Letters to His Son, 1749

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


I am very glad that you have received the diamond buckles safe; all I
desire in return for them is, that they may be buckled even upon your
feet, and that your stockings may not hide them. I should be sorry that
you were an egregious fop; but, I protest, that of the two, I would
rather have you a fop than a sloven. I think negligence in my own dress,
even at my age, when certainly I expect no advantages from my dress,
would be indecent with regard to others. I have done with fine clothes;
but I will have my plain clothes fit me, and made like other people's: In
the evenings, I recommend to you the company of women of fashion, who
have a right to attention and will be paid it. Their company will smooth
your manners, and give you a habit of attention and respect, of which you
will find the advantage among men.

My plan for you, from the beginning, has been to make you shine equally
in the learned and in the polite world; the former part is almost
completed to my wishes, and will, I am persuaded, in a little time more,
be quite so. The latter part is still in your power to complete; and I
flatter myself that you will do it, or else the former part will avail
you very little; especially in your department, where the exterior
address and graces do half the business; they must be the harbingers of
your merit, or your merit will be very coldly received; all can, and do
judge of the former, few of the latter.

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

I would wish you to be the omnis homo, 'l'homme universel'. You are
nearer it, if you please, than ever anybody was at your age; and if you
will but, for the course of this next year only, exert your whole
attention to your studies in the morning, and to your address, manners,
air and tournure in the evenings, you will be the man I wish you, and the
man that is rarely seen.

Our letters go, at best, so irregularly, and so often miscarry totally,
that for greater security I repeat the same things. So, though I
acknowledged by last post Mr. Harte's letter of the 8th September, N. S.,
I acknowledge it again by this to you. If this should find you still at
Verona, let it inform you that I wish you would set out soon for Naples;
unless Mr. Harte should think it better for you to stay at Verona, or any
other place on this side Rome, till you go there for the Jubilee. Nay, if
he likes it better, I am very willing that you should go directly from
Verona to Rome; for you cannot have too much of Rome, whether upon
account of the language, the curiosities, or the company. My only reason
for mentioning Naples, is for the sake of the climate, upon account of
your health; but if Mr. Harte thinks that your health is now so well
restored as to be above climate, he may steer your course wherever he
thinks proper: and, for aught I know, your going directly to Rome, and
consequently staying there so much the longer, may be as well as anything
else. I think you and I cannot put our affairs in better hands than in
Mr. Harte's; and I will stake his infallibility against the Pope's, with
some odds on his side. Apropos of the Pope: remember to be presented to
him before you leave Rome, and go through the necessary ceremonies for
it, whether of kissing his slipper or his b---h; for I would never
deprive myself of anything that I wanted to do or see, by refusing to
comply with an established custom. When I was in Catholic countries, I
never declined kneeling in their churches at the elevation, nor
elsewhere, when the Host went by. It is a complaisance due to the custom
of the place, and by no means, as some silly people have imagined, an
implied approbation of their doctrine. Bodily attitudes and situations
are things so very indifferent in themselves, that I would quarrel with
nobody about them. It may, indeed, be improper for Mr. Harte to pay that
tribute of complaisance, upon account of his character.

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




LETTER LXXXIII

LONDON, September 27, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: A vulgar, ordinary way of thinking, acting, or speaking,
implies a low education, and a habit of low company. Young people
contract it at school, or among servants, with whom they are too often
used to converse; but after they frequent good company, they must want
attention and observation very much, if they do not lay it quite aside;
and, indeed, if they do not, good company will be very apt to lay them
aside. The various kinds of vulgarisms are infinite; I cannot pretend to
point them out to you; but I will give some samples, by which you may
guess at the rest.

A vulgar man is captious and jealous; eager and impetuous about trifles.
He suspects himself to be slighted, thinks everything that is said meant
at him: if the company happens to laugh, he is persuaded they laugh at
him; he grows angry and testy, says something very impertinent, and draws
himself into a scrape, by showing what he calls a proper spirit, and
asserting himself. A man of fashion does not suppose himself to be either
the sole or principal object of the thoughts, looks, or words of the
company; and never suspects that he is either slighted or laughed at,
unless he is conscious that he deserves it. And if (which very seldom
happens) the company is absurd or ill-bred enough to do either, he does
not care twopence, unless the insult be so gross and plain as to require
satisfaction of another kind. As he is above trifles, he is never
vehement and eager about them; and, wherever they are concerned, rather
acquiesces than wrangles. A vulgar man's conversation always savors
strongly of the lowness of his education and company. It turns chiefly
upon his domestic affairs, his servants, the excellent order he keeps in
his own family, and the little anecdotes of the neighborhood; all which
he relates with emphasis, as interesting matters. He is a man gossip.

Vulgarism in language is the next and distinguishing characteristic of
bad company and a bad education. A man of fashion avoids nothing with
more care than that. Proverbial expressions and trite sayings are the
flowers of the rhetoric of a vulgar man. Would he say that men differ in
their tastes; he both supports and adorns that opinion by the good old
saying, as he respectfully calls it, that WHAT IS ONE MAN'S MEAT, IS
ANOTHER MAN'S POISON. If anybody attempts being SMART, as he calls it,
upon him, he gives them TIT FOR TAT, aye, that he does. He has always
some favorite word for the time being; which, for the sake of using
often, he commonly abuses. Such as VASTLY angry, VASTLY kind, VASTLY
handsome, and VASTLY ugly. Even his pronunciation of proper words carries
the mark of the beast along with it. He calls the earth YEARTH; he is
OBLEIGED, not OBLIGED to you. He goes TO WARDS, and not TOWARDS, such a
place. He sometimes affects hard words, by way of ornament, which he
always mangles like a learned woman. A man of fashion never has recourse
to proverbs and vulgar aphorisms; uses neither favorite words nor hard
words; but takes great care to speak very correctly and grammatically,
and to pronounce properly; that is, according to the usage of the best
companies.

An awkward address, ungraceful attitudes and actions, and a certain
left-handedness (if I may use that word), loudly proclaim low education
and low company; for it is impossible to suppose that a man can have
frequented good company, without having catched something, at least, of
their air and motions. A new raised man is distinguished in a regiment by
his awkwardness; but he must be impenetrably dull, if, in a month or
two's time, he cannot perform at least the common manual exercise, and
look like a soldier. The very accoutrements of a man of fashion are
grievous encumbrances to a vulgar man. He is at a loss what to do with
his hat, when it is not upon his head; his cane (if unfortunately he
wears one) is at perpetual war with every cup of tea or coffee he drinks;
destroys them first, and then accompanies them in their fall. His sword
is formidable only to his own legs, which would possibly carry him fast
enough out of the way of any sword but his own. His clothes fit him so
ill, and constrain him so much, that he seems rather, their prisoner than
their proprietor. He presents himself in company like a criminal in a
court of justice; his very air condemns him; and people of fashion will
no more connect themselves with the one, than people of character will
with the other. This repulse drives and sinks him into low company; a
gulf from whence no man, after a certain age, ever emerged.

'Les manieres nobles et aisees, la tournure d'un homme de condition, le
ton de la bonne compagnie, les graces, le jeune sais quoi, qui plait',
are as necessary to adorn and introduce your intrinsic merit and
knowledge, as the polish is to the diamond; which, without that polish,
would never be worn, whatever it might weigh. Do not imagine that these
accomplishments are only useful with women; they are much more so with
men. In a public assembly, what an advantage has a graceful speaker, with
genteel motions, a handsome figure, and a liberal air, over one who shall
speak full as much good sense, but destitute of these ornaments? In
business, how prevalent are the graces, how detrimental is the want of
them? By the help of these I have known some men refuse favors less
offensively than others granted them. The utility of them in courts and
negotiations is inconceivable. You gain the hearts, and consequently the
secrets, of nine in ten, that you have to do with, in spite even of their
prudence; which will, nine times in ten, be the dupe of their hearts and
of their senses. Consider the importance of these things as they deserve,
and you will not lose one minute in the pursuit of them.

You are traveling now in a country once so famous both for arts and arms,
that (however degenerate at present) it still deserves your attention and
reflection. View it therefore with care, compare its former with its
present state, and examine into the causes of its rise and its decay.
Consider it classically and politically, and do not run through it, as
too many of your young countrymen do, musically, and (to use a ridiculous
word) KNICK-KNACKICALLY. No piping nor fiddling, I beseech you; no days
lost in poring upon almost imperceptible 'intaglios and cameos': and do
not become a virtuoso of small wares. Form a taste of painting,
sculpture, and architecture, if you please, by a careful examination of
the works of the best ancient and modern artists; those are liberal arts,
and a real taste and knowledge of them become a man of fashion very well.
But, beyond certain bounds, the man of taste ends, and the frivolous
virtuoso begins.

Your friend Mendes, the good Samaritan, dined with me yesterday. He has
more good-nature and generosity than parts. However, I will show him all
the civilities that his kindness to you so justly deserves. He tells me
that you are taller than I am, which I am very glad of: I desire that you
may excel me in everything else too; and, far from repining, I shall
rejoice at your superiority. He commends your friend Mr. Stevens
extremely; of whom too I have heard so good a character from other
people, that I am very glad of your connection with him. It may prove of
use to you hereafter. When you meet with such sort of Englishmen abroad,
who, either from their parts or their rank, are likely to make a figure
at home, I would advise you to cultivate them, and get their favorable
testimony of you here, especially those who are to return to England
before you. Sir Charles Williams has puffed you (as the mob call it) here
extremely. If three or four more people of parts do the same, before you
come back, your first appearance in London will be to great advantage.
Many people do, and indeed ought, to take things upon trust; many more
do, who need not; and few dare dissent from an established opinion.
Adieu!




LETTER LXXXIV

LONDON, October 2, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: I received by the last post your letter of the 22d September,
N. S., but I have not received that from Mr. Harte to which you refer,
and which you say contained your reasons for leaving Verona, and
returning to Venice; so that I am entirely ignorant of them. Indeed the
irregularity and negligence of the post provoke me, as they break the
thread of the accounts I want to receive from you, and of the
instructions and orders which I send you, almost every post. Of these
last twenty posts.

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

Upon the receipt, then, of this letter, you will as soon as conveniently
you can, set out for Rome; where you will not arrive too long before the
jubilee, considering the difficulties of getting lodgings, and other
accommodations there at this time. I leave the choice of the route to
you; but I do by no means intend that you should leave Rome after the
jubilee, as you seem to hint in your letter: on the contrary, I will have
Rome your headquarters for six months at least; till you shall have, in a
manner, acquired the 'Jus Civitatis' there. More things are to be seen
and learned there, than in any other town in Europe; there are the best
masters to instruct, and the best companies to polish you. In the spring
you may make (if you please) frequent excursions to Naples; but Rome must
still be your headquarters, till the heats of June drive you from thence
to some other place in Italy, which we shall think of by that time. As to
the expense which you mention, I do not regard it in the least; from your
infancy to this day, I never grudged any expense in your education, and
still less do it now, that it is become more important and decisive: I
attend to the objects of your expenses, but not to the sums. I will
certainly not pay one shilling for your losing your nose, your money, or
your reason; that is, I will not contribute to women, gaming, and
drinking. But I will most cheerfully supply, not only every necessary,
but every decent expense you can make. I do not care what the best
masters cost. I would have you as well dressed, lodged, and attended, as
any reasonable man of fashion is in his travels. I would have you have
that pocket-money that should enable you to make the proper expense 'd'un
honnete homme'. In short, I bar no expense, that has neither vice nor
folly for its object; and under those two reasonable restrictions, draw,
and welcome.

As for Turin, you may go there hereafter, as a traveler, for a month or
two; but you cannot conveniently reside there as an academician, for
reasons which I have formerly communicated to Mr. Harte, and which Mr.
Villettes, since his return here, has shown me in a still stronger light
than he had done by his letters from Turin, of which I sent copies to Mr.
Harte, though probably he never received them.

After you have left Rome, Florence is one of the places with which you
should be thoroughly acquainted. I know that there is a great deal of
gaming there; but, at the same time, there are in every place some people
whose fortunes are either too small, or whose understandings are too good
to allow them to play for anything above trifles; and with those people
you will associate yourself, if you have not (as I am assured you have
not, in the least) the spirit of gaming in you. Moreover, at suspected
places, such as Florence, Turin, and Paris, I shall be more attentive to
your draughts, and such as exceed a proper and handsome expense will not
be answered; for I can easily know whether you game or not without being
told.

Mr. Harte will determine your route to Rome as he shall think best;
whether along the coast of the Adriatic, or that of the Mediterranean, it
is equal to me; but you will observe to come back a different way from
that you went.

Since your health is so well restored, I am not sorry that you have
returned to Venice, for I love capitals. Everything is best at capitals;
the best masters, the best companions, and the best manners. Many other
places are worth seeing, but capitals only are worth residing at. I am
very glad that Madame Capello received you so well. Monsieur I was sure
would: pray assure them both of my respects, and of my sensibility of
their kindness to you. Their house will be a very good one for you at
Rome; and I would advise you to be domestic in it if you can. But Madame,
I can tell you, requires great attentions. Madame Micheli has written a
very favorable account of you to my friend the Abbe Grossa Testa, in a
letter which he showed me, and in which there are so many civil things to
myself, that I would wish to tell her how much I think myself obliged to
her. I approve very much of the allotment of your time at Venice; pray go
on so for a twelvemonth at least, wherever you are. You will find your
own account in it.

I like your last letter, which gives me an account of yourself, and your
own transactions; for though I do not recommend the EGOTISM to you, with
regard to anybody else, I desire that you will use it with me, and with
me only. I interest myself in all that you do; and as yet (excepting Mr.
Harte) nobody else does. He must of course know all, and I desire to know
a great deal.

I am glad you have received, and that you like the diamond buckles. I am
very willing that you should make, but very unwilling that you should CUT
a figure with them at the jubilee; the CUTTING A FIGURE being the very
lowest vulgarism in the English language; and equal in elegancy to Yes,
my Lady, and No, my Lady. The word VAST and VASTLY, you will have found
by my former letter that I had proscribed out of the diction of a
gentleman, unless in their proper signification of sizes and BULK. Not
only in language, but in everything else, take great care that the first
impressions you give of yourself may be not only favorable, but pleasing,
engaging, nay, seducing. They are often decisive; I confess they are a
good deal so with me: and I cannot wish for further acquaintance with a
man whose first 'abord' and address displease me.

So many of my letters have miscarried, and I know so little which, that I
am forced to repeat the same thing over and over again eventually. This
is one. I have wrote twice to Mr. Harte, to have your picture drawn in
miniature, while you were at Venice; and send it me in a letter: it is
all one to me whether in enamel or in watercolors, provided it is but
very like you. I would have you drawn exactly as you are, and in no
whimsical dress: and I lay more stress upon the likeness of the picture,
than upon the taste and skill of the painter. If this be not already
done, I desire that you will have it done forthwith before you leave
Venice; and inclose it in a letter to me, which letter, for greater
security, I would have you desire Sir James Gray to inclose in his packet
to the office; as I, for the same, reason, send this under his cover. If
the picture be done upon vellum, it will be the most portable. Send me,
at the same time, a thread of silk of your own length exactly. I am
solicitous about your figure; convinced, by a thousand instances, that a
good one is a real advantage. 'Mens sana in corpore sano', is the first
and greatest blessing. I would add 'et pulchro', to complete it. May you
have that and every other! Adieu.

Have you received my letters of recommendation to Cardinal Albani and the
Duke de Nivernois, at Rome?




LETTER LXXXV

LONDON, October 9, O. S. 1749.

DEAR BOY: If this letter finds you at all, of which I am very doubtful,
it will find you at Venice, preparing for your journey to Rome; which, by
my last letter to Mr. Harte, I advised you to make along the coast of the
Adriatic, through Rimini, Loretto, Ancona, etc., places that are all
worth seeing; but not worth staying at. And such I reckon all places
where the eyes only are employed. Remains of antiquity, public buildings,
paintings, sculptures, etc., ought to be seen, and that with a proper
degree of attention; but this is soon done, for they are only outsides.
It is not so with more important objects; the insides of which must be
seen; and they require and deserve much more attention. The characters,
the heads, and the hearts of men, are the useful science of which I
would have you perfect master. That science is best taught and best
learned in capitals, where every human passion has its object, and exerts
all its force or all its art in the pursuit. I believe there is no place
in the world, where every passion is busier, appears in more shapes, and
is conducted with more art, than at Rome. Therefore, when you are there,
do not imagine that the Capitol, the Vatican, and the Pantheon, are the
principal objects of your curiosity. But for one minute that you bestow
upon those, employ ten days in informing yourself of the nature of that
government, the rise and decay of the papal power, the politics of that
court, the 'Brigues' of the cardinals, the tricks of the Conclaves; and,
in general, everything that relates to the interior of that extraordinary
government, founded originally upon the ignorance and superstition of
mankind, extended by the weakness of some princes, and the ambition of
others; declining of late in proportion as knowledge has increased; and
owing its present precarious security, not to the religion, the
affection, or the fear of the temporal powers, but to the jealousy of
each other. The Pope's excommunications are no longer dreaded; his
indulgences little solicited, and sell very cheap; and his territories
formidable to no power, are coveted by many, and will, most undoubtedly,
within a century, be scantled out among the great powers, who have now a
footing in Italy, whenever they can agree upon the division of the bear's
skin. Pray inform yourself thoroughly of the history of the popes and the
popedom; which, for many centuries, is interwoven with the history of all
Europe. Read the best authors who treat of these matters, and especially
Fra Paolo, 'De Beneficiis', a short, but very material book. You will
find at Rome some of all the religious orders in the Christian world.
Inform yourself carefully of their origin, their founders, their rules,
their reforms, and even their dresses: get acquainted with some of all of
them, but particularly with the Jesuits; whose society I look upon to be
the most able and best governed society in the world. Get acquainted, if
you can, with their General, who always resides at Rome; and who, though
he has no seeming power out of his own society, has (it may be) more real
influence over the whole world, than any temporal prince in it. They have
almost engrossed the education of youth; they are, in general, confessors
to most of the princes of Europe; and they are the principal missionaries
out of it; which three articles give them a most extensive influence and
solid advantages; witness their settlement in Paraguay. The Catholics in
general declaim against that society; and yet are all governed by
individuals of it. They have, by turns, been banished, and with infamy,
almost every country in Europe; and have always found means to be
restored, even with triumph. In short, I know no government in the world
that is carried on upon such deep principles of policy, I will not add
morality. Converse with them, frequent them, court them; but know them.

Inform yourself, too, of that infernal court, the Inquisition; which,
though not so considerable at Rome as in Spain and Portugal, will,
however, be a good sample to you of what the villainy of some men can
contrive, the folly of others receive, and both together establish, in
spite of the first natural principles of reason, justice, and equity.

These are the proper and useful objects of the attention of a man of
sense, when he travels; and these are the objects for which I have sent
you abroad; and I hope you will return thoroughly informed of them.

I receive this very moment Mr. Harte's letter of the 1st October, N. S.,
but I never received his former, to which he refers in this, and you
refer in your last; in which he gave me the reasons for your leaving
Verona so soon; nor have I ever received that letter in which your case
was stated by your physicians. Letters to and from me have worse luck
than other people's; for you have written to me, and I to you, for these
last three months, by way of Germany, with as little success as before.