence of those who,
to make their own court, much more than for your sake, will not fail to
repeat and even amplify the praise to the party concerned. This is, of
all flattery, the most pleasing, and consequently the most effectual.
There are other, and many other, inoffensive arts of this kind, which are
necessary in the course of the world, and which he who practices the
earliest, will please the most, and rise the soonest. The spirits and
vivacity of youth are apt to neglect them as useless, or reject them as
troublesome. But subsequent knowledge and experience of the world reminds
us of their importance, commonly when it is too late. The principal of
these things is the mastery of one's temper, and that coolness of mind,
and serenity of countenance, which hinders us from discovering by words,
actions, or even looks, those passions or sentiments by which we are
inwardly moved or agitated; and the discovery of which gives cooler and
abler people such infinite advantages over us, not only in great
business, but in all the most common occurrences of life. A man who does
not possess himself enough to hear disagreeable things without visible
marks of anger and change of countenance, or agreeable ones, without
sudden bursts of joy and expansion of countenance, is at the mercy of
every artful knave or pert coxcomb; the former will provoke or please you
by design, to catch unguarded words or looks by which he will easily
decipher the secrets of your heart, of which you should keep the key
yourself, and trust it with no man living. The latter will, by his
absurdity, and without intending it, produce the same discoveries of
which other people will avail themselves. You will say, possibly, that
this coolness must be constitutional, and consequently does not depend
upon the will: and I will allow that constitution has some power over us;
but I will maintain, too, that people very often, to excuse themselves,
very unjustly accuse their constitutions. Care and reflection, if
properly used, will get the better: and a man may as surely get a habit
of letting his reason prevail over his constitution, as of letting, as
most people do, the latter prevail over the former. If you find yourself
subject to sudden starts of passion or madness (for I see no difference
between them but in their duration), resolve within yourself, at least,
never to speak one word while you feel that emotion within you.
Determine, too, to keep your countenance as unmoved and unembarrassed as
possible; which steadiness you may get a habit of, by constant attention.
I should desire nothing better, in any negotiation, than to have to do
with one of those men of warm, quick passions; which I would take care to
set in motion. By artful provocations I would extort rash unguarded
expressions; and, by hinting at all the several things that I could
suspect, infallibly discover the true one, by the alteration it
occasioned in the countenance of the person. 'Volto sciolto con pensieri
stretti', is a most useful maxim in business. It is so necessary at some
games, such as 'Berlan Quinze', etc., that a man who had not the command
of his temper and countenance, would infallibly be outdone by those who
had, even though they played fair. Whereas, in business, you always play
with sharpers; to whom, at least, you should give no fair advantages. It
may be objected, that I am now recommending dissimulation to you; I both
own and justify it. It has been long said, 'Qui nescit dissimulare nescit
regnare': I go still further, and say, that without some dissimulation no
business can be carried on at all. It is SIMULATION that is false, mean,
and criminal: that is the cunning which Lord Bacon calls crooked or
left-handed wisdom, and which is never made use of but by those who have
not true wisdom. And the same great man says, that dissimulation is only
to hide our own cards, whereas simulation is put on, in order to look
into other people's. Lord Bolingbroke, in his "Idea of a Patriot King,"
which he has lately published, and which I will send you by the first
opportunity, says very justly that simulation is a STILETTO,--not only an
unjust but an unlawful weapon, and the use of it very rarely to be
excused, never justified. Whereas dissimulation is a shield, as secrecy
is armor; and it is no more possible to preserve secrecy in business,
without same degree of dissimulation, than it is to succeed in business
without secrecy. He goes on, and says, that those two arts of
dissimulation and secrecy are like the alloy mingled with pure ore: a
little is necessary, and will not debase the coin below its proper
standard; but if more than that little be employed (that is, simulation
and cunning), the coin loses its currency, and the coiner his credit.

Make yourself absolute master, therefore, of your temper and your
countenance, so far, at least, as that no visible change do appear in
either, whatever you may feel inwardly. This may be difficult, but it is
by no means impossible; and, as a man of sense never attempts
impossibilities on one hand, on the other, he is never discouraged by
difficulties: on the contrary, he redoubles his industry and his
diligence; he perseveres, and infallibly prevails at last. In any point
which prudence bids you pursue, and which a manifest utility attends, let
difficulties only animate your industry, not deter you from the pursuit.
If one way has failed, try another; be active, persevere, and you will
conquer. Some people are to be reasoned, some flattered, some
intimidated, and some teased into a thing; but, in general, all are to be
brought into it at last, if skillfully applied to, properly managed, and
indefatigably attacked in their several weak places. The time should
likewise be judiciously chosen; every man has his 'mollia tempora', but
that is far from being all day long; and you would choose your time very
ill, if you applied to a man about one business, when his head was full
of another, or when his heart was full of grief, anger, or any other
disagreeable sentiment.

In order to judge of the inside of others, study your own; for men in
general are very much alike; and though one has one prevailing passion,
and another has another, yet their operations are much the same; and
whatever engages or disgusts, pleases or offends you, in others will,
'mutatis mutandis', engage, disgust, please, or offend others, in you.
Observe with the utmost attention all the operations of your own mind,
the nature of your passions, and the various motives that determine your
will; and you may, in a great degree, know all mankind. For instance, do
you find yourself hurt and mortified when another makes you feel his
superiority, and your own inferiority, in knowledge, parts, rank, or
fortune? You will certainly take great care not to make a person whose
good will, good word, interest, esteem, or friendship, you would gain,
feel that superiority in you, in case you have it. If disagreeable
insinuations, sly sneers, or repeated contradictions, tease and irritate
you, would you use them where you wish to engage and please? Surely not,
and I hope you wish to engage and please, almost universally. The
temptation of saying a smart and witty thing, or 'bon mot'; and the
malicious applause with which it is commonly received, has made people
who can say them, and, still oftener, people who think they can, but
cannot, and yet try, more enemies, and implacable ones too, than any one
other thing that I know of: When such things, then, shall happen to be
said at your expense (as sometimes they certainly will), reflect
seriously upon the sentiments of uneasiness, anger, and resentment which
they excite in you; and consider whether it can be prudent, by the same
means, to excite the same sentiments in others against you. It is a
decided folly to lose a friend for a jest; but, in my mind, it is not a
much less degree of folly to make an enemy of an indifferent and neutral
person, for the sake of a 'bon mot'. When things of this kind happen to
be said of you, the most prudent way is to seem not to suppose that they
are meant at you, but to dissemble and conceal whatever degree of anger
you may feel inwardly; but, should they be so plain that you cannot be
supposed ignorant of their meaning, to join in the laugh of the company
against yourself; acknowledge the hit to be a fair one, and the jest a
good one, and play off the whole thing in seeming good humor; but by no
means reply in the same way; which only shows that you are hurt, and
publishes the victory which you might have concealed. Should the thing
said, indeed injure your honor or moral character, there is but one
proper reply; which I hope you never will have occasion to make.

As the female part of the world has some influence, and often too much,
over the male, your conduct with regard to women (I mean women of
fashion, for I cannot suppose you capable of conversing with any others)
deserves some share in your reflections. They are a numerous and
loquacious body: their hatred would be more prejudicial than their
friendship can be advantageous to you. A general complaisance and
attention to that sex is therefore established by custom, and certainly
necessary. But where you would particularly please anyone, whose
situation, interest, or connections, can be of use to you, you must show
particular preference. The least attentions please, the greatest charm
them. The innocent but pleasing flattery of their persons, however gross,
is greedily swallowed and kindly digested: but a seeming regard for their
understandings, a seeming desire of, and deference for, their advice,
together with a seeming confidence in their moral virtues, turns their
heads entirely in your favor. Nothing shocks them so much as the least
appearance of that contempt which they are apt to suspect men of
entertaining of their capacities; and you may be very sure of gaining
their friendship if you seem to think it worth gaining. Here
dissimulation is very often necessary, and even simulation sometimes
allowable; which, as it pleases them, may, be useful to you, and is
injurious to nobody.

This torn sheet, which I did not observe when I began upon it, as it
alters the figure, shortens, too, the length of my letter. It may very
well afford it: my anxiety for you carries me insensibly to these
lengths. I am apt to flatter myself, that my experience, at the latter
end of my life, may be of use to you at the beginning of yours; and I do
not grudge the greatest trouble, if it can procure you the least
advantage. I even repeat frequently the same things, the better to
imprint them on your young, and, I suppose, yet giddy mind; and I shall
think that part of my time the best employed, that contributes to make
you employ yours well. God bless you, child!




LETTER LXXII

LONDON, June 16, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: I do not guess where this letter will find you, but I hope it
will find you well: I direct it eventually to Laubach; from whence I
suppose you have taken care to have your letters sent after you. I
received no account from Mr. Harte by last post, and the mail due this
day is not yet come in; so that my informations come down no lower than
the 2d June, N. S., the date of Mr. Harte's last letter. As I am now easy
about your health, I am only curious about your motions, which I hope
have been either to Inspruck or Verona; for I disapprove extremely of
your proposed long and troublesome journey to Switzerland. Wherever you
may be, I recommend to you to get as much Italian as you can, before you
go either to Rome or Naples: a little will be of great use to you upon
the road; and the knowledge of the grammatical part, which you can easily
acquire in two or three months, will not only facilitate your progress,
but accelerate your perfection in that language, when you go to those
places where it is generally spoken; as Naples, Rome, Florence, etc.

Should the state of your health not yet admit of your usual application
to books, you may, in a great degree, and I hope you will, repair that
loss by useful and instructive conversations with Mr. Harte: you may, for
example, desire him to give you in conversation the outlines, at least,
of Mr. Locke's logic; a general notion of ethics, and a verbal epitome of
rhetoric; of all which Mr. Harte will give you clearer ideas in half an
hour, by word of mouth, than the books of most of the dull fellows who
have written upon those subjects would do in a week.

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

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




LETTER LXXIII

LONDON, June 22, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: The outside of your letter of the 7th N. S., directed by your
own hand, gave me more pleasure than the inside of any other letter ever
did. I received it yesterday at the same time with one from Mr. Harts of
the 6th. They arrived at a very proper time, for they found a
consultation of physicians in my room, upon account of a fever which I
had for four or five days, but which has now entirely left me. As Mr.
Harte Says THAT YOUR LUNGS NOW AND THEN GIVE YOU A LITTLE PAIN, and that
YOUR SWELLINGS COME AND GO VARIABLY, but as he mentions nothing of your
coughing, spitting, or sweating, the doctors take it for granted that you
are entirely free from those three bad symptoms: and from thence
conclude, that, the pain which you sometimes feel upon your lungs is only
symptomatical of your rheumatic disorder, from the pressure of the
muscles which hinders the free play of the lungs. But, however, as the
lungs are a point of the utmost importance and delicacy, they insist upon
your drinking, in all events, asses' milk twice a day, and goats' whey as
often as you please, the oftener the better: in your common diet, they
recommend an attention to pectorals, such as sago, barley, turnips, etc.
These rules are equally good in rheumatic as in consumptive cases; you
will therefore, I hope, strictly observe them; for I take it for granted
that you are above the silly likings or dislikings, in which silly people
indulge their tastes, at the expense of their health.

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

The time which you will probably pass at Venice will allow you to make
yourself master of that intricate and singular form of government, of
which few of our travelers know anything. Read, ask, and see everything
that is relative to it. There are likewise many valuable remains of the
remotest antiquity, and many fine pieces of the Antico-moderno, all which
deserve a different sort of attention from that which your countrymen
commonly give them. They go to see them, as they go to see the lions, and
kings on horseback, at the Tower here, only to say that they have seen
them. You will, I am sure, view them in another light; you will consider
them as you would a poem, to which indeed they are akin. You will observe
whether the sculptor has animated his stone, or the painter his canvas,
into the just expression of those sentiments and passions which should
characterize and mark their several figures. You will examine, likewise,
whether in their groups there be a unity of action, or proper relation; a
truth of dress and manners. Sculpture and painting are very justly called
liberal arts; a lively and strong imagination, together with a just
observation, being absolutely necessary to excel in either; which, in my
opinion, is by no means the case of music, though called a liberal art,
and now in Italy placed even above the other two; a proof of the decline
of that country. The Venetian school produced many great painters, such
as Paul Veronese, Titian, Palma, etc., of whom you will see, as well in
private houses as in churches, very fine pieces. The Last Supper, of Paul
Veronese, in the church of St. George, is reckoned his capital
performance, and deserves your attention; as does also the famous picture
of the Cornaro Family, by Titian. A taste for sculpture and painting is,
in my mind, as becoming as a taste for fiddling and piping is unbecoming,
a man of fashion. The former is connected with history and poetry; the
latter, with nothing that I know of but bad company.

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

Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him that I have consulted
about his leg, and that if it was only a sprain, he ought to keep a tight
bandage about the part, for a considerable time, and do nothing else to
it. Adieu! 'Jubeo te bene valere'.




LETTER LXXIV

LONDON, July 6, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: As I am now no longer in pain about your health, which I trust
is perfectly restored; and as, by the various accounts I have had of you,
I need not be in pain about your learning, our correspondence may, for
the future, turn upon less important points, comparatively; though still
very important ones: I mean, the knowledge of the world, decorum,
manners, address, and all those (commonly called little) accomplishments,
which are absolutely necessary to give greater accomplishments their
full, value and lustre.

Had I the admirable ring of Gyges, which rendered the wearer invisible;
and had I, at the same time, those magic powers, which were very common
formerly, but are now very scarce, of transporting myself, by a wish, to
any given place, my first expedition would be to Venice, there to
RECONNOITRE you, unseen myself. I would first take you in the morning, at
breakfast with Mr. Harte, and attend to your natural and unguarded
conversation with him; from whence, I think, I could pretty well judge of
your natural turn of mind. How I should rejoice if I overheard you asking
him pertinent questions upon useful subjects! or making judicious
reflections upon the studies of that morning, or the occurrences of the
former day! Then I would follow you into the different companies of the
day, and carefully observe in what manner you presented yourself to, and
behaved yourself with, men of sense and dignity; whether your address was
respectful, and yet easy; your air modest, and yet unembarrassed; and I
would, at the same time, penetrate into their thoughts, in order to know
whether your first 'abord' made that advantageous impression upon their
fancies, which a certain address, air, and manners, never fail doing. I
would afterward follow you to the mixed companies of the evening; such as
assemblies, suppers, etc., and there watch if you trifled gracefully and
genteelly: if your good-breeding and politeness made way for your parts
and knowledge. With what pleasure should I hear people cry out, 'Che
garbato cavaliere, com' e pulito, disinvolto, spiritoso'! If all these
things turned out to my mind, I would immediately assume my own shape,
become visible, and embrace you: but if the contrary happened, I would
preserve my invisibility, make the best of my way home again, and sink my
disappointment upon you and the world. As, unfortunately, these
supernatural powers of genii, fairies, sylphs, and gnomes, have had the
fate of the oracles they succeeded, and have ceased for some time, I must
content myself (till we meet naturally, and in the common way) with Mr.
Harte's written accounts of you, and the verbal ones which I now and then
receive from people who have seen you. However, I believe it would do you
no harm, if you would always imagine that I were present, and saw and
heard everything you did and said.