Letters to His Son, 1753 to 1754

T >> The Earl of Chesterfield >> Letters to His Son, 1753 to 1754


I can assure you, that you will have no opportunity of subscribing
yourself my Excellency's, etc. Retirement and quiet were my choice some
years ago, while I had all my senses, and health and spirits enough to
carry on business; but now that I have lost my hearing, and that I find
my constitution declining daily, they are become my necessary and only
refuge. I know myself (no common piece of knowledge, let me tell you), I
know what I can, what I cannot, and consequently what I ought to do. I
ought not, and therefore will not, return to business when I am much less
fit for it than I was when I quitted it. Still less will I go to Ireland,
where, from my deafness and infirmities, I must necessarily make a
different figure from that which I once made there. My pride would be too
much mortified by that difference. The two important senses of seeing and
hearing should not only be good, but quick, in business; and the business
of a Lord-lieutenant of Ireland (if he will do it himself) requires both
those senses in the highest perfection. It was the Duke of Dorset's not
doing the business himself, but giving it up to favorites, that has
occasioned all this confusion in Ireland; and it was my doing the whole
myself, without either Favorite, Minister, or Mistress, that made my
administration so smooth and quiet. I remember, when I named the late Mr.
Liddel for my Secretary, everybody was much surprised at it; and some of
my friends represented to me, that he was no man of business, but only a
very genteel, pretty young fellow; I assured them, and with truth, that
that was the very reason why I chose him; for that I was resolved to do
all the business myself, and without even the suspicion of having a
minister; which the Lord-lieutenant's Secretary, if he is a man of
business, is always supposed, and commonly with reason, to be. Moreover,
I look upon myself now to be emeritus in business, in which I have been
near forty years together; I give it up to you: apply yourself to it, as
I have done, for forty years, and then I consent to your leaving it for a
philosophical retirement among your friends and your books. Statesmen and
beauties are very rarely sensible of the gradations of their decay; and,
too often sanguinely hoping to shine on in their meridian, often set with
contempt and ridicule. I retired in time, 'uti conviva satur'; or, as
Pope says still better, ERE TITTERING YOUTH SHALL SHOVE YOU FROM THE
STAGE. My only remaining ambition is to be the counsellor and minister of
your rising ambition. Let me see my own youth revived in you; let me be
your Mentor, and, with your parts and knowledge, I promise you, you shall
go far. You must bring, on your part, activity and attention; and I will
point out to you the proper objects for them. I own I fear but one thing
for you, and that is what one has generally the least reason to fear from
one of your age; I mean your laziness; which, if you indulge, will make
you stagnate in a contemptible obscurity all your life. It will hinder
you from doing anything that will deserve to be written, or from writing
anything that may deserve to be read; and yet one or other of those two
objects should be at least aimed at by every rational being.

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

I wish you would use yourself to translate, every day, only three or four
lines, from any book, in any language, into the correctest and most
elegant English that you can think of; you cannot imagine how it will
insensibly form your style, and give you an habitual elegance; it would
not take you up a quarter of an hour in a day. This letter is so long,
that it will hardly leave you that quarter of an hour, the day you
receive it. So good-night.




LETTER CXCVIII

LONDON, March 8, 1754

MY DEAR FRIEND: A great and unexpected event has lately happened in our
ministerial world. Mr. Pelham died last Monday of a fever and
mortification, occasioned by a general corruption of his whole mass of
blood, which had broke out into sores in his back. I regret him as an old
acquaintance, a pretty near relation, and a private man, with whom I have
lived many years in a social and friendly way. He meant well to the
public; and was incorrupt in a post where corruption is commonly
contagious. If he was no shining, enterprising minister, he was a safe
one, which I like better. Very shining ministers, like the sun, are apt
to scorch when they shine the brightest: in our constitution, I prefer
the milder light of a less glaring minister. His successor is not yet, at
least publicly, 'designatus'. You will easily suppose that many are very
willing, and very few able, to fill that post. Various persons are talked
of, by different people, for it, according as their interest prompts them
to wish, or their ignorance to conjecture. Mr. Fox is the most talked of;
he is strongly supported by the Duke of Cumberland. Mr. Legge, the
Solicitor-General, and Dr. Lee, are likewise all spoken of, upon the foot
of the Duke of Newcastle's, and the Chancellor's interest. Should it be
any one of the last three, I think no great alterations will ensue; but
should Mr. Fox prevail, it would, in my opinion, soon produce changes by
no means favorable to the Duke of Newcastle. In the meantime, the wild
conjectures of volunteer politicians, and the ridiculous importance
which, upon these occasions, blockheads always endeavor to give
themselves, by grave looks, significant shrugs, and insignificant
whispers, are very entertaining to a bystander, as, thank God, I now am.
One KNOWS SOMETHING, but is not yet at liberty to tell it; another has
heard something from a very good hand; a third congratulates himself upon
a certain degree of intimacy, which he has long had with everyone of the
candidates, though perhaps he has never spoken twice to anyone of them.
In short, in these sort of intervals, vanity, interest, and absurdity,
always display themselves in the most ridiculous light. One who has been
so long behind the scenes as I have is much more diverted with the
entertainment, than those can be who only see it from the pit and boxes.
I know the whole machinery of the interior, and can laugh the better at
the silly wonder and wild conjectures of the uninformed spectators. This
accident, I think, cannot in the least affect your election, which is
finally settled with your friend Mr. Eliot. For, let who will prevail, I
presume, he will consider me enough, not to overturn an arrangement of
that sort, in which he cannot possibly be personally interested. So pray
go on with your parliamentary preparations. Have that object always in
your view, and pursue it with attention.

I take it for granted that your late residence in Germany has made you as
perfect and correct in German, as you were before in French, at least it
is worth your while to be so; because it is worth every man's while to be
perfectly master of whatever language he may ever have occasion to speak.
A man is not himself, in a language which he does not thoroughly possess;
his thoughts are degraded, when inelegantly or imperfectly expressed; he
is cramped and confined, and consequently can never appear to advantage.
Examine and analyze those thoughts that strike you the most, either in
conversation or in books; and you will find that they owe at least half
their merit to the turn and expression of them. There is nothing truer
than that old saying, 'Nihil dictum quod non prins dictum'. It is only
the manner of saying or writing it that makes it appear new. Convince
yourself that manner is almost everything, in everything; and study it
accordingly.

I am this moment informed, and I believe truly, that Mr. Fox--[Henry Fox,
created Lord Holland, Baron of Foxley, in the year 1763]--is to succeed
Mr. Pelham as First Commissioner of the Treasury and Chancellor of the
Exchequer; and your friend, Mr. Yorke, of The Hague, to succeed Mr. Fox
as Secretary at War. I am not sorry for this promotion of Mr. Fox, as I
have always been upon civil terms with him, and found him ready to do me
any little services. He is frank and gentleman-like in his manner: and,
to a certain degree, I really believe will be your friend upon my
account; if you can afterward make him yours, upon your own, 'tan mieux'.
I have nothing more to say now but Adieu.




LETTER CXCIX

LONDON, March 15, 1754

MY DEAR FRIEND: We are here in the midst of a second winter; the cold is
more severe, and the snow deeper, than they were in the first. I presume,
your weather in Germany is not much more gentle and, therefore, I hope
that you are quietly and warmly fixed at some good town: and will not
risk a second burial in the snow, after your late fortunate resurrection
out of it. Your letters, I suppose, have not been able to make their way
through the ice; for I have received none from you since that of the 12th
of February, from Ratisbon. I am the more uneasy at this state of
ignorance, because I fear that you may have found some subsequent
inconveniences from your overturn, which you might not be aware of at
first.

The curtain of the political theatre was partly drawn up the day before
yesterday, and exhibited a scene which the public in general did not
expect; the Duke of Newcastle was declared First Lord Commissioner of the
Treasury, Mr. Fox Secretary of State in his room, and Mr. Henry Legge
Chancellor of the Exchequer: The employments of Treasurer of the Navy,
and Secretary at War, supposed to be vacant by the promotion of Mr. Fox
and Mr. Legge, were to be kept 'in petto' till the dissolution of this
parliament, which will probably be next week, to avoid the expense and
trouble of unnecessary re-elections; but it was generally supposed that
Colonel Yorke, of The Hague, was to succeed Mr. Fox; and George
Greenville, Mr. Legge. This scheme, had it taken place, you are, I
believe aware, was more a temporary expedient, for securing the elections
of the new parliament, and forming it, at its first meeting, to the
interests and the inclinations of the Duke of Newcastle and the
Chancellor, than a plan of administration either intended or wished to be
permanent. This scheme was disturbed yesterday: Mr. Fox, who had sullenly
accepted the seals the day before, more sullenly refused them yesterday.
His object was to be First Commissioner of the Treasury, and Chancellor
of the Exchequer, and consequently to have a share in the election of the
new parliament, and a much greater in the management of it when chosen.
This necessary consequence of his view defeated it; and the Duke of
Newcastle and the Chancellor chose to kick him upstairs into the
Secretaryship of State, rather than trust him with either the election or
the management of the new parliament. In this, considering their
respective situations, they certainly acted wisely; but whether Mr. Fox
has done so, or not, in refusing the seals, is a point which I cannot
determine. If he is, as I presume he is, animated with revenge, and I
believe would not be over scrupulous in the means of gratifying it, I
should have thought he could have done it better, as Secretary of State,
with constant admission into the closet, than as a private man at the
head of an opposition. But I see all these things at too great a distance
to be able to judge soundly of them. The true springs and motives of
political measures are confined within a very narrow circle, and known to
a very few; the good reasons alleged are seldom the true ones: The public
commonly judges, or rather guesses, wrong, and I am now one of that
public. I therefore recommend to you a prudent Pyrrhonism in all matters
of state, until you become one of the wheels of them yourself, and
consequently acquainted with the general motion, at least, of the others;
for as to all the minute and secret springs, that contribute more or less
to the whole machine, no man living ever knows them all, not even he who
has the principal direction of it. As in the human body, there are
innumerable little vessels and glands that have a good deal to do, and
yet escape the knowledge of the most skillful anatomist; he will know
more, indeed, than those who only see the exterior of our bodies, but he
will never know all. This bustle, and these changes at court, far from
having disturbed the quiet and security of your election, have, if
possible, rather confirmed them; for the Duke of Newcastle (I must do him
justice) has, in, the kindest manner imaginable to you, wrote a letter to
Mr. Eliot, to recommend to him the utmost care of your election.

Though the plan of administration is thus unsettled, mine, for my travels
this summer, is finally settled; and I now communicate it to you that you
may form your own upon it. I propose being at Spa on the 10th or 12th of
May, and staying there till the 10th of July. As there will be no mortal
there during my stay, it would be both unpleasant and unprofitable to you
to be shut up tete-a-fete with me the whole time; I should therefore
think it best for you not to come to me there till the last week in June.
In the meantime, I suppose, that by the middle of April, you will think
that you have had enough of Manheim, Munich, or Ratisbon, and that
district. Where would you choose to go then? For I leave you absolutely
your choice. Would you go to Dresden for a month or six weeks? That is a
good deal out of your way, and I am not sure that Sir Charles will be
there by that time. Or would you rather take Bonn in your way, and pass
the time till we meet at The Hague? From Manheim you may have a great
many good letters of recommendation to the court of Bonn; which court,
and it's Elector, in one light or another, are worth your seeing.

From thence, your journey to The Hague will be but a short one; and you
would arrive there at that season of the year when The Hague is, in my
mind, the most agreeable, smiling scene in Europe; and from The Hague you
would have but three very easy days journey to me at Spa. Do as you like;
for, as I told you before, 'Ella e assolutamente padrone'. But lest you
should answer that you desire to be determined by me, I will eventually
tell you my opinion. I am rather inclined to the latter plan; I mean that
of your coming to Bonn, staying there according as you like it, and then
passing the remainder of your time, that is May and June, at The Hague.
Our connection and transactions with the Republic of the United
Provinces are such, that you cannot be too well acquainted with that
constitution, and with those people. You have established good
acquaintances there, and you have been 'fetoie' round by the foreign
ministers; so that you will be there 'en pais connu'. Moreover, you have
not seen the Stadtholder, the 'Gouvernante', nor the court there, which
'a bon compte' should be seen. Upon the whole, then, you cannot, in my
opinion, pass the months of May and June more agreeably, or more
usefully, than at The Hague. But, however, if you have any other, plan
that you like better, pursue it: Only let me know what you intend to do,
and I shall most cheerfully agree to it.

The parliament will be dissolved in about ten days, and the writs for the
election of the new one issued out immediately afterward; so that, by the
end of next month, you may depend upon being 'Membre de la chambre
basse'; a title that sounds high in foreign countries, and perhaps higher
than it deserves. I hope you will add a better title to it in your own, I
mean that of a good speaker in parliament: you have, I am sure, all, the
materials necessary for it, if you will but put them together and adorn
them. I spoke in parliament the first month I was in it, and a month
before I was of age; and from the day I was elected, till the day that I
spoke. I am sure I thought nor dreamed of nothing but speaking. The first
time, to say the truth, I spoke very indifferently as to the matter; but
it passed tolerably, in favor of the spirit with which I uttered it, and
the words in which I had dressed it. I improved by degrees, till at last
it did tolerably well. The House, it must be owned, is always extremely
indulgent to the two or three first attempts of a young speaker; and if
they find any degree of common sense in what he says, they make great
allowances for his inexperience, and for the concern which they suppose
him to be under. I experienced that indulgence; for had I not been a
young member, I should certainly have been, as I own I deserved,
reprimanded by the House for some strong and indiscreet things that I
said. Adieu! It is indeed high time.




LETTER CC

LONDON, March 26, 1754

MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter of the 15th from
Manheim, where I find you have been received in the usual gracious
manner; which I hope you return in a GRACEFUL one. As this is a season of
great devotion and solemnity in all Catholic countries, pray inform
yourself of, and constantly attend to, all their silly and pompous church
ceremonies; one ought to know them. I am very glad that you wrote the
letter to Lord------, which, in every different case that can possibly be
supposed, was, I am sure, both a decent and a prudent step. You will find
it very difficult, whenever we meet, to convince me that you could have
any good reasons for not doing it; for I will, for argument's sake,
suppose, what I cannot in reality believe, that he has both said and done
the worst he could, of and by you; What then? How will you help yourself?
Are you in a situation to hurt him? Certainly not; but he certainly is in
a situation to hurt you. Would you show a sullen, pouting, impotent
resentment? I hope not; leave that silly, unavailing sort of resentment
to women, and men like them, who are always guided by humor, never by
reason and prudence. That pettish, pouting conduct is a great deal too
young, and implies too little knowledge of the world, for one who has
seen so much of it as you have. Let this be one invariable rule of your
conduct,--Never to show the least symptom of resentment which you cannot
to a certain degree gratify; but always to smile, where you cannot
strike. There would be no living in courts, nor indeed in the world if
one could not conceal, and even dissemble, the just causes of resentment,
which one meets with every day in active and busy life. Whoever cannot
master his humor enough, 'pour faire bonne mine a mauvais jeu', should
leave the world, and retire to some hermitage, in an unfrequented desert.
By showing an unavailing and sullen resentment, you authorize the
resentment of those who can hurt you and whom you cannot hurt; and give
them that very pretense, which perhaps they wished for, of breaking with,
and injuring you; whereas the contrary behavior would lay them under, the
restraints of decency at least; and either shackle or expose their
malice. Besides, captiousness, sullenness, and pouting are most
exceedingly illiberal and vulgar. 'Un honnete homme ne les connoit
point'.

I am extremely glad to hear that you are soon to have Voltaire at
Manheim: immediately upon his arrival, pray make him a thousand
compliments from me. I admire him most exceedingly; and, whether as an
epic, dramatic, or lyric poet, or prose-writer, I think I justly apply to
him the 'Nil molitur inepte'. I long to read his own correct edition of
'Les Annales de l'Empire', of which the 'Abrege Chronologique de
l'Histoire Universelle', which I have read, is, I suppose, a stolen and
imperfect part; however, imperfect as it is, it has explained to me that
chaos of history, of seven hundred years more clearly than any other book
had done before. You judge very rightly that I love 'le style le r et
fleuri'. I do, and so does everybody who has any parts and taste. It
should, I confess, be more or less 'fleuri', according to the subject;
but at the same time I assert that there is no subject that may not
properly, and which ought not to be adorned, by a certain elegance and
beauty of style. What can be more adorned than Cicero's Philosophical
Works? What more than Plato's? It is their eloquence only that has
preserved and transmitted them down to us through so many centuries; for
the philosophy of them is wretched, and the reasoning part miserable. But
eloquence will always please, and has always pleased. Study it therefore;
make it the object of your thoughts and attention. Use yourself to relate
elegantly; that is a good step toward speaking well in parliament. Take
some political subject, turn it in your thoughts, consider what may be
said both for and against it, then put those arguments into writing, in
the most correct and elegant English you can. For instance, a standing
army, a place bill, etc.; as to the former, consider, on one side, the
dangers arising to a free country from a great standing military force;
on the other side, consider the necessity of a force to repel force with.
Examine whether a standing army, though in itself an evil, may not, from
circumstances, become a necessary evil, and preventive of greater
dangers. As to the latter, consider, how far places may bias and warp the
conduct of men, from the service of their country, into an unwarrantable
complaisance to the court; and, on the other hand, consider whether they
can be supposed to have that effect upon the conduct of people of probity
and property, who are more solidly interested in the permanent good of
their country, than they can be in an uncertain and precarious
employment. Seek for, and answer in your own mind, all the arguments that
can be urged on either side, and write them down in an elegant style.
This will prepare you for debating, and give you an habitual eloquence;
for I would not give a farthing for a mere holiday eloquence, displayed
once or twice in a session, in a set declamation, but I want an
every-day, ready, and habitual eloquence, to adorn extempore and debating
speeches; to make business not only clear but agreeable, and to please
even those whom you cannot inform, and who do not desire to be informed.
All this you may acquire, and make habitual to you, with as little
trouble as it cost you to dance a minuet as well as you do. You now dance
it mechanically and well without thinking of it.

I am surprised that you found but one letter for me at Manheim, for you
ought to have found four or five; there are as many lying for you at your
banker's at Berlin, which I wish you had, because I always endeavored to
put something into them, which, I hope, may be of use to you.

When we meet at Spa, next July, we must have a great many serious
conversations; in which I will pour out all my experience of the world,
and which, I hope, you will trust to, more than to your own young notions
of men and things. You will, in time, discover most of them to have been
erroneous; and, if you follow them long, you will perceive your error too
late; but if you will be led by a guide, who, you are sure, does not mean
to mislead you, you will unite two things, seldom united, in the same
person; the vivacity and spirit of youth, with the caution and experience
of age.

Last Saturday, Sir Thomas Robinson, who had been the King's Minister at
Vienna, was declared Secretary of State for the southern department, Lord
Holderness having taken the northern. Sir Thomas accepted it unwillingly,
and, as I hear, with a promise that he shall not keep it long. Both his
health and spirits are bad, two very disqualifying circumstances for that
employment; yours, I hope, will enable you, some time or other, to go
through with it. In all events, aim at it, and if you fail or fall, let
it at least be said of you, 'Magnis tamen excidit ausis'. Adieu.




LETTER CCI

LONDON, April 5, 1754

MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 20th March, from
Manheim, with the inclosed for Mr. Eliot; it was a very proper one, and I
have forwarded it to him by Mr. Harte, who sets out for Cornwall tomorrow
morning.

I am very glad that you use yourself to translations; and I do not care
of what, provided you study the correctness and elegance of your style.
The "Life of Sextus Quintus" is the best book of the innumerable books
written by Gregorio Leti, whom the Italians, very justly, call 'Leti caca
libro'. But I would rather that you chose some pieces of oratory for your
translations, whether ancient or modern, Latin or French, which would
give you a more oratorical train of thoughts and turn of expression. In
your letter to me you make use of two words, which though true and
correct English, are, however, from long disuse, become inelegant, and
seem now to be stiff, formal, and in some degree scriptural; the first is
the word NAMELY, which you introduce thus, YOU INFORM ME OF A VERY
AGREEABLE PIECE OF NEWS, namely, THAT MY ELECTION IS SECURED. Instead of
NAMELY, I would always use WHICH IS, or THAT IS, that my-election is
secured. The other word is, MINE OWN INCLINATIONS: this is certainly
correct before a subsequent word that begins with a vowel; but it is too
correct, and is now disused as too formal, notwithstanding the hiatus
occasioned by MY OWN. Every language has its peculiarities; they are
established by usage, and whether right or wrong, they must be complied
with. I could instance many very absurd ones in different languages; but
so authorized by the 'jus et norma loquendi', that they must be submitted
to. NAMELY, and TO WIT, are very good words in themselves, and contribute
to clearness more than the relatives which we now substitute in their
room; but, however, they cannot be used, except in a sermon or some very
grave and formal compositions. It is with language as with manners they
are both established by the usage of people of fashion; it must be
imitated, it must be complied with. Singularity is only pardonable in old
age and retirement; I may now be as singular as I please, but you may
not. We will, when we meet, discuss these and many other points, provided
you will give me attention and credit; without both which it is to no
purpose to advise either you or anybody else.