This is a modern-English version of Letters to His Son, Complete: On the Fine Art of Becoming a Man of the World and a Gentleman, originally written by Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of.
It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling,
and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If
you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.
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LETTERS TO HIS SON
By the EARL OF CHESTERFIELD
on the Fine Art of becoming a
MAN OF THE WORLD
and a
GENTLEMAN
CONTENTS
CONTENTS
PG Editor’s Notes:
PG Editor's Notes:
O. S. and N. S.: On consultation with several specialists I have learned that the abbreviations O. S. and N. S. relate to the difference between the old Julian calender used in England and the Gregorian calender which was the standard in Europe. In the mid 18th century it is said that this once amounted to a difference of eleven days. To keep track of the chronology of letters back and forth from England to France or other countries in mainland Europe, Chesterfield inserted in dates the designation O. S. (old style) and N. S. (new style).
O. S. and N. S.: After consulting several specialists, I've learned that the abbreviations O. S. and N. S. refer to the difference between the old Julian calendar used in England and the Gregorian calendar, which was the standard in Europe. In the mid-18th century, this difference was said to be eleven days. To keep track of the dates on letters exchanged between England and France or other countries in mainland Europe, Chesterfield included the designations O. S. (old style) and N. S. (new style).
Chesterfield demonstrates his classical education by frequent words and sometimes entire paragraphs in various languages. In the 1901 text these were in italics; in this etext edition I have substituted single quotation marks around these, as in ‘bon mot’, and not attempted to include the various accent marks of all the languages.
Chesterfield shows off his classical education with frequent words and sometimes whole paragraphs in different languages. In the 1901 text, these were in italics; in this etext edition, I’ve used single quotation marks around them, as in ‘bon mot’, and haven’t tried to include the various accent marks from all the languages.
Only obvious typographical errors have been corrected. The original and occasionally variable spelling is retained throughout. D.W.
Only clear typographical errors have been fixed. The original and sometimes inconsistent spelling is kept throughout. D.W.
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION
The proud Lord Chesterfield would have turned in his grave had he known that he was to go down to posterity as a teacher and preacher of the gospel of not grace, but—“the graces, the graces, the graces.” Natural gifts, social status, open opportunities, and his ambition, all conspired to destine him for high statesmanship. If anything was lacking in his qualifications, he had the pluck and good sense to work hard and persistently until the deficiency was made up. Something remained lacking, and not all his consummate mastery of arts could conceal that conspicuous want,—the want of heart.
The proud Lord Chesterfield would have turned in his grave if he had known that he would be remembered as a teacher and preacher of not grace, but—“the graces, the graces, the graces.” Natural talents, social status, available opportunities, and his ambition all came together to set him up for a high political career. If he lacked anything in his qualifications, he had the courage and common sense to work hard and persistently until he made up for it. However, something was still missing, and not even his complete mastery of various skills could hide that clear absence—his lack of heart.
Teacher and preacher he assuredly is, and long will be, yet no thanks are his due from a posterity of the common people whom he so sublimely despised. His pious mission was not to raise the level of the multitude, but to lift a single individual upon a pedestal so high that his lowly origin should not betray itself. That individual was his, Lord Chesterfield’s, illegitimate son, whose inferior blood should be given the true blue hue by concentrating upon him all the externals of aristocratic education.
He is definitely a teacher and a preacher, and will be for a long time, but he doesn’t deserve any thanks from the future generations of common people he looked down on so profoundly. His noble mission wasn’t to elevate the masses, but to place a single person on such a high pedestal that his humble beginnings would remain hidden. That person was Lord Chesterfield’s illegitimate son, whose lower status was supposed to be masked by giving him all the outward trappings of an aristocratic education.
Never had pupil so devoted, persistent, lavish, and brilliant a guide, philosopher, and friend, for the parental relation was shrewdly merged in these. Never were devotion and uphill struggle against doubts of success more bitterly repaid. Philip Stanhope was born in 1732, when his father was thirty-eight. He absorbed readily enough the solids of the ideal education supplied him, but, by perversity of fate, he cared not a fig for “the graces, the graces, the graces,” which his father so wisely deemed by far the superior qualities to be cultivated by the budding courtier and statesman. A few years of minor services to his country were rendered, though Chesterfield was breaking his substitute for a heart because his son could not or would not play the superfine gentleman—on the paternal model, and then came the news of his death, when only thirty-six. What was a still greater shock to the lordly father, now deaf, gouty, fretful, and at outs with the world, his informant reported that she had been secretly married for several years to Young Hopeful, and was left penniless with two boys. Lord Chesterfield was above all things a practical philosopher, as hard and as exquisitely rounded and polished as a granite column. He accepted the vanishing of his lifelong dream with the admirable stolidity of a fatalist, and in those last days of his radically artificial life he disclosed a welcome tenderness, a touch of the divine, none the less so for being common duty, shown in the few brief letters to his son’s widow and to “our boys.” This, and his enviable gift of being able to view the downs as well as the ups of life in the consoling humorous light, must modify the sterner judgment so easily passed upon his characteristic inculcation, if not practice, of heartlessness.
Never had a student such a devoted, determined, extravagant, and brilliant guide, philosopher, and friend, as the one who also played a parental role. Never was devotion and the struggle against doubts of success more painfully unreturned. Philip Stanhope was born in 1732 when his father was thirty-eight. He absorbed the essential parts of the ideal education provided for him, but, due to fate’s whims, he didn’t care at all for “the graces, the graces, the graces,” which his father wisely thought should be the main qualities cultivated in an aspiring courtier and statesman. He served his country for a few years in minor roles, though Chesterfield was heartbroken because his son couldn't or wouldn't act like the refined gentleman he had modeled, and then he received the news of his death at only thirty-six. An even greater shock for the mighty father, now deaf, suffering from gout, irritable, and at odds with the world, was that the informant revealed she had been secretly married for several years to Young Hopeful and was now left broke with two boys. Lord Chesterfield was above all a practical philosopher, as hard and as beautifully shaped and polished as a granite column. He accepted the loss of his lifelong dream with the admirable stoicism of a fatalist, and in those last days of his completely artificial life, he showed a welcome tenderness, a touch of the divine, not any less for being just a common duty, seen in the few short letters to his son’s widow and to “our boys.” This, along with his enviable ability to view both the lows and highs of life in a comforting, humorous light, should soften the harsher judgment often made about his characteristic teachings, if not his actions, of heartlessness.
The thirteenth-century mother church in the town from which Lord Chesterfield’s title came has a peculiar steeple, graceful in its lines, but it points askew, from whatever quarter it is seen. The writer of these Letters, which he never dreamed would be published, is the best self-portrayed Gentleman in literature. In everything he was naturally a stylist, perfected by assiduous art, yet the graceful steeple is somehow warped out of the beauty of the perpendicular. His ideal Gentleman is the frigid product of a rigid mechanical drill, with the mien of a posture master, the skin-deep graciousness of a French Marechal, the calculating adventurer who cuts unpretentious worthies to toady to society magnates, who affects the supercilious air of a shallow dandy and cherishes the heart of a frog. True, he repeatedly insists on the obligation of truthfulness in all things, and of, honor in dealing with the world. His Gentleman may; nay, he must, sail with the stream, gamble in moderation if it is the fashion, must stoop to wear ridiculous clothes and ornaments if they are the mode, though despising his weakness all to himself, and no true Gentleman could afford to keep out of the little gallantries which so effectively advertised him as a man of spirit sad charm. Those repeated injunctions of honor are to be the rule, subject to these exceptions, which transcend the common proprieties when the subject is the rising young gentleman of the period and his goal social success. If an undercurrent of shady morality is traceable in this Chesterfieldian philosophy it must, of course, be explained away by the less perfect moral standard of his period as compared with that of our day. Whether this holds strictly true of men may be open to discussion, but his lordship’s worldly instructions as to the utility of women as stepping-stones to favor in high places are equally at variance with the principles he so impressively inculcates and with modern conceptions of social honor. The externals of good breeding cannot be over-estimated, if honestly come by, nor is it necessary to examine too deeply into the prime motives of those who urge them upon a generation in whose eyes matter is more important than manner. Superficial refinement is better than none, but the Chesterfield pulpit cannot afford to shirk the duty of proclaiming loud and far that the only courtesy worthy of respect is that ‘politesse de coeur,’ the politeness of the heart, which finds expression in consideration for others as the ruling principle of conduct. This militates to some extent against the assumption of fine airs without the backing of fine behavior, and if it tends to discourage the effort to use others for selfish ends, it nevertheless pays better in the long run.
The 13th-century mother church in the town that gave Lord Chesterfield his title has an odd steeple—elegant in its shapes, but it looks crooked from any angle you view it. The author of these Letters, who never thought they would be published, is the best self-portrayed gentleman in literature. In everything, he was a natural stylist, refined through diligent effort, yet the elegant steeple is somehow distorted from the beauty of being straight. His ideal gentleman is the cold result of a strict, mechanical approach, with the demeanor of a posture instructor, the superficial charm of a French marshall, the calculating adventurer who ignores unassuming individuals to flatter the elite, who feigns the condescending attitude of a shallow dandy while hiding a selfish heart. True, he repeatedly emphasizes the need for honesty in everything and for honor in dealing with people. His gentleman may, or rather must, go with the flow, gamble in moderation if it’s trendy, lower himself to wear ridiculous clothes and accessories if they’re fashionable, all while secretly loathing his own weakness. No true gentleman could afford to miss out on the little flirtations that effectively showcase him as a spirited and charming man. Those repeated calls for honor are meant to be the standard, subject to these exceptions, which go beyond conventional norms when it comes to the ambitious young gentleman of the time and his aim for social success. If there’s a hint of questionable morality in this Chesterfieldian philosophy, it must be understood within the context of his era’s less stringent moral framework compared to ours today. Whether this is entirely true for men might be debatable, but his lordship's worldly advice about using women as stepping stones to gain favor in high places is clearly inconsistent with the principles he emphasizes and with contemporary ideas of social honor. The outward signs of good breeding can't be overvalued if they come by honestly, nor is it necessary to look too closely at the core motivations of those who promote them to a generation that values substance over style. Superficial polish is better than none at all, but the Chesterfield pulpit must not neglect the duty to loudly proclaim that the only courtesy deserving of respect is that ‘politesse de coeur,’ the politeness of the heart, which shows itself in genuine consideration for others as the guiding principle of behavior. This somewhat contradicts the notion of displaying superiority without backing it up with good conduct, and although it may discourage the tendency to use others for personal gain, in the end, it’s a more rewarding approach.
Chesterfield’s frankness in so many confessions of sharp practice almost merits his canonization as a minor saint of society. Dr. Johnson has indeed placed him on a Simeon Stylites pillar, an immortality of penance from which no good member of the writers’ guild is likely to pray his deliverance. He commends the fine art and high science of dissimulation with the gusto of an apostle and the authority of an expert. Dissimulate, but do not simulate, disguise your real sentiments, but do not falsify them. Go through the world with your eyes and ears open and mouth mostly shut. When new or stale gossip is brought to you, never let on that you know it already, nor that it really interests you. The reading of these Letters is better than hearing the average comedy, in which the wit of a single sentence of Chesterfield suffices to carry an act. His man-of-the-world philosophy is as old as the Proverbs of Solomon, but will always be fresh and true, and enjoyable at any age, thanks to his pithy expression, his unfailing common sense, his sparkling wit and charming humor. This latter gift shows in the seeming lapses from his rigid rule requiring absolute elegance of expression at all times, when an unexpected coarseness, in some provincial colloquialism, crops out with picturesque force. The beau ideal of superfineness occasionally enjoys the bliss of harking back to mother English.
Chesterfield’s honesty in so many confessions of sketchy behavior almost earns him the title of a minor saint of society. Dr. Johnson has indeed put him on a Simeon Stylites pillar, a kind of eternal penance from which no good member of the writers’ guild is likely to pray for his escape. He praises the fine art and high science of deception with the enthusiasm of a true believer and the knowledge of an expert. Deceive, but don’t fake it; hide your true feelings, but don’t misrepresent them. Navigate through life with your eyes and ears open and your mouth mostly shut. When new or old gossip comes your way, never let on that you already know it or that it genuinely interests you. Reading these Letters is more enjoyable than watching the average comedy, where the wit of just one sentence from Chesterfield is enough to carry an entire act. His worldly philosophy is as old as the Proverbs of Solomon, but will always feel fresh, true, and enjoyable at any age, thanks to his concise expression, unerring common sense, sparkling wit, and charming humor. This last quality is evident in the occasional breaks from his strict rule of always delivering absolute elegance, when an unexpected coarseness from some local dialect pops up with vivid impact. The ideal of refinement sometimes happily returns to the roots of mother English.
Above all the defects that can be charged against the Letters, there rises
the substantial merit of an honest effort to exalt the gentle in woman and
man—above the merely genteel. “He that is gentil doeth gentil
deeds,” runs the mediaeval saying which marks the distinction between the
genuine and the sham in behavior. A later age had it thus: “Handsome is as
handsome does,” and in this larger sense we have agreed to accept the
motto of William of Wykeham, which declares that “Manners maketh Man."
OLIVER H. G. LEIGH
Above all the flaws that can be pointed out in the Letters, there stands the significant value of a sincere attempt to elevate the kindhearted in both women and men — above just being superficially polite. “A gentleman acts kindly,” goes the medieval saying that differentiates between genuine and fake behavior. A later generation stated it this way: “What you do defines you,” and in this broader sense, we have come to embrace the motto of William of Wykeham, which asserts that “Manners make the man.”
OLIVER H. G. LEIGH
1746-1747
LETTER I
LETTER I
BATH, October 9, O. S. 1746
BATH, October 9, 1746
DEAR BOY: Your distresses in your journey from Heidelberg to Schaffhausen, your lying upon straw, your black bread, and your broken ‘berline,’ are proper seasonings for the greater fatigues and distresses which you must expect in the course of your travels; and, if one had a mind to moralize, one might call them the samples of the accidents, rubs, and difficulties, which every man meets with in his journey through life. In this journey, the understanding is the ‘voiture’ that must carry you through; and in proportion as that is stronger or weaker, more or less in repair, your journey will be better or worse; though at best you will now and then find some bad roads, and some bad inns. Take care, therefore, to keep that necessary ‘voiture’ in perfect good repair; examine, improve, and strengthen it every day: it is in the power, and ought to be the care, of every man to do it; he that neglects it, deserves to feel, and certainly will feel, the fatal effects of that negligence.
DEAR BOY: Your struggles on your journey from Heidelberg to Schaffhausen, your sleeping on straw, your dark bread, and your damaged carriage are just the right challenges to prepare you for the greater fatigue and hardship you can expect while traveling. If someone wanted to reflect on this, they might say these are examples of the accidents, bumps, and difficulties everyone faces on their journey through life. In this journey, your understanding is the vehicle that must carry you forward; the stronger or weaker it is, and the better or worse condition it's in, the easier or harder your journey will be. Even at its best, you will occasionally encounter rough roads and poor inns. So, make sure to keep that essential vehicle in top shape; check, improve, and strengthen it every day. It's up to everyone to do this, and anyone who neglects it deserves to experience, and will certainly experience, the damaging consequences of that neglect.
‘A propos’ of negligence: I must say something to you upon that subject. You know I have often told you, that my affection for you was not a weak, womanish one; and, far from blinding me, it makes me but more quick-sighted as to your faults; those it is not only my right, but my duty to tell you of; and it is your duty and your interest to correct them. In the strict scrutiny which I have made into you, I have (thank God) hitherto not discovered any vice of the heart, or any peculiar weakness of the head: but I have discovered laziness, inattention, and indifference; faults which are only pardonable in old men, who, in the decline of life, when health and spirits fail, have a kind of claim to that sort of tranquillity. But a young man should be ambitious to shine, and excel; alert, active, and indefatigable in the means of doing it; and, like Caesar, ‘Nil actum reputans, si quid superesset agendum.’ You seem to want that ‘vivida vis animi,’ which spurs and excites most young men to please, to shine, to excel. Without the desire and the pains necessary to be considerable, depend upon it, you never can be so; as, without the desire and attention necessary to please, you never can please. ‘Nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia,’ is unquestionably true, with regard to everything except poetry; and I am very sure that any man of common understanding may, by proper culture, care, attention, and labor, make himself whatever he pleases, except a good poet. Your destination is the great and busy world; your immediate object is the affairs, the interests, and the history, the constitutions, the customs, and the manners of the several parts of Europe. In this, any man of common sense may, by common application, be sure to excel. Ancient and modern history are, by attention, easily attainable. Geography and chronology the same, none of them requiring any uncommon share of genius or invention. Speaking and Writing, clearly, correctly, and with ease and grace, are certainly to be acquired, by reading the best authors with care, and by attention to the best living models. These are the qualifications more particularly necessary for you, in your department, which you may be possessed of, if you please; and which, I tell you fairly, I shall be very angry at you, if you are not; because, as you have the means in your hands, it will be your own fault only.
Regarding negligence: I need to say something to you about that. You know I've often told you that my feelings for you aren't weak or sentimental; rather than blinding me, they make me more aware of your flaws. It's not just my right but my duty to point them out to you, and it's in your best interest to address them. In the careful examination I've made of you, I've thankfully not found any faults of character or significant weaknesses in your mind. However, I have noticed laziness, inattention, and indifference—issues that can only be excused in older men, who, as they age and their health and energy decline, have a sort of claim to that kind of calm. But a young man should strive to stand out and excel; he should be alert, active, and tireless in pursuing that goal, and like Caesar, who believed that nothing should be considered done if there was more to be accomplished. You seem to lack that vigorous drive that motivates most young men to impress, shine, and excel. Without the desire and effort needed to be significant, trust me, you never will be; just as without the desire and focus necessary to please, you will never be able to please anyone. "No divinity is absent when there is prudence" is undoubtedly true for everything except poetry; I'm confident that any reasonable person, with proper education, care, attention, and effort, can become whatever they want, except a good poet. Your path is the vast and bustling world; your immediate goals are the affairs, interests, and history, along with the customs and manners of various parts of Europe. In this area, anyone with common sense can excel with consistent effort. Ancient and modern history can be easily accessed with proper attention. Geography and chronology are the same; none require any extraordinary talent or creativity. Speaking and writing clearly, correctly, and gracefully can certainly be developed by carefully reading the best authors and paying attention to the best contemporary models. These are the specific skills you need in your field, which you can certainly acquire if you choose to; and I must tell you honestly, I'll be very disappointed in you if you don’t, because since you have the resources at your disposal, it will be solely your own fault.
If care and application are necessary to the acquiring of those qualifications, without which you can never be considerable, nor make a figure in the world, they are not less necessary with regard to the lesser accomplishments, which are requisite to make you agreeable and pleasing in society. In truth, whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well; and nothing can be done well without attention: I therefore carry the necessity of attention down to the lowest things, even to dancing and dress. Custom has made dancing sometimes necessary for a young man; therefore mind it while you learn it that you may learn to do it well, and not be ridiculous, though in a ridiculous act. Dress is of the same nature; you must dress; therefore attend to it; not in order to rival or to excel a fop in it, but in order to avoid singularity, and consequently ridicule. Take great care always to be dressed like the reasonable people of your own age, in the place where you are; whose dress is never spoken of one way or another, as either too negligent or too much studied.
If you want to gain the skills that are essential for being taken seriously and making an impression in the world, you also need to pay attention to the smaller skills that make you likable and enjoyable to be around. Honestly, anything worth doing at all is worth doing well; nothing can be done well without focus. So, I believe that you should pay attention even to the smallest details, like dancing and your clothing. Dancing is often necessary for a young man; so while you’re learning, make sure to learn it well so you don’t look foolish, even in a silly situation. Dressing is similar; since you have to dress, pay attention to it—not to compete with someone overly flashy, but to avoid standing out for the wrong reasons and getting laughed at. Always make sure to dress like the sensible people your age in your location; their clothing never draws attention for being too sloppy or overly planned.
What is commonly called an absent man, is commonly either a very weak, or a very affected man; but be he which he will, he is, I am sure, a very disagreeable man in company. He fails in all the common offices of civility; he seems not to know those people to-day, whom yesterday he appeared to live in intimacy with. He takes no part in the general conversation; but, on the contrary, breaks into it from time to time, with some start of his own, as if he waked from a dream. This (as I said before) is a sure indication, either of a mind so weak that it is not able to bear above one object at a time; or so affected, that it would be supposed to be wholly engrossed by, and directed to, some very great and important objects. Sir Isaac Newton, Mr. Locke, and (it may be) five or six more, since the creation of the world, may have had a right to absence, from that intense thought which the things they were investigating required. But if a young man, and a man of the world, who has no such avocations to plead, will claim and exercise that right of absence in company, his pretended right should, in my mind, be turned into an involuntary absence, by his perpetual exclusion out of company. However frivolous a company may be, still, while you are among them, do not show them, by your inattention, that you think them so; but rather take their tone, and conform in some degree to their weakness, instead of manifesting your contempt for them. There is nothing that people bear more impatiently, or forgive less, than contempt; and an injury is much sooner forgotten than an insult. If, therefore, you would rather please than offend, rather be well than ill spoken of, rather be loved than hated; remember to have that constant attention about you which flatters every man’s little vanity; and the want of which, by mortifying his pride, never fails to excite his resentment, or at least his ill will. For instance, most people (I might say all people) have their weaknesses; they have their aversions and their likings, to such or such things; so that, if you were to laugh at a man for his aversion to a cat, or cheese (which are common antipathies), or, by inattention and negligence, to let them come in his way, where you could prevent it, he would, in the first case, think himself insulted, and, in the second, slighted, and would remember both. Whereas your care to procure for him what he likes, and to remove from him what he hates, shows him that he is at least an object of your attention; flatters his vanity, and makes him possibly more your friend, than a more important service would have done. With regard to women, attentions still below these are necessary, and, by the custom of the world, in some measure due, according to the laws of good-breeding.
What people often refer to as an absent man is usually either a very weak person or an overly affected one; but regardless, I’m sure he is quite unpleasant to be around. He doesn't carry out the usual polite gestures; he seems to forget the people he was close to yesterday. He doesn’t engage in the general conversation, but instead, occasionally interrupts with random thoughts as if waking from a dream. This, as I mentioned before, clearly indicates a mind so weak that it can only focus on one thing at a time, or so pretentious that it appears to be completely absorbed in some very significant matters. Only a few individuals, like Sir Isaac Newton and Mr. Locke, might have had a legitimate reason to be absent due to their intense intellectual pursuits. But if a young man, who has no such serious business to attend to, chooses to be absent in social settings, I believe that his pretended right to be indifferent should lead to his involuntary exclusion from such gatherings. No matter how trivial the company may seem, while you’re with them, you shouldn’t show your disinterest; instead, try to adopt their tone and fit in a little, rather than express your disdain. There’s nothing people dislike or forgive less than contempt; they tend to forget a wrong more quickly than an insult. So, if you’d rather please than offend, be well regarded rather than poorly spoken of, and be loved instead of hated; remember to maintain constant attention that flatters everyone’s little vanity. The lack of this attention, by hurting someone’s pride, will only stir up resentment or at the very least, dislike. Most people (I’d say everyone) have their quirks; they have preferences and dislikes. So if you laugh at someone for disliking cats or cheese (common dislikes), or if you carelessly allow them to encounter those things when you could prevent it, they would feel insulted or overlooked and remember both instances. On the other hand, if you show consideration by providing what he likes and avoiding what he dislikes, it shows you’re paying attention to him, flatters his vanity, and may even make him more of a friend than some grand gesture would. When it comes to women, even smaller attentions are necessary and, by social standards, are somewhat expected according to the rules of good manners.
My long and frequent letters, which I send you, in great doubt of their success, put me in mind of certain papers, which you have very lately, and I formerly, sent up to kites, along the string, which we called messengers; some of them the wind used to blow away, others were torn by the string, and but few of them got up and stuck to the kite. But I will content myself now, as I did then, if some of my present messengers do but stick to you. Adieu!
My long and frequent letters that I send you, with little confidence they'll reach you, remind me of those papers you recently sent up to kites, and I used to as well, attached to the string, which we called messengers. Some of them would be blown away by the wind, others got torn by the string, and only a few actually made it up and stuck to the kite. But I'm okay with it now, just like I was then, if some of my current messages can just stick with you. Goodbye!
LETTER II
DEAR BOY: You are by this time (I suppose) quite settled and at home at Lausanne; therefore pray let me know how you pass your time there, and what your studies, your amusements, and your acquaintances are. I take it for granted, that you inform yourself daily of the nature of the government and constitution of the Thirteen Cantons; and as I am ignorant of them myself, must apply to you for information. I know the names, but I do not know the nature of some of the most considerable offices there; such as the Avoyers, the Seizeniers, the Banderets, and the Gros Sautier. I desire, therefore, that you will let me know what is the particular business, department, or province of these several magistrates. But as I imagine that there may be some, though, I believe, no essential difference, in the governments of the several Cantons, I would not give you the trouble of informing yourself of each of them; but confine my inquiries, as you may your informations, to the Canton you reside in, that of Berne, which I take to be the principal one. I am not sure whether the Pays de Vaud, where you are, being a conquered country, and taken from the Dukes of Savoy, in the year 1536, has the same share in the government of the Canton, as the German part of it has. Pray inform yourself and me about it.
DEAR BOY: By now, I assume you’re pretty settled in and feeling at home in Lausanne. Please let me know how you spend your time there, what you’re studying, what you do for fun, and who you’ve met. I expect you’re keeping yourself updated on the government and constitution of the Thirteen Cantons, and since I’m not familiar with them either, I’ll rely on you for information. I know the names, but I’m not clear about the roles of some of the important offices, like the Avoyers, Seizeniers, Banderets, and Gros Sautier. So, I’d appreciate it if you could share what each of these magistrates does. However, since I suspect there might be some differences in the governments of the different Cantons but none that are too significant, I won’t trouble you to look into all of them. Instead, please focus your answers on the Canton you live in, which I believe is Berne, the main one. I'm not entirely sure if the Pays de Vaud, where you are, being a conquered territory taken from the Dukes of Savoy in 1536, has the same role in the Canton’s government as the German part does. Please figure that out for both of us.
I have this moment received yours from Berne, of the 2d October, N. S. and also one from Mr. Harte, of the same date, under Mr. Burnaby’s cover. I find by the latter, and indeed I thought so before, that some of your letters and some of Mr. Harte’s have not reached me. Wherefore, for the future, I desire, that both he and you will direct your letters for me, to be left ches Monsieur Wolters, Agent de S. M. Britanique, a Rotterdam, who will take care to send them to me safe. The reason why you have not received letters either from me or from Grevenkop was that we directed them to Lausanne, where we thought you long ago: and we thought it to no purpose to direct to you upon your ROUTE, where it was little likely that our letters would meet with you. But you have, since your arrival at Lausanne, I believe, found letters enough from me; and it may be more than you have read, at least with attention.
I just received your letter from Bern, dated October 2nd, N.S., along with one from Mr. Harte, also dated the same day, sent under Mr. Burnaby’s cover. From the latter, and as I suspected before, it seems that some of your letters and some from Mr. Harte haven’t reached me. Therefore, moving forward, I’d like both of you to send your letters to be left with Monsieur Wolters, Agent de S. M. Britanique, in Rotterdam, who will ensure they get to me safely. The reason you haven’t received letters from either me or Grevenkop is that we sent them to Lausanne, where we thought you would be a long time ago. We figured it wouldn’t make sense to send them to you on your route, where it was unlikely our letters would find you. However, since your arrival in Lausanne, I believe you’ve received plenty of letters from me, and maybe more than you’ve read, at least carefully.
I am glad that you like Switzerland so well; and am impatient to hear how other matters go, after your settlement at Lausanne. God bless you!
I’m really happy to hear that you like Switzerland so much, and I can’t wait to hear how everything else is going after you’ve settled in Lausanne. Take care!
LETTER III
LONDON, December 2, O.S. 1746.
DEAR BOY: I have not, in my present situation,—[His Lordship was, in the year 1746, appointed one of his Majesty’s secretaries of state.]—time to write to you, either so much or so often as I used, while I was in a place of much more leisure and profit; but my affection for you must not be judged of by the number of my letters; and, though the one lessens, the other, I assure you, does not.
DEAR BOY: I don’t have much time to write to you these days—[His Lordship was appointed one of his Majesty’s secretaries of state in 1746.]—so I can’t write as often or as much as I used to when I had more free time and opportunity. However, you shouldn’t judge my feelings for you by how many letters I send; even though the number is less, I promise my affection hasn’t changed at all.
I have just now received your letter of the 25th past, N. S., and, by the former post, one from Mr. Harte; with both which I am very well pleased: with Mr. Harte’s, for the good account which he gives me of you; with yours, for the good account which you gave me of what I desired to be informed of. Pray continue to give me further information of the form of government of the country you are now in; which I hope you will know most minutely before you leave it. The inequality of the town of Lausanne seems to be very convenient in this cold weather; because going up hill and down will keep you warm. You say there is a good deal of good company; pray, are you got into it? Have you made acquaintances, and with whom? Let me know some of their names. Do you learn German yet, to read, write, and speak it?
I just received your letter from the 25th of last month, and, by the previous mail, one from Mr. Harte; I'm very pleased with both. I'm happy with Mr. Harte's letter because he shares a positive update about you, and I'm glad to hear from you about the information I requested. Please keep me updated on the form of government in the country you're in; I hope you'll know all the details before you leave. The hills in Lausanne seem to be quite convenient in this cold weather, as going uphill and downhill will keep you warm. You mentioned that there's a good amount of nice people around; have you met any of them? Who have you gotten to know? Let me know some of their names. Are you learning German yet, to read, write, and speak it?
Yesterday, I saw a letter from Monsieur Bochat to a friend of mine; which gave me the greatest pleasure that I have felt this great while; because it gives so very good an account of you. Among other things which Monsieur Bochat says to your advantage, he mentions the tender uneasiness and concern that you showed during my illness, for which (though I will say that you owe it to me) I am obliged to you: sentiments of gratitude not being universal, nor even common. As your affection for me can only proceed from your experience and conviction of my fondness for you (for to talk of natural affection is talking nonsense), the only return I desire is, what it is chiefly your interest to make me; I mean your invariable practice of virtue, and your indefatigable pursuit of knowledge. Adieu! and be persuaded that I shall love you extremely, while you deserve it; but not one moment longer.
Yesterday, I came across a letter from Monsieur Bochat addressed to a friend of mine, which brought me immense pleasure, the most I've felt in a while, because it speaks so highly of you. Among other compliments, Monsieur Bochat mentions the concern and care you showed during my illness, for which I’m grateful, even though I’d say you owe it to me. Gratitude isn’t something everyone feels, or even commonly shares. Your affection for me must stem from your understanding and belief in my fondness for you (since talking about natural affection is nonsense). The only thing I hope for in return, which is also in your best interest, is your commitment to virtue and your tireless pursuit of knowledge. Farewell! And know that I will love you dearly as long as you deserve it; but not a moment longer.
LETTER IV
LONDON, December 9, O. S. 1746.
DEAR BOY: Though I have very little time, and though I write by this post to Mr. Harte, yet I cannot send a packet to Lausanne without a word or two to yourself. I thank you for your letter of congratulation which you wrote me, notwithstanding the pain it gave you. The accident that caused the pain was, I presume, owing to that degree of giddiness, of which I have sometimes taken the liberty to speak to you. The post I am now in, though the object of most people’s views and desires, was in some degree inflicted upon me; and a certain concurrence of circumstances obliged me to engage in it. But I feel that to go through with it requires more strength of body and mind than I have: were you three or four years older; you should share in my trouble, and I would have taken you into my office; but I hope you will employ these three or four years so well as to make yourself capable of being of use to me, if I should continue in it so long. The reading, writing, and speaking the modern languages correctly; the knowledge of the laws of nations, and the particular constitution of the empire; of history, geography, and chronology, are absolutely necessary to this business, for which I have always intended you. With these qualifications you may very possibly be my successor, though not my immediate one.
DEAR BOY: Even though I have very little time and I'm writing to Mr. Harte in this post, I can’t send a package to Lausanne without saying a word or two to you. Thank you for your letter of congratulations, which you wrote to me, despite the pain it caused you. I assume the accident that caused the pain was due to that dizziness I've mentioned to you before. The position I’m currently in, while it’s what most people aim for, was somewhat forced upon me, and certain circumstances compelled me to take it on. However, I realize that handling it requires more strength of body and mind than I possess. If you were three or four years older, you would share this burden with me, and I would have brought you into my office. But I hope you’ll make good use of these three or four years to equip yourself to assist me if I’m still in this position by then. Being able to read, write, and speak modern languages correctly, knowing international laws and the specific constitution of the empire, plus understanding history, geography, and chronology, are all essential for this work I have always planned for you. With these skills, you might very well be my successor, though not my immediate one.
I hope you employ your whole time, which few people do; and that you put every moment to, profit of some kind or other. I call company, walking, riding, etc., employing one’s time, and, upon proper occasions, very usefully; but what I cannot forgive in anybody is sauntering, and doing nothing at all, with a thing so precious as time, and so irrecoverable when lost.
I hope you make the most of your time, which not many people do; and that you use every moment for some kind of benefit. I consider spending time with others, walking, riding, etc., as using your time well, and it can be very beneficial at the right times; but what I can’t stand is someone just wandering around and doing absolutely nothing with something as valuable as time, especially when it’s so impossible to get back once it’s gone.
Are you acquainted with any ladies at Lausanne? and do you behave yourself with politeness enough to make them desire your company?
Do you know any women in Lausanne? And do you act politely enough to make them want to be around you?
I must finish: God bless you!
I have to wrap this up: God bless you!
LETTER V
LONDON, February 24, O. S. 1747
SIR: In order that we may, reciprocally, keep up our French, which, for want of practice, we might forget; you will permit me to have the honor of assuring you of my respects in that language: and be so good to answer me in the same. Not that I am apprehensive of your forgetting to speak French: since it is probable that two-thirds of our daily prattle is in that language; and because, if you leave off writing French, you may perhaps neglect that grammatical purity, and accurate orthography, which, in other languages, you excel in; and really, even in French, it is better to write well than ill. However, as this is a language very proper for sprightly, gay subjects, I shall conform to that, and reserve those which are serious for English. I shall not therefore mention to you, at present, your Greek or Latin, your study of the Law of Nature, or the Law of Nations, the Rights of People, or of Individuals; but rather discuss the subject of your Amusements and Pleasures; for, to say the truth, one must have some. May I be permitted to inquire of what nature yours are? Do they consist in little commercial play at cards in good company? are they little agreeable suppers, at which cheerfulness and decency are united? or, do you pay court to some fair one, who requires such attentions as may be of use in contributing to polish you? Make me your confidant upon this subject; you shall not find a severe censor: on the contrary, I wish to obtain the employment of minister to your pleasures: I will point them out, and even contribute to them.
SIR: To keep our French skills sharp, which we might forget without practice, I’d like to honor you by communicating in that language. Please respond in the same way. I’m not worried about you forgetting to speak French, as it’s likely that two-thirds of our daily conversation is in that language. However, if you stop writing in French, you might neglect the grammatical accuracy and correct spelling in other languages where you excel; and honestly, it’s better to write well than poorly, even in French. Since French is great for light, cheerful topics, I’ll stick to that for now and save serious matters for English. So I won’t bring up your Greek or Latin studies, the Law of Nature, the Law of Nations, or the Rights of People and Individuals, but instead, I’ll talk about your entertainment and pleasures because, to be honest, one must have some. May I ask what kind of pleasures you enjoy? Do they include friendly card games in good company? Enjoyable dinners that bring cheer and good company? Or are you courting someone who requires special attention to help refine you? Share your thoughts with me on this; I promise I won’t judge harshly. On the contrary, I’d like to help you enjoy your pleasures; I’ll suggest some and even assist you in pursuing them.
Many young people adopt pleasures, for which they have not the least taste, only because they are called by that name. They often mistake so totally, as to imagine that debauchery is pleasure. You must allow that drunkenness, which is equally destructive to body and mind, is a fine pleasure. Gaming, that draws you into a thousand scrapes, leaves you penniless, and gives you the air and manners of an outrageous madman, is another most exquisite pleasure; is it not? As to running after women, the consequences of that vice are only the loss of one’s nose, the total destruction of health, and, not unfrequently, the being run through the body.
Many young people chase after pleasures they don't actually enjoy, just because they have that label. They often completely misunderstand things, thinking that wild living is fun. You have to admit that drunkenness, which harms both body and mind, is seen as a great pleasure. Gambling, which lands you in all sorts of trouble, leaves you broke and makes you act like a total lunatic, is another so-called exquisite pleasure; isn't it? As for chasing after women, the results of that vice can be losing your nose, ruining your health, and sometimes even getting seriously hurt.
These, you see, are all trifles; yet this is the catalogue of pleasures of most of those young people, who never reflecting themselves, adopt, indiscriminately, what others choose to call by the seducing name of pleasure. I am thoroughly persuaded you will not fall into such errors; and that, in the choice of your amusements, you will be directed by reason, and a discerning taste. The true pleasures of a gentleman are those of the table, but within the bound of moderation; good company, that is to say, people of merit; moderate play, which amuses, without any interested views; and sprightly gallant conversations with women of fashion and sense.
These, you see, are all minor things; yet this is the list of pleasures for most young people, who, without much thought, mindlessly adopt what others refer to as pleasure. I truly believe you won’t make such mistakes; and that, in choosing your pastimes, you will be guided by reason and good taste. The real pleasures of a gentleman are those at the dining table, but within limits; great company, meaning people of value; casual games that provide enjoyment without ulterior motives; and lively, charming conversations with fashionable and sensible women.
These are the real pleasures of a gentleman; which occasion neither sickness, shame, nor repentance. Whatever exceeds them, becomes low vice, brutal passion, debauchery, and insanity of, mind; all of which, far from giving satisfaction, bring on dishonor and disgrace. Adieu.
These are the true pleasures of a gentleman, which don't lead to illness, embarrassment, or regret. Anything beyond these becomes petty vice, reckless passion, indulgence, and madness; all of which, instead of providing satisfaction, result in dishonor and disgrace. Goodbye.
LETTER VI
LONDON, March 6, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: Whatever you do, will always affect me, very sensibly, one way or another; and I am now most agreeably affected, by two letters, which I have lately seen from Lausanne, upon your subject; the one from Madame St. Germain, the other from Monsieur Pampigny: they both give so good an account of you, that I thought myself obliged, in justice both to them and, to you, to let you know it. Those who deserve a good character, ought to have the satisfaction of knowing that they have it, both as a reward and as an encouragement. They write, that you are not only ‘decrotte,’ but tolerably well-bred; and that the English crust of awkward bashfulness, shyness, and roughness (of which, by the bye, you had your share) is pretty well rubbed off. I am most heartily glad of it; for, as I have often told you, those lesser talents, of an engaging, insinuating manner, an easy good-breeding, a genteel behavior and address, are of infinitely more advantage than they are generally thought to be, especially here in England. Virtue and learning, like gold, have their intrinsic value but if they are not polished, they certainly lose a great deal of their luster; and even polished brass will pass upon more people than rough gold. What a number of sins does the cheerful, easy good-breeding of the French frequently cover? Many of them want common sense, many more common learning; but in general, they make up so much by their manner, for those defects, that frequently they pass undiscovered: I have often said, and do think, that a Frenchman, who, with a fund of virtue, learning and good sense, has the manners and good-breeding of his country, is the perfection of human nature. This perfection you may, if you please, and I hope you will, arrive at. You know what virtue is: you may have it if you will; it is in every man’s power; and miserable is the man who has it not. Good sense God has given you. Learning you already possess enough of, to have, in a reasonable time, all that a man need have. With this, you are thrown out early into the world, where it will be your own fault if you do not acquire all, the other accomplishments necessary to complete and adorn your character. You will do well to make your compliments to Madame St. Germain and Monsieur Pampigny; and tell them, how sensible you are of their partiality to you, in the advantageous testimonies which, you are informed, they have given of you here.
DEAR BOY: Whatever you do will always have a significant impact on me, in one way or another; and I am currently very pleased by two letters I recently received from Lausanne about you. One is from Madame St. Germain, and the other is from Monsieur Pampigny. They both describe you so positively that I felt it was only fair, both to them and to you, to let you know. Those who deserve a good reputation should have the satisfaction of knowing they have it, both as a reward and as encouragement. They mention that you are not only "decrotte," but also fairly well-mannered; and that the typical English awkwardness, shyness, and roughness (of which, by the way, you had your share) has mostly worn off. I’m truly glad to hear this; as I have often said, those minor skills, like having a charming, approachable manner, good etiquette, and a stylish presence, are far more beneficial than they're usually considered to be, especially here in England. Virtue and knowledge, like gold, have their inherent value, but if they are not refined, they certainly lose a lot of their shine; even polished brass can impress more people than rough gold. How many flaws does the cheerful and easygoing demeanor of the French often mask? Many lack common sense, and many lack basic knowledge; but in general, they compensate for those shortcomings so well with their manner that they often go unnoticed. I have often said, and I truly believe, that a Frenchman with a solid foundation of virtue, knowledge, and common sense, along with the manners and poise typical of his country, represents the pinnacle of human nature. This ideal is something you can, if you choose, achieve, and I hope you will. You know what virtue is: you can possess it if you want; it’s within every man’s reach, and it's a shame for someone not to have it. Good sense is a gift from God that you have. You already have enough knowledge to, in a reasonable amount of time, gain all that a person needs. With this, you are being launched early into the world, where it will be your responsibility to acquire all the other skills necessary to complete and enhance your character. You should definitely express your gratitude to Madame St. Germain and Monsieur Pampigny and let them know how grateful you are for their favorable opinions of you that you’ve heard about.
Adieu. Continue to deserve such testimonies; and then you will not only deserve, but enjoy my truest affection.
Goodbye. Keep earning those kind words, and then you won't just deserve my love—you'll truly enjoy it.
LETTER VII
LONDON, March 27, O. S. 1747.
DEAR BOY: Pleasure is the rock which most young people split upon: they launch out with crowded sails in quest of it, but without a compass to direct their course, or reason sufficient to steer the vessel; for want of which, pain and shame, instead of pleasure, are the returns of their voyage. Do not think that I mean to snarl at pleasure, like a Stoic, or to preach against it, like a parson; no, I mean to point it out, and recommend it to you, like an Epicurean: I wish you a great deal; and my only view is to hinder you from mistaking it.
DEAR BOY: Pleasure is the rock that most young people crash against. They set out with full sails in search of it but lack a compass to navigate their path or the reason to guide their journey. Because of this, pain and shame, rather than pleasure, are the outcomes of their voyage. Don't think I’m criticizing pleasure like a Stoic or preaching against it like a minister; no, I'm pointing it out and recommending it to you like an Epicurean: I genuinely hope you find a lot of it, and my only goal is to help you avoid misunderstanding it.
The character which most young men first aim at, is that of a man of pleasure; but they generally take it upon trust; and instead of consulting their own taste and inclinations, they blindly adopt whatever those with whom they chiefly converse, are pleased to call by the name of pleasure; and a man of pleasure in the vulgar acceptation of that phrase, means only, a beastly drunkard, an abandoned whoremaster, and a profligate swearer and curser. As it may be of use to you. I am not unwilling, though at the same time ashamed to own, that the vices of my youth proceeded much more from my silly resolution of being, what I heard called a man of pleasure, than from my own inclinations. I always naturally hated drinking; and yet I have often drunk; with disgust at the time, attended by great sickness the next day, only because I then considered drinking as a necessary qualification for a fine gentleman, and a man of pleasure.
The character most young men first aspire to is that of a man of pleasure; but they usually take this on trust. Instead of following their own tastes and interests, they blindly accept what those they mostly talk to consider pleasure. In the common understanding, a man of pleasure simply means a drunken lout, a reckless womanizer, and a foul-mouthed swearer. It might be helpful to you, so I’ll admit, though I'm somewhat embarrassed to say it, that the vices of my youth came more from my foolish desire to be what I heard called a man of pleasure than from my own inclinations. I’ve always naturally disliked drinking, yet I’ve often drank, feeling disgusted at the time and suffering greatly the next day, just because I believed that drinking was a necessary trait for a fine gentleman and a man of pleasure.
The same as to gaming. I did not want money, and consequently had no occasion to play for it; but I thought play another necessary ingredient in the composition of a man of pleasure, and accordingly I plunged into it without desire, at first; sacrificed a thousand real pleasures to it; and made myself solidly uneasy by it, for thirty the best years of my life.
The same goes for gaming. I didn't care about money, so I had no reason to play for it; but I thought playing was another essential part of being a person who enjoys life, so I jumped into it without really wanting to at first; I gave up a thousand genuine pleasures for it; and I made myself seriously uneasy because of it for the best thirty years of my life.
I was even absurd enough, for a little while, to swear, by way of adorning and completing the shining character which I affected; but this folly I soon laid aside, upon finding berth the guilt and the indecency of it.
I was even foolish enough, for a little while, to swear, trying to enhance and complete the impressive persona I created; but I quickly abandoned this nonsense when I realized how guilty and inappropriate it was.
Thus seduced by fashion, and blindly adopting nominal pleasures, I lost real ones; and my fortune impaired, and my constitution shattered, are, I must confess, the just punishment of my errors.
So, caught up in trends and mindlessly chasing superficial pleasures, I gave up the real ones; now my wealth is diminished, and my health is ruined, and I have to admit, these are the rightful consequences of my mistakes.
Take warning then by them: choose your pleasures for yourself, and do not let them be imposed upon you. Follow nature and not fashion: weigh the present enjoyment of your pleasures against the necessary consequences of them, and then let your own common sense determine your choice.
Take warning from them: choose your pleasures for yourself, and don’t let others dictate them. Follow your instincts, not trends: consider the immediate enjoyment of your pleasures against the necessary consequences, and then let your own common sense guide your decision.
Were I to begin the world again, with the experience which I now have of it, I would lead a life of real, not of imaginary pleasures. I would enjoy the pleasures of the table, and of wine; but stop short of the pains inseparably annexed to an excess of either. I would not, at twenty years, be a preaching missionary of abstemiousness and sobriety; and I should let other people do as they would, without formally and sententiously rebuking them for it; but I would be most firmly resolved not to destroy my own faculties and constitution; in complaisance to those who have no regard to their own. I would play to give me pleasure, but not to give me pain; that is, I would play for trifles, in mixed companies, to amuse myself, and conform to custom; but I would take care not to venture for sums; which, if I won, I should not be the better for; but, if I lost, should be under a difficulty to pay: and when paid, would oblige me to retrench in several other articles. Not to mention the quarrels which deep play commonly occasions.
If I could start over in life with the knowledge I have now, I would choose a life of genuine, not just imaginary pleasures. I would savor good food and wine, but I'd be careful to avoid the negative consequences that come with overindulgence. At twenty, I wouldn't be a preachy advocate for self-denial and moderation; instead, I'd let others live their lives as they choose without lecturing them about it. However, I would be fully committed to not harming my own well-being just to please those who don't care about theirs. I would play games for enjoyment, not to cause myself stress; in other words, I would join in lighthearted play with friends, just to have fun and fit in, but I'd make sure not to bet significant amounts. Winning wouldn't improve my situation, but losing could put me in a tough spot financially, forcing me to cut back on other things. Not to mention the arguments that often come from high-stakes games.
I would pass some of my time in reading, and the rest in the company of people of sense and learning, and chiefly those above me; and I would frequent the mixed companies of men and women of fashion, which, though often frivolous, yet they unbend and refresh the mind, not uselessly, because they certainly polish and soften the manners.
I would spend some of my time reading and the rest with people who are smart and knowledgeable, especially those who are more experienced than me. I would also hang out in mixed gatherings of fashionable men and women, which, although often superficial, help to relax and refresh the mind—not without purpose, since they definitely refine and soften one's manners.
These would be my pleasures and amusements, if I were to live the last thirty years over again; they are rational ones; and, moreover, I will tell you, they are really the fashionable ones; for the others are not, in truth, the pleasures of what I call people of fashion, but of those who only call themselves so. Does good company care to have a man reeling drunk among them? Or to see another tearing his hair, and blaspheming, for having lost, at play, more than he is able to pay? Or a whoremaster with half a nose, and crippled by coarse and infamous debauchery? No; those who practice, and much more those who brag of them, make no part of good company; and are most unwillingly, if ever, admitted into it. A real man of fashion and pleasures observes decency: at least neither borrows nor affects vices: and if he unfortunately has any, he gratifies them with choice, delicacy, and secrecy.
If I could relive the last thirty years, these would be my joys and activities; they are sensible ones and, I should add, they are actually the trendy ones. The other options aren’t, really, the pleasures of what I consider true people of fashion, but rather those of individuals who simply think of themselves that way. Does anyone in good company want a person stumbling around drunk amongst them? Or to watch someone pulling out their hair and cursing because they've lost more at gambling than they can afford? Or a guy who’s lived such a wild life that he's half-functional? No, those who indulge in those behaviors, and especially those who boast about them, aren’t part of good company and are rarely, if ever, welcomed into it. A genuine man of style and enjoyment maintains decency; at the very least, he doesn’t borrow or flaunt vices. And if he unfortunately has any, he indulges them with discretion, refinement, and privacy.
I have not mentioned the pleasures of the mind (which are the solid and permanent ones); because they do not come under the head of what people commonly call pleasures; which they seem to confine to the senses. The pleasure of virtue, of charity, and of learning is true and lasting pleasure; with which I hope you will be well and long acquainted. Adieu!
I haven’t talked about the joys of the mind (which are the real and lasting ones) because they don't fit into what people usually call pleasures; they seem to limit that to sensory experiences. The joy of doing the right thing, of being charitable, and of gaining knowledge is genuine and enduring pleasure, and I hope you will become very familiar with it for a long time. Goodbye!
LETTER VIII
LONDON, April 3, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: If I am rightly informed, I am now writing to a fine gentleman, in a scarlet coat laced with gold, a brocade waistcoat, and all other suitable ornaments. The natural partiality of every author for his own works makes me very glad to hear that Mr. Harte has thought this last edition of mine worth so fine a binding; and, as he has bound it in red, and gilt it upon the back, I hope he will take care that it shall be LETTERED too. A showish binding attracts the eyes, and engages the attention of everybody; but with this difference, that women, and men who are like women, mind the binding more than the book; whereas men of sense and learning immediately examine the inside; and if they find that it does not answer the finery on the outside, they throw it by with the greater indignation and contempt. I hope that, when this edition of my works shall be opened and read, the best judges will find connection, consistency, solidity, and spirit in it. Mr. Harte may ‘recensere’ and ‘emendare,’ as much as he pleases; but it will be to little purpose, if you do not cooperate with him. The work will be imperfect.
DEAR BOY: If I'm informed correctly, I'm now writing to a fine gentleman in a red coat with gold trim, a fancy waistcoat, and all the right accessories. The natural bias every author has for their own work makes me happy to hear that Mr. Harte thinks this latest edition of mine deserves such a nice binding; and since he's bound it in red and gilded the spine, I hope he will also make sure it's LETTERED. A flashy binding catches the eye and grabs everybody’s attention, but there's a difference: women, and men who are like women, care more about the binding than the book; while sensible and learned men immediately check the inside, and if they find it doesn’t match the flashiness outside, they discard it with greater anger and disdain. I hope that when this edition of my work is opened and read, the best judges will find it connected, consistent, solid, and spirited. Mr. Harte can review and revise as much as he likes, but it won’t matter much if you don’t work with him. The work will be incomplete.
I thank you for your last information of our success in the Mediterranean, and you say very rightly that a secretary of state ought to be well informed. I hope, therefore, you will take care that I shall. You are near the busy scene in Italy; and I doubt not but that, by frequently looking at the map, you have all that theatre of the war very perfect in your mind.
I appreciate your latest update about our success in the Mediterranean, and you’re absolutely right that a secretary of state should stay well-informed. I hope you'll ensure that I do. You’re close to the action in Italy, and I’m sure that by regularly checking the map, you have a clear picture of the whole theater of war in your mind.
I like your account of the salt works; which shows that you gave some attention while you were seeing them. But notwithstanding that, by your account, the Swiss salt is (I dare say) very good, yet I am apt to suspect that it falls a little short of the true Attic salt in which there was a peculiar quickness and delicacy. That same Attic salt seasoned almost all Greece, except Boeotia, and a great deal of it was exported afterward to Rome, where it was counterfeited by a composition called Urbanity, which in some time was brought to very near the perfection of the original Attic salt. The more you are powdered with these two kinds of salt, the better you will keep, and the more you will be relished.
I like your description of the salt works; it shows you were paying attention while you were there. But even though you say the Swiss salt is quite good, I can't help but feel it doesn’t quite match the true Attic salt, which had a unique sharpness and finesse. That same Attic salt was used throughout most of Greece, except Boeotia, and a lot of it was later exported to Rome, where it was imitated by a blend called Urbanity, which eventually got pretty close to the original Attic salt. The more you are sprinkled with these two types of salt, the better you will endure, and the more people will appreciate you.
Adieu! My compliments to Mr. Harte and Mr. Eliot.
Goodbye! Please send my regards to Mr. Harte and Mr. Eliot.
LETTER IX
LONDON, April 14, O. S. 1747.
DEAR BOY: If you feel half the pleasure from the consciousness of doing well, that I do from the informations I have lately received in your favor from Mr. Harte, I shall have little occasion to exhort or admonish you any more to do what your own satisfaction and self love will sufficiently prompt you to. Mr. Harte tells me that you attend, that you apply to your studies; and that beginning to understand, you begin to taste them. This pleasure will increase, and keep pace with your attention; so that the balance will be greatly to your advantage. You may remember, that I have always earnestly recommended to you, to do what you are about, be that what it will; and to do nothing else at the same time. Do not imagine that I mean by this, that you should attend to and plod at your book all day long; far from it; I mean that you should have your pleasures too; and that you should attend to them for the time; as much as to your studies; and, if you do not attend equally to both, you will neither have improvement nor satisfaction from either. A man is fit for neither business nor pleasure, who either cannot, or does not, command and direct his attention to the present object, and, in some degree, banish for that time all other objects from his thoughts. If at a ball, a supper, or a party of pleasure, a man were to be solving, in his own mind, a problem in Euclid, he would be a very bad companion, and make a very poor figure in that company; or if, in studying a problem in his closet, he were to think of a minuet, I am apt to believe that he would make a very poor mathematician. There is time enough for everything, in the course of the day, if you do but one thing at once; but there is not time enough in the year, if you will do two things at a time. The Pensionary de Witt, who was torn to pieces in the year 1672, did the whole business of the Republic, and yet had time left to go to assemblies in the evening, and sup in company. Being asked how he could possibly find time to go through so much business, and yet amuse himself in the evenings as he did, he answered, there was nothing so easy; for that it was only doing one thing at a time, and never putting off anything till to-morrow that could be done to-day. This steady and undissipated attention to one object is a sure mark of a superior genius; as hurry, bustle, and agitation are the never-failing symptoms of a weak and frivolous mind. When you read Horace, attend to the justness of his thoughts, the happiness of his diction, and the beauty of his poetry; and do not think of Puffendorf de Homine el Cive; and, when you are reading Puffendorf, do not think of Madame de St. Germain; nor of Puffendorf, when you are talking to Madame de St. Germain.
DEAR BOY: If you feel even half the satisfaction from knowing you’re doing well that I feel from the updates I've recently received about you from Mr. Harte, then I won't need to urge you to do what will naturally bring you pleasure and self-respect. Mr. Harte tells me that you are attentive and engaged in your studies, and that as you begin to understand them, you’re also starting to enjoy them. This enjoyment will grow and keep pace with your focus, so that the benefits will be greatly in your favor. Remember, I've always strongly advised you to fully engage in whatever you’re doing, whatever that may be; do not try to multitask. However, this doesn't mean you should study all day without breaks; quite the opposite! You should enjoy your leisure as well, dedicating time to both your studies and your pleasures. If you don't give equal attention to both, you won't find improvement or satisfaction in either. A person is not suited for work or enjoyment if they can’t focus on the task at hand and manage to keep other distractions out of their mind for that time. If someone at a party is off solving a math problem in their head, they would be a terrible companion and wouldn’t fit in well; or if someone studying a problem at home kept thinking about a dance, I believe they wouldn’t be a very effective mathematician. There’s enough time in a day for everything if you focus on one thing at a time; but a year won’t be enough time if you try to juggle two things at once. The Pensionary de Witt, who was killed in the year 1672, managed the entire business of the Republic while still having time to attend social gatherings in the evenings. When asked how he could possibly handle so much work and still enjoy himself, he said it was simple: just do one thing at a time and never postpone a task that could be done today. This focused attention on a single task is a clear sign of a superior mind; in contrast, rush, chaos, and agitation are signs of a weak and trivial mind. When you read Horace, pay attention to the clarity of his thoughts, the elegance of his language, and the beauty of his poetry; don’t think about Puffendorf’s work on Man and Citizen. And when you're reading Puffendorf, don’t think about Madame de St. Germain; nor should you think about Puffendorf when you're talking to Madame de St. Germain.
Mr. Harte informs me, that he has reimbursed you of part of your losses in Germany; and I consent to his reimbursing you of the whole, now that I know you deserve it. I shall grudge you nothing, nor shall you want anything that you desire, provided you deserve it; so that you see, it is in your own power to have whatever you please.
Mr. Harte has let me know that he has paid you back some of your losses in Germany, and I agree to him refunding you the full amount now that I can see you deserve it. I won’t hold back anything from you, and you won’t lack for anything you want, as long as you deserve it; so you can see, it's entirely up to you to have whatever you want.
There is a little book which you read here with Monsieur Codere entitled, ‘Maniere de bien penser dans les Ouvrages d’Esprit,’ written by Pyre Bonhours. I wish you would read this book again at your leisure hours, for it will not only divert you, but likewise form your taste, and give you a just manner of thinking. Adieu!
There’s a little book you read here with Monsieur Codere called ‘How to Think Well in Creative Works,’ written by Pyre Bonhours. I hope you’ll read this book again in your free time because it will not only entertain you but also shape your taste and give you a better way of thinking. Goodbye!
LETTER X
LONDON, June 30, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: I was extremely pleased with the account which you gave me in your last, of the civilities that you received in your Swiss progress; and I have written, by this post, to Mr. Burnaby, and to the ‘Avoyer,’ to thank them for their parts. If the attention you met with pleased you, as I dare say it did, you will, I hope, draw this general conclusion from it, that attention and civility please all those to whom they are paid; and that you will please others in proportion as you are attentive and civil to them.
DEAR BOY: I was really happy with the account you gave me in your last message about the kindness you received during your trip in Switzerland. I have written, with this post, to Mr. Burnaby and the 'Avoyer' to thank them for their part. If the attention you received pleased you, as I’m sure it did, I hope you’ll come to the conclusion that kindness and civility make everyone feel good, and that you'll make others feel good in return by being attentive and polite to them.
Bishop Burnet has wrote his travels through Switzerland; and Mr. Stanyan, from a long residence there, has written the best account, yet extant, of the Thirteen Cantons; but those books will be read no more, I presume, after you shall have published your account of that country. I hope you will favor me with one of the first copies. To be serious; though I do not desire that you should immediately turn author, and oblige the world with your travels; yet, wherever you go, I would have you as curious and inquisitive as if you did intend to write them. I do not mean that you should give yourself so much trouble, to know the number of houses, inhabitants, signposts, and tombstones, of every town that you go through; but that you should inform yourself, as well as your stay will permit you, whether the town is free, or to whom it belongs, or in what manner: whether it has any peculiar privileges or customs; what trade or manufactures; and such other particulars as people of sense desire to know. And there would be no manner of harm if you were to take memorandums of such things in a paper book to help your memory. The only way of knowing all these things is to keep the best company, who can best inform you of them. I am just now called away; so good night.
Bishop Burnet has written about his travels through Switzerland, and Mr. Stanyan, who has lived there for a long time, has provided the best account available of the Thirteen Cantons. However, I suspect those books won’t be read much once you publish your own account of that country. I hope you will send me one of the first copies. To be serious, while I don’t want you to rush into being an author or feel pressured to share your travels with the world, I do hope you remain curious and inquisitive, as if you were planning to write about them. I don’t mean for you to exhaust yourself counting the number of houses, residents, signposts, and tombstones in every town you visit. Rather, I want you to learn, as much as your stay allows, whether the town is free, who owns it, or how it’s governed; whether it has any unique privileges or customs; what trades or industries it has; and other details that thoughtful people find important. It wouldn’t hurt to jot down notes about these things in a notebook to aid your memory. The best way to learn all of this is to spend time with knowledgeable people who can share their insights. I have to go now, so good night.
LETTER XI
LONDON, July 20, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: In your Mamma’s letter, which goes here inclosed, you will find one from my sister, to thank you for the Arquebusade water which you sent her; and which she takes very kindly. She would not show me her letter to you; but told me that it contained good wishes and good advice; and, as I know she will show your letter in answer to hers, I send you here inclosed the draught of the letter which I would have you write to her. I hope you will not be offended at my offering you my assistance upon this occasion; because, I presume, that as yet, you are not much used to write to ladies. ‘A propos’ of letter-writing, the best models that you can form yourself upon are, Cicero, Cardinal d’Ossat, Madame Sevigne, and Comte Bussy Rebutin. Cicero’s Epistles to Atticus, and to his familiar friends, are the best examples that you can imitate, in the friendly and the familiar style. The simplicity and the clearness of Cardinal d’Ossat’s letters show how letters of business ought to be written; no affected turns, no attempts at wit, obscure or perplex his matter; which is always plainly and clearly stated, as business always should be. For gay and amusing letters, for ‘enjouement and badinage,’ there are none that equal Comte Bussy’s and Madame Sevigne’s. They are so natural, that they seem to be the extempore conversations of two people of wit, rather, than letters which are commonly studied, though they ought not to be so. I would advise you to let that book be one in your itinerant library; it will both amuse and inform you.
DEAR BOY: In your mom’s letter, which is included here, you’ll find one from my sister thanking you for the Arquebusade water you sent her, which she really appreciates. She wouldn’t show me her letter to you, but she told me it had good wishes and advice. Since I know she’ll show you my letter in response, I’ve included a draft of the letter I’d like you to write to her. I hope you won’t mind my helping you with this; I assume you’re not used to writing to ladies just yet. Speaking of letter-writing, the best models you can learn from are Cicero, Cardinal d’Ossat, Madame Sevigne, and Comte Bussy Rebutin. Cicero’s letters to Atticus and his close friends are great examples for a friendly tone. Cardinal d’Ossat’s letters show how business correspondence should be written: straightforward and clear, without any pretentiousness or attempts at wit that could confuse the message, which should always be stated plainly, as business should. For cheerful and entertaining letters, you can’t beat Comte Bussy’s and Madame Sevigne’s. They feel so natural that they read more like spontaneous conversations between two witty people rather than letters that are typically more studied, though they shouldn’t have to be. I recommend keeping that book in your travel library; it will both entertain and inform you.
I have not time to add any more now; so good night.
I don't have time to add anything more right now, so good night.
LETTER XII
LONDON, July 30, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: It is now four posts since I have received any letter, either from you or from Mr. Harte. I impute this to the rapidity of your travels through Switzerland; which I suppose are by this time finished.
DEAR BOY: It's now been four posts since I've received any letter, either from you or from Mr. Harte. I blame this on how quickly you're moving through Switzerland; I assume your travels there are over by now.
You will have found by my late letters, both to you and Mr. Harte, that you are to be at Leipsig by next Michaelmas; where you will be lodged in the house of Professor Mascow, and boarded in the neighborhood of it, with some young men of fashion. The professor will read you lectures upon ‘Grotius de Jure Belli et Pacis,’ the ‘Institutes of Justinian’ and the ‘Jus Publicum Imperii;’ which I expect that you shall not only hear, but attend to, and retain. I also expect that you make yourself perfectly master of the German language; which you may very soon do there, if you please. I give you fair warning, that at Leipsig I shall have an hundred invisible spies about you; and shall be exactly informed of everything that you do, and of almost everything that you say. I hope that, in consequence of those minute informations, I may be able to say of you, what Velleius Paterculus says of Scipio; that in his whole life, ‘nihil non laudandum aut dixit, aut fecit, aut sensit.’ There is a great deal of good company in Leipsig, which I would have you frequent in the evenings, when the studies of the day are over. There is likewise a kind of court kept there, by a Duchess Dowager of Courland; at which you should get introduced. The King of Poland and his Court go likewise to the fair at Leipsig twice a year; and I shall write to Sir Charles Williams, the king’s minister there, to have you presented, and introduced into good company. But I must remind you, at the same time, that it will be to a very little purpose for you to frequent good company, if you do not conform to, and learn their manners; if you are not attentive to please, and well bred, with the easiness of a man of fashion. As you must attend to your manners, so you must not neglect your person; but take care to be very clean, well dressed, and genteel; to have no disagreeable attitudes, nor awkward tricks; which many people use themselves to, and then cannot leave them off. Do you take care to keep your teeth very clean, by washing them constantly every morning, and after every meal? This is very necessary, both to preserve your teeth a great while, and to save you a great deal of pain. Mine have plagued me long, and are now falling out, merely from want of care when I was your age. Do you dress well, and not too well? Do you consider your air and manner of presenting yourself enough, and not too much? Neither negligent nor stiff? All these things deserve a degree of care, a second-rate attention; they give an additional lustre to real merit. My Lord Bacon says, that a pleasing figure is a perpetual letter of recommendation. It is certainly an agreeable forerunner of merit, and smoothes the way for it.
You’ve probably gathered from my recent letters to you and Mr. Harte that you’ll be in Leipzig by next Michaelmas. You’ll be staying at Professor Mascow’s house and boarding nearby with some fashionable young men. The professor will give you lectures on ‘Grotius on the Law of War and Peace,’ the ‘Institutes of Justinian,’ and the ‘Public Law of the Empire,’ which I expect you to not only listen to but also pay attention to and remember. I also hope you become fully proficient in German, which you can do quickly if you want to. I should warn you that in Leipzig I will have a hundred invisible spies keeping tabs on you, and I’ll be fully informed about everything you do and almost everything you say. I hope that, thanks to these detailed updates, I can say of you what Velleius Paterculus said of Scipio, that in his entire life, "he never said, did, or felt anything that wasn’t worthy of praise." There’s a lot of good company in Leipzig that I want you to socialize with in the evenings after classes. There’s also a sort of court held there by a Duchess Dowager of Courland, and you should get introduced to her. The King of Poland and his court also visit the fair in Leipzig twice a year, and I’ll write to Sir Charles Williams, the king’s minister there, to have you presented and introduced to good company. But I must remind you that it won’t be very helpful to hang out with good company if you don’t adapt to and learn their manners; you need to be attentive to please, well-mannered, and effortlessly fashionable. Just as you need to pay attention to your manners, you must also take care of your appearance—be clean, well-dressed, and stylish; avoid any uncomfortable postures or awkward habits that many people develop and then can’t shake off. Make sure to keep your teeth very clean by brushing them every morning and after every meal. This is essential to preserve your teeth for a long time and to avoid a lot of pain. Mine have troubled me for a long time and are now falling out just because I didn’t take care when I was your age. Do you dress well, but not excessively? Do you think about your posture and the way you present yourself enough, but not obsessively? Neither too casual nor too stiff? All these things deserve some attention; they add extra polish to real talent. My Lord Bacon says that a pleasing appearance is a constant letter of recommendation. It certainly is a favorable precursor to merit and paves the way for it.
Remember that I shall see you at Hanover next summer, and shall expect perfection; which if I do not meet with, or at least something very near it, you and I shall, not be very well together. I shall dissect and analyze you with a microscope; so that I shall discover the least speck or blemish. This is fair warning; therefore take your measures accordingly. Yours.
Remember that I'll see you in Hanover next summer, and I'll be expecting perfection. If I don't see that, or at least something very close to it, we won't be getting along very well. I'll analyze you closely, looking for even the smallest flaw or imperfection. This is your fair warning, so plan accordingly. Yours.
LETTER XIII
LONDON, August 21, O. S. 1747.
DEAR BOY: I reckon that this letter has but a bare chance of finding you at Lausanne; but I was resolved to risk it, as it is the last that I shall write to you till you are settled at Leipsig. I sent you by the last post, under cover to Mr. Harte, a letter of recommendation to one of the first people at Munich; which you will take care to present to him in the politest manner; he will certainly have you presented to the electoral family; and I hope you will go through that ceremony with great respect, good breeding, and ease. As this is the first court that ever you will have been at, take care to inform yourself if there be any particular, customs or forms to be observed, that you may not commit any mistake. At Vienna men always make courtesies, instead of bows, to the emperor; in France nobody bows at all to the king, nor kisses his hand; but in Spain and England, bows are made, and hands are kissed. Thus every court has some peculiarity or other, of which those who go to them ought previously to inform themselves, to avoid blunders and awkwardnesses.
DEAR BOY: I think there's only a slim chance this letter will reach you in Lausanne, but I decided to take the risk since it's the last one I’ll write until you’re settled in Leipzig. I sent you a letter of recommendation to one of the top people in Munich via the last post, addressed to Mr. Harte. Make sure to present it to him in the politest way possible; he will definitely arrange for you to meet the electoral family, and I hope you handle that introduction with great respect, good manners, and confidence. Since this is the first court you’ll be attending, make sure to learn about any specific customs or protocols to avoid making any mistakes. In Vienna, people do bows instead of curtsies for the emperor; in France, no one bows or kisses the king's hand at all; but in Spain and England, bows are made, and hands are kissed. Every court has its own unique customs, so it's important for newcomers to find out about them in advance to steer clear of blunders and awkward situations.
I have not time to say any more now, than to wish you good journey to Leipsig; and great attention, both there and in going there. Adieu.
I don't have time to say much more right now, except to wish you a good trip to Leipzig and to take good care while you're there and on the way. Goodbye.
LETTER XIV
LONDON, September 21, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: I received, by the last post, your letter of the 8th, N. S., and I do not wonder that you are surprised at the credulity and superstition of the Papists at Einsiedlen, and at their absurd stories of their chapel. But remember, at the same time, that errors and mistakes, however gross, in matters of opinion, if they are sincere, are to be pitied, but not punished nor laughed at. The blindness of the understanding is as much to be pitied as the blindness of the eye; and there is neither jest nor guilt in a man’s losing his way in either case. Charity bids us set him right if we can, by arguments and persuasions; but charity, at the same time, forbids, either to punish or ridicule his misfortune. Every man’s reason is, and must be, his guide; and I may as well expect that every man should be of my size and complexion, as that he should reason just as I do. Every man seeks for truth; but God only knows who has found it. It is, therefore, as unjust to persecute, as it is absurd to ridicule, people for those several opinions, which they cannot help entertaining upon the conviction of their reason. It is the man who tells, or who acts a lie, that is guilty, and not he who honestly and sincerely believes the lie. I really know nothing more criminal, more mean, and more ridiculous than lying. It is the production either of malice, cowardice, or vanity; and generally misses of its aim in every one of these views; for lies are always detected sooner or later. If I tell a malicious lie, in order to affect any man’s fortune or character, I may indeed injure him for some time; but I shall be sure to be the greatest sufferer myself at last; for as soon as ever I am detected (and detected I most certainly shall be), I am blasted for the infamous attempt; and whatever is said afterward, to the disadvantage of that person, however true, passes for calumny. If I lie, or equivocate (for it is the same thing), in order to excuse myself for something that I have said or done, and to avoid the danger and the shame that I apprehend from it, I discover at once my fear as well as my falsehood; and only increase, instead of avoiding, the danger and the shame; I show myself to be the lowest and the meanest of mankind, and am sure to be always treated as such. Fear, instead of avoiding, invites danger; for concealed cowards will insult known ones. If one has had the misfortune to be in the wrong, there is something noble in frankly owning it; it is the only way of atoning for it, and the only way of being forgiven. Equivocating, evading, shuffling, in order to remove a present danger or inconveniency, is something so mean, and betrays so much fear, that whoever practices them always deserves to be, and often will be kicked. There is another sort of lies, inoffensive enough in themselves, but wonderfully ridiculous; I mean those lies which a mistaken vanity suggests, that defeat the very end for which they are calculated, and terminate in the humiliation and confusion of their author, who is sure to be detected. These are chiefly narrative and historical lies, all intended to do infinite honor to their author. He is always the hero of his own romances; he has been in dangers from which nobody but himself ever escaped; he has seen with his own eyes, whatever other people have heard or read of: he has had more ‘bonnes fortunes’ than ever he knew women; and has ridden more miles post in one day, than ever courier went in two. He is soon discovered, and as soon becomes the object of universal contempt and ridicule. Remember, then, as long as you live, that nothing but strict truth can carry you through the world, with either your conscience or your honor unwounded. It is not only your duty, but your interest; as a proof of which you may always observe, that the greatest fools are the greatest liars. For my own part, I judge of every man’s truth by his degree of understanding.
DEAR BOY: I received your letter from the 8th, N. S., via the last post, and I can’t say I’m surprised by your shock at the gullibility and superstition of the Papists in Einsiedlen and their ridiculous tales about their chapel. Just remember that mistakes and misconceptions, no matter how outrageous, in matters of belief, if they come from sincerity, deserve our pity, not punishment or mockery. The ignorance of understanding is as sad as the blindness of the eye; there’s nothing funny or shameful about someone losing their way in either case. Compassion urges us to correct them if we can, using reasoning and persuasion; but compassion also prohibits us from punishing or ridiculing their misfortunes. Each person's reasoning is, and has to be, their own guide; I might as well expect everyone to be the same size and color as me as to think they should reason exactly like I do. Everyone seeks the truth, but only God knows who has really discovered it. Therefore, it’s just as wrong to persecute as it is foolish to mock people for their beliefs, which they hold based on their own reasoning. The real guilt lies with the person who tells a lie or acts on one, not with someone who sincerely believes the lie. I honestly can’t think of anything more criminal, lower, or more ridiculous than lying. It stems from malice, cowardice, or vanity; and it generally fails to achieve its intended effect because lies are always uncovered sooner or later. If I tell a vicious lie to hurt someone’s reputation or fortune, I might manage to harm them temporarily; but in the end, I’ll be the one who suffers the most. As soon as I’m caught (and I definitely will be), I’ll be branded for that infamous act, and anything said after that about the other person, no matter how true, will be considered slander. If I lie or twist the truth to defend myself or to escape the consequences of something I’ve said or done, it only reveals my fear along with my dishonesty; and I only increase, rather than reduce, the risks and shame. I show myself to be the most despicable of people and can expect to be treated as such. Fear draws danger closer; hidden cowards will provoke those who are openly cowardly. If someone has made a mistake, there’s something admirable about admitting it; it’s the only real way to make amends and earn forgiveness. Dodging, avoiding, or shuffling to escape a current threat or discomfort is so low and shows such fear that anyone who does it deserves to be—and often will be—kicked. There’s also another kind of lies that are harmless enough by themselves but incredibly foolish; I’m talking about the lies that stem from misguided vanity, which undermine the very purpose for which they’re told, leading to the humiliation and embarrassment of the liar, who is bound to be found out. These are mostly narrative and historical tales aimed at giving immense credit to the teller. He always casts himself as the hero of his own stories; he has faced dangers that no one else has survived; he has witnessed events that others have only heard or read about; he has had more good fortune than he has known women; and he has traveled more miles in one day than any courier has in two. He’s easily exposed and quickly becomes a target of ridicule and scorn. So, remember for the rest of your life that only strict truth can help you navigate the world without damaging your conscience or your honor. This is not only your responsibility, but also your best interest; just look around, and you’ll see that the biggest fools are also the biggest liars. Personally, I judge everyone’s honesty based on their level of understanding.
This letter will, I suppose, find you at Leipsig; where I expect and require from you attention and accuracy, in both which you have hitherto been very deficient. Remember that I shall see you in the summer; shall examine you most narrowly; and will never forget nor forgive those faults, which it has been in your own power to prevent or cure; and be assured that I have many eyes upon you at Leipsig, besides Mr. Harte’s. Adieu!
This letter will, I guess, reach you in Leipzig, where I expect and need your attention and accuracy, both of which you've been lacking so far. Keep in mind that I'll see you this summer; I'll scrutinize you closely and will never forget or forgive those mistakes that you could have avoided or fixed. Be assured that I have many people watching you in Leipzig, in addition to Mr. Harte. Goodbye!
LETTER XV
LONDON, October 2, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: By your letter of the 18th past, N. S., I find that you are a tolerably good landscape painter, and can present the several views of Switzerland to the curious. I am very glad of it, as it is a proof of some attention; but I hope you will be as good a portrait painter, which is a much more noble science. By portraits, you will easily judge, that I do not mean the outlines and the coloring of the human figure; but the inside of the heart and mind of man. This science requires more attention, observation, and penetration, than the other; as indeed it is infinitely more useful. Search, therefore, with the greatest care, into the characters of those whom you converse with; endeavor to discover their predominant passions, their prevailing weaknesses, their vanities, their follies, and their humors, with all the right and wrong, wise and silly springs of human actions, which make such inconsistent and whimsical beings of us rational creatures. A moderate share of penetration, with great attention, will infallibly make these necessary discoveries. This is the true knowledge of the world; and the world is a country which nobody ever yet knew by description; one must travel through it one’s self to be acquainted with it. The scholar, who in the dust of his closet talks or writes of the world, knows no more of it, than that orator did of war, who judiciously endeavored to instruct Hannibal in it. Courts and camps are the only places to learn the world in. There alone all kinds of characters resort, and human nature is seen in all the various shapes and modes, which education, custom, and habit give it; whereas, in all other places, one local mode generally prevails, and producing a seeming though not a real sameness of character. For example, one general mode distinguishes an university, another a trading town, a third a seaport town, and so on; whereas, at a capital, where the Prince or the Supreme Power resides, some of all these various modes are to be seen and seen in action too, exerting their utmost skill in pursuit of their several objects. Human nature is the same all over the world; but its operations are so varied by education and habit, that one must see it in all its dresses in order to be intimately acquainted with it. The passion of ambition, for instance, is the same in a courtier, a soldier, or an ecclesiastic; but, from their different educations and habits, they will take very different methods to gratify it. Civility, which is a disposition to accommodate and oblige others, is essentially the same in every country; but good-breeding, as it is called, which is the manner of exerting that disposition, is different in almost every country, and merely local; and every man of sense imitates and conforms to that local good-breeding of the place which he is at. A conformity and flexibility of manners is necessary in the course of the world; that is, with regard to all things which are not wrong in themselves. The ‘versatile ingenium’ is the most useful of all. It can turn itself instantly from one object to another, assuming the proper manner for each. It can be serious with the grave, cheerful with the gay, and trifling with the frivolous. Endeavor by all means, to acquire this talent, for it is a very great one.
DEAR BOY: From your letter dated the 18th of last month, N. S., I see that you’re a pretty decent landscape painter and can present various views of Switzerland to those interested. I’m really glad to hear that, as it shows you’re paying attention; however, I hope you’ll also become a great portrait painter, as that’s a far more noble pursuit. By portrait painting, I don’t just mean the shapes and colors of the human figure; I’m talking about the depths of the heart and mind of a person. This field demands more attention, observation, and insight than landscape painting does, as it’s significantly more valuable. So, make sure to carefully examine the characters of the people you interact with; try to discover their main passions, their weaknesses, their vanities, their follies, and their moods, along with the right and wrong, wise and foolish reasons behind human actions, which make us such inconsistent and quirky beings. Even a moderate level of insight, combined with great focus, will definitely help you make these necessary observations. This is the true knowledge of the world, and the world is a place that nobody has ever truly understood through descriptions alone; one must experience it firsthand to truly know it. A scholar who spends time in the confines of his study talking or writing about the world knows about it no more than an orator who tried to instruct Hannibal about war without having experienced it. Only courts and military camps are the true places to learn about the world. That’s where all kinds of characters gather, and human nature shows up in all its various forms, shaped by education, customs, and habits; in contrast, other places tend to have a strong local cultural influence that creates an apparent, though not actual, uniformity of character. For example, one general culture defines a university, another a trading town, and a third a seaport town, and so forth; however, in a capital city, where the Prince or the ruling power is located, you’ll see a mix of all these types in action, each trying their best to pursue their individual goals. Human nature is fundamentally the same everywhere, but its expressions are so shaped by education and habit that you need to see it in all its variations to truly understand it. The drive for ambition, for instance, is essentially the same whether in a courtier, a soldier, or a clergyman; however, because of their different backgrounds and customs, they’ll find very different ways to achieve it. Civility, which is the tendency to accommodate and help others, is basically the same in every country, but good manners, as we call it, which is how that tendency is expressed, varies widely and is often specific to local culture; every sensible person adapts to the local standards of good manners wherever they are. A certain flexibility in behavior is essential in navigating the world, especially in matters that are not inherently wrong. The ability to adapt quickly is the most useful of all; it allows someone to shift focus instantly from one situation to another, taking on the appropriate demeanor for each. You can be serious with serious folks, upbeat with cheerful people, and playful with those who are lighthearted. So, by all means, work on acquiring this skill, as it is a truly valuable one.
As I hardly know anything more useful, than to see, from time to time, pictures of one’s self drawn by different hands, I send you here a sketch of yourself, drawn at Lausanne, while you were there, and sent over here by a person who little thought that it would ever fall into my hands: and indeed it was by the greatest accident in the world that it did.
Since I rarely come across anything more valuable than seeing occasional images of myself created by different artists, I'm sending you a sketch of yourself that was drawn in Lausanne while you were there. It was sent here by someone who never imagined it would end up in my hands, and it truly was the most remarkable coincidence that it did.
LETTER XVI
LONDON, October 9, O. S. 1747.
DEAR BOY: People of your age have, commonly, an unguarded frankness about them; which makes them the easy prey and bubbles of the artful and the experienced; they look upon every knave or fool, who tells them that he is their friend, to be really so; and pay that profession of simulated friendship, with an indiscreet and unbounded confidence, always to their loss, often to their ruin. Beware, therefore, now that you are coming into the world, of these preferred friendships. Receive them with great civility, but with great incredulity too; and pay them with compliments, but not with confidence. Do not let your vanity and self-love make you suppose that people become your friends at first sight, or even upon a short acquaintance. Real friendship is a slow grower and never thrives unless engrafted upon a stock of known and reciprocal merit. There is another kind of nominal friendship among young people, which is warm for the time, but by good luck, of short duration. This friendship is hastily produced, by their being accidentally thrown together, and pursuing the course of riot and debauchery. A fine friendship, truly; and well cemented by drunkenness and lewdness. It should rather be called a conspiracy against morals and good manners, and be punished as such by the civil magistrate. However, they have the impudence and folly to call this confederacy a friendship. They lend one another money, for bad purposes; they engage in quarrels, offensive and defensive for their accomplices; they tell one another all they know, and often more too, when, of a sudden, some accident disperses them, and they think no more of each other, unless it be to betray and laugh, at their imprudent confidence. Remember to make a great difference between companions and friends; for a very complaisant and agreeable companion may, and often does, prove a very improper and a very dangerous friend. People will, in a great degree, and not without reason, form their opinion of you, upon that which they have of your friends; and there is a Spanish proverb, which says very justly, TELL ME WHO YOU LIVE WITH AND I WILL TELL YOU WHO YOU ARE. One may fairly suppose, that the man who makes a knave or a fool his friend, has something very bad to do or to conceal. But, at the same time that you carefully decline the friendship of knaves and fools, if it can be called friendship, there is no occasion to make either of them your enemies, wantonly and unprovoked; for they are numerous bodies: and I, would rather choose a secure neutrality, than alliance, or war with either of them. You may be a declared enemy to their vices and follies, without being marked out by them as a personal one. Their enmity is the next dangerous thing to their friendship. Have a real reserve with almost everybody; and have a seeming reserve with almost nobody; for it is very disagreeable to seem reserved, and very dangerous not to be so. Few people find the true medium; many are ridiculously mysterious and reserved upon trifles; and many imprudently communicative of all they know.
DEAR BOY: People your age often have a naive honesty about them, which makes them easy targets for those who are manipulative and experienced. They tend to believe that anyone who claims to be their friend genuinely is, and they respond to this fake friendship with a foolish and unchecked trust, which usually leads to their disadvantage and sometimes to their downfall. So, as you enter the world, be cautious of these superficial friendships. Accept them politely, but also with skepticism; flatter them, but don't place your trust in them. Don't let your vanity make you think that people become friends with you just by looking at you or after a brief encounter. True friendship develops slowly and only flourishes when based on mutual respect and merit. There’s another type of fake friendship common among young people, which feels intense in the moment but is usually short-lived. This type of friendship arises quickly when people are randomly thrown together and engage in reckless behavior. It’s more of a reckless bond formed by drinking and debauchery, which could be seen as a conspiracy against good morals, deserving of social reprimand. Still, they foolishly call this bond friendship. They lend each other money for bad reasons, get into fights for each other, share secrets, and often end up laughing at each other when circumstances separate them, betraying the foolish trust they placed in one another. Remember, there's a significant difference between companions and friends; a pleasant and agreeable companion can often turn out to be a bad and dangerous friend. People will largely form their opinions about you based on your friends, and there's a Spanish proverb that aptly says, "TELL ME WHO YOU LIVE WITH AND I WILL TELL YOU WHO YOU ARE." It's reasonable to assume that someone who befriends a rogue or a fool likely has something suspicious to hide. However, while you should be careful to avoid the company of rogues and fools, there's no need to make them your enemies without cause, as they are many. I would prefer to stay neutral rather than ally with or go to war against them. You can oppose their vices without becoming their target. Their hostility can be almost as dangerous as their friendship. Keep a real distance from almost everyone, but appear open and friendly to most; being too reserved is unpleasant, while being too open can be perilous. Few people find the right balance; many are absurdly secretive about minor issues, while others recklessly share everything they know.
The next thing to the choice of your friends, is the choice of your company. Endeavor, as much as you can, to keep company with people above you: there you rise, as much as you sink with people below you; for (as I have mentioned before) you are whatever the company you keep is. Do not mistake, when I say company above you, and think that I mean with regard to, their birth: that is the least consideration; but I mean with regard to their merit, and the light in which the world considers them.
The next important thing after choosing your friends is choosing your company. Try, as much as possible, to spend time with people who are above you; you'll rise with them just as you’ll sink with those below you. (As I mentioned before) you become like the people you hang out with. Don’t misunderstand me when I say “people above you”—I’m not referring to their birth; that's the least important factor. What I mean is regarding their abilities and how the world views them.
There are two sorts of good company; one, which is called the beau monde, and consists of the people who have the lead in courts, and in the gay parts of life; the other consists of those who are distinguished by some peculiar merit, or who excel in some particular and valuable art or science. For my own part, I used to think myself in company as, much above me, when I was with Mr. Addison and Mr. Pope, as if I had been with all the princes in Europe. What I mean by low company, which should by all means be avoided, is the company of those, who, absolutely insignificant and contemptible in themselves, think they are honored by being in your company; and who flatter every vice and every folly you have, in order to engage you to converse with them. The pride of being the first of the company is but too common; but it is very silly, and very prejudicial. Nothing in the world lets down a character quicker than that wrong turn.
There are two types of good company: one is the social elite, made up of people who lead in society and in the lively parts of life; the other includes those who stand out for their unique abilities or who excel in a specific valuable art or science. Personally, I used to feel like I was in the presence of greatness when I was with Mr. Addison and Mr. Pope, just as if I were among all the princes in Europe. By "low company," which should definitely be avoided, I mean the kind of people who are completely insignificant and contemptible but think they are honored to be in your presence; they flatter every vice and folly you have in order to engage you in conversation. The desire to be the most important person in the group is unfortunately common, but it’s foolish and harmful. Nothing can damage a reputation faster than that misguided attitude.
You may possibly ask me, whether a man has it always in his power to get the best company? and how? I say, Yes, he has, by deserving it; providing he is but in circumstances which enable him to appear upon the footing of a gentleman. Merit and good-breeding will make their way everywhere. Knowledge will introduce him, and good-breeding will endear him to the best companies: for, as I have often told you, politeness and good-breeding are absolutely necessary to adorn any, or all other good qualities or talents. Without them, no knowledge, no perfection whatever, is seen in its best light. The scholar, without good-breeding, is a pedant; the philosopher, a cynic; the soldier, a brute; and every man disagreeable.
You might ask me whether a person can always have access to the best company and how that’s possible. I say yes, it is possible, by earning it, as long as they are in a position that allows them to present themselves as a gentleman. Merit and good manners can open doors everywhere. Knowledge will get him introduced, and good manners will make him appealing to the best circles. As I’ve often mentioned, politeness and good manners are essential to enhance any other qualities or talents. Without them, no knowledge or perfection is seen in its true light. A scholar without good manners is just a pedant; a philosopher, a cynic; a soldier, a brute; and every man becomes unpleasant.
I long to hear, from my several correspondents at Leipsig, of your arrival there, and what impression you make on them at first; for I have Arguses, with an hundred eyes each, who will watch you narrowly, and relate to me faithfully. My accounts will certainly be true; it depends upon you, entirely, of what kind they shall be. Adieu.
I’m eager to hear from my various friends in Leipzig about your arrival there and the first impression you make on them. I have multiple people, each with a hundred eyes, who will be watching you closely and will report back to me honestly. My accounts will definitely be accurate; it’s entirely up to you what kind they will be. Goodbye.
LETTER XVII
LONDON, October 16, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: The art of pleasing is a very necessary one to possess; but a very difficult one to acquire. It can hardly be reduced to rules; and your own good sense and observation will teach you more of it than I can. Do as you would be done by, is the surest method that I know of pleasing. Observe carefully what pleases you in others, and probably the same thing in you will please others. If you are pleased with the complaisance and attention of others to your humors, your tastes, or your weaknesses, depend upon it the same complaisance and attention, on your part to theirs, will equally please them. Take the tone of the company that you are in, and do not pretend to give it; be serious, gay, or even trifling, as you find the present humor of the company; this is an attention due from every individual to the majority. Do not tell stories in company; there is nothing more tedious and disagreeable; if by chance you know a very short story, and exceedingly applicable to the present subject of conversation, tell it in as few words as possible; and even then, throw out that you do not love to tell stories; but that the shortness of it tempted you. Of all things, banish the egotism out of your conversation, and never think of entertaining people with your own personal concerns, or private, affairs; though they are interesting to you, they are tedious and impertinent to everybody else; besides that, one cannot keep one’s own private affairs too secret. Whatever you think your own excellencies may be, do not affectedly display them in company; nor labor, as many people do, to give that turn to the conversation, which may supply you with an opportunity of exhibiting them. If they are real, they will infallibly be discovered, without your pointing them out yourself, and with much more advantage. Never maintain an argument with heat and clamor, though you think or know yourself to be in the right: but give your opinion modestly and coolly, which is the only way to convince; and, if that does not do, try to change the conversation, by saying, with good humor, “We shall hardly convince one another, nor is it necessary that we should, so let us talk of something else.”
DEAR BOY: The skill of making others happy is essential, but it's also hard to learn. There aren't really any strict rules for it; your own common sense and observations will teach you more than I can. Treat others the way you want to be treated; that's the best method I know for making people happy. Pay attention to what you like in others, because chances are, the same things will please them in you. If you appreciate when others are considerate and attentive to your moods, preferences, or weaknesses, know that offering the same consideration and attention to them will also make them happy. Adapt to the mood of the group you're with, and don't try to set it; be serious, cheerful, or even a little silly, depending on the vibe of the people around you. This is a courtesy every person owes to the majority. Avoid telling long stories when you’re with others; they can be boring and annoying. If you happen to know a very short story that's perfect for the current conversation, share it briefly and quickly, mentioning that you don't usually tell stories, but this one was tempting because of its length. Above all, keep egotism out of your conversation; don’t think it’s entertaining to share your personal issues or private matters. Even if they matter to you, they're probably boring and inappropriate to everyone else, and besides, you should keep your private life under wraps. Whatever you think your strengths are, don’t forcefully showcase them in group settings, nor try to steer the conversation so you can show them off. If they are genuine, people will notice them on their own, and it will be much more effective. Never argue heatedly, even if you believe you’re right; instead, share your opinion calmly and modestly, which is the best way to persuade others. If that doesn’t work, try to shift the conversation by saying with a good attitude, “We’re probably not going to convince each other, and that’s okay, so let’s talk about 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.
Keep in mind that there's a local etiquette to follow in every group; what might be completely acceptable in one group can be, and often is, very inappropriate in another.
The jokes, the ‘bonmots,’ the little adventures, which may do very well in one company, will seem flat and tedious, when related in another. The particular characters, the habits, the cant of one company, may give merit to a word, or a gesture, which would have none at all if divested of those accidental circumstances. Here people very commonly err; and fond of something that has entertained them in one company, and in certain circumstances, repeat it with emphasis in another, where it is either insipid, or, it may be, offensive, by being ill-timed or misplaced. Nay, they often do it with this silly preamble; “I will tell you an excellent thing”; or, “I will tell you the best thing in the world.” This raises expectations, which, when absolutely disappointed, make the relater of this excellent thing look, very deservedly, like a fool.
The jokes, the witty remarks, the little adventures that might go over well in one group can come off as boring and tedious when shared in another. The specific personalities, habits, and inside jokes of one group can make a word or gesture seem clever, but it would fall flat without those situational details. People often make this mistake; they get attached to something that entertained them in one setting and try to repeat it with enthusiasm in a different situation, where it can end up being bland or even inappropriate because it’s poorly timed or out of place. They often start with a silly introduction like, “I’ve got a great story for you,” or, “I’m about to share the best thing ever.” This builds up expectations, and when they inevitably fall short, the person sharing it ends up looking foolish, which they deserve.
If you would particularly gain the affection and friendship of particular people, whether men or women, endeavor to find out the predominant excellency, if they have one, and their prevailing weakness, which everybody has; and do justice to the one, and something more than justice to the other. Men have various objects in which they may excel, or at least would be thought to excel; and, though they love to hear justice done to them, where they know that they excel, yet they are most and best flattered upon those points where they wish to excel, and yet are doubtful whether they do or not. As, for example, Cardinal Richelieu, who was undoubtedly the ablest statesman of his time, or perhaps of any other, had the idle vanity of being thought the best poet too; he envied the great Corneille his reputation, and ordered a criticism to be written upon the “Cid.” Those, therefore, who flattered skillfully, said little to him of his abilities in state affairs, or at least but ‘en passant,’ and as it might naturally occur. But the incense which they gave him, the smoke of which they knew would turn his head in their favor, was as a ‘bel esprit’ and a poet. Why? Because he was sure of one excellency, and distrustful as to the other. You will easily discover every man’s prevailing vanity, by observing his favorite topic of conversation; for every man talks most of what he has most a mind to be thought to excel in. Touch him but there, and you touch him to the quick. The late Sir Robert Walpole (who was certainly an able man) was little open to flattery upon that head; for he was in no doubt himself about it; but his prevailing weakness was, to be thought to have a polite and happy turn to gallantry; of which he had undoubtedly less than any man living: it was his favorite and frequent subject of conversation: which proved, to those who had any penetration, that it was his prevailing weakness. And they applied to it with success.
If you want to win the affection and friendship of specific people, whether they're men or women, try to figure out their main strength, if they have one, and their key weakness, which everyone has. Acknowledge their strengths fairly, but go above and beyond when it comes to their weaknesses. Men can excel in various areas, or at least want to be seen as excelling. While they appreciate recognition for their known strengths, they are most flattered when it comes to things they aspire to be good at but are unsure if they actually are. For instance, Cardinal Richelieu, who was undoubtedly the most skilled statesman of his time—or perhaps any time—was vain enough to want to be seen as the best poet too; he envied the famous Corneille and commissioned a critique of the “Cid.” So, those who flattered him wisely would say little about his political talents, or at least only mention them casually. However, the praise they gave him for being a 'wit' and a poet was what truly captured his attention. Why? Because he was confident in one talent but unsure about the other. You can easily identify a person's main vanity by paying attention to their favorite topics of conversation; everyone talks the most about what they want to be recognized for. Just mention that, and you strike a nerve. The late Sir Robert Walpole (who was certainly a capable man) didn't respond much to flattery in that area because he had no doubts about it. However, his main weakness was wanting to be seen as charming and good at romance, something he was actually the least skilled at. This was his favorite topic to discuss, which showed those who were perceptive that it was indeed his weak spot. They successfully played to it.
Women have, in general, but one object, which is their beauty; upon which, scarce any flattery is too gross for them to swallow. Nature has hardly formed a woman ugly enough to be insensible to flattery upon her person; if her face is so shocking, that she must in some degree, be conscious of it, her figure and her air, she trusts, make ample amends for it. If her figure is deformed, her face, she thinks, counterbalances it. If they are both bad, she comforts herself that she has graces; a certain manner; a ‘je ne sais quoi,’ still more engaging than beauty. This truth is evident, from the studied and elaborate dress of the ugliest women in the world. An undoubted, uncontested, conscious beauty, is of all women, the least sensible of flattery upon that head; she knows that it is her due, and is therefore obliged to nobody for giving it her. She must be flattered upon her understanding; which, though she may possibly not doubt of herself, yet she suspects that men may distrust.
Women typically have just one goal: their beauty. There's hardly any flattery too excessive for them to accept. Nature has rarely made a woman so unattractive that she doesn't respond to compliments about her appearance; if her face is quite dreadful, she hopes her figure and demeanor more than make up for it. If her figure is flawed, she believes her face balances it out. If both are lacking, she reassures herself that she has charm, a certain style, a 'je ne sais quoi' that can be even more appealing than beauty. This is clear from the carefully chosen outfits of even the most unattractive women in the world. A woman with undeniable beauty is, of all women, the least affected by flattery concerning her looks; she knows it’s her right and doesn’t feel indebted to anyone for it. Instead, she needs praise for her intelligence, which, although she may be confident in, she suspects men might doubt.
Do not mistake me, and think that I mean to recommend to you abject and criminal flattery: no; flatter nobody’s vices or crimes: on the contrary, abhor and discourage them. But there is no living in the world without a complaisant indulgence for people’s weaknesses, and innocent, though ridiculous vanities. If a man has a mind to be thought wiser, and a woman handsomer than they really are, their error is a comfortable one to themselves, and an innocent one with regard to other people; and I would rather make them my friends, by indulging them in it, than my enemies, by endeavoring (and that to no purpose) to undeceive them.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not suggesting you engage in pathetic and dishonest flattery: absolutely not; don't condone anyone's flaws or wrongdoings. On the contrary, reject and discourage them. However, you can't get through life without showing a bit of understanding for people's weaknesses and harmless, if silly, vanities. If a man wants to be seen as wiser, and a woman as prettier than they truly are, it's a comforting illusion for them and doesn't harm others. I'd rather win them over as friends by letting them indulge in this than make them into foes by futilely trying to set them straight.
There are little attentions likewise, which are infinitely engaging, and which sensibly affect that degree of pride and self-love, which is inseparable from human nature; as they are unquestionable proofs of the regard and consideration which we have for the person to whom we pay them. As, for example, to observe the little habits, the likings, the antipathies, and the tastes of those whom we would gain; and then take care to provide them with the one, and to secure them from the other; giving them, genteelly, to understand, that you had observed that they liked such a dish, or such a room; for which reason you had prepared it: or, on the contrary, that having observed they had an aversion to such a dish, a dislike to such a person, etc., you had taken care to avoid presenting them. Such attention to such trifles flatters self-love much more than greater things, as it makes people think themselves almost the only objects of your thoughts and care.
There are also small gestures that are incredibly engaging and that noticeably impact that sense of pride and self-love that is part of human nature. They are clear signs of the attention and consideration we have for the person we show them to. For instance, noticing the little habits, preferences, dislikes, and tastes of those we want to impress, and then making an effort to provide what they enjoy while avoiding what they don’t like; subtly letting them know that you’ve noticed they enjoy a particular dish or setting, which is why you arranged it that way. Conversely, if you noticed they dislike a certain dish or person, you make sure to avoid bringing it up or including them. Such attention to small details flatters self-love much more than grand gestures, as it makes people feel like they are the primary focus of your thoughts and care.
These are some of the arcana necessary for your initiation in the great society of the world. I wish I had known them better at your age; I have paid the price of three-and-fifty years for them, and shall not grudge it, if you reap the advantage. Adieu.
These are some of the secrets you need for your initiation into the great society of the world. I wish I had known them better when I was your age; I've spent fifty-three years learning them, and I won’t regret it if you benefit from them. Goodbye.
LETTER XVIII
LONDON, October 30, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: I am very well pleased with your ‘Itinerarium,’ which you sent me from Ratisbon. It shows me that you observe and inquire as you go, which is the true end of traveling. Those who travel heedlessly from place to place, observing only their distance from each other, and attending only to their accommodation at the inn at night, set out fools, and will certainly return so. Those who only mind the raree-shows of the places which they go through, such as steeples, clocks, town-houses, etc., get so little by their travels, that they might as well stay at home. But those who observe, and inquire into the situations, the strength, the weakness, the trade, the manufactures, the government, and constitution of every place they go to; who frequent the best companies, and attend to their several manners and characters; those alone travel with advantage; and as they set out wise, return wiser.
DEAR BOY: I'm very pleased with your 'Itinerarium' that you sent me from Ratisbon. It shows that you observe and ask questions as you travel, which is the true purpose of traveling. Those who travel mindlessly from place to place, only noticing how far apart they are and focusing solely on their accommodations at night, start off foolish and will definitely come back the same way. Those who only pay attention to the attractions of the places they visit, like steeples, clocks, and town halls, gain so little from their travels that they might as well stay home. But those who observe and inquire about the geography, strengths, weaknesses, economy, industries, government, and constitution of each place they visit; who engage with the best people and pay attention to their various manners and personalities; those are the ones who travel with real benefit; and while they set out wise, they return even wiser.
I would advise you always to get the shortest description or history of every place where you make any stay; and such a book, however imperfect, will still suggest to you matter for inquiry; upon which you may get better informations from the people of the place. For example; while you are at Leipsig, get some short account (and to be sure there are many such) of the present state of the town, with regard to its magistrates, its police, its privileges, etc., and then inform yourself more minutely upon all those heads in, conversation with the most intelligent people. Do the same thing afterward with regard to the Electorate of Saxony: you will find a short history of it in Puffendorf’s Introduction, which will give you a general idea of it, and point out to you the proper objects of a more minute inquiry. In short, be curious, attentive, inquisitive, as to everything; listlessness and indolence are always blameable, but, at your age, they are unpardonable. Consider how precious, and how important for all the rest of your life, are your moments for these next three or four years; and do not lose one of them. Do not think I mean that you should study all day long; I am far from advising or desiring it: but I desire that you would be doing something or other all day long; and not neglect half hours and quarters of hours, which, at the year’s end, amount to a great sum. For instance, there are many short intervals during the day, between studies and pleasures: instead of sitting idle and yawning, in those intervals, take up any book, though ever so trifling a one, even down to a jest-book; it is still better than doing nothing.
I recommend you always get a brief description or history of every place where you stay. Even an imperfect book will give you topics to explore, which will lead to better information from the locals. For example, while you’re in Leipzig, find a short account (and there are many available) about the current state of the town, including its officials, police, privileges, etc. Then get more detailed information through conversations with knowledgeable people. Do the same later for the Electorate of Saxony: you can find a brief history in Puffendorf’s Introduction, which will provide a general idea and point out what you should explore further. In short, be curious, attentive, and inquisitive about everything; being lazy and indifferent is never acceptable, but at your age, it's even more unforgivable. Think about how valuable and important these next three or four years are for the rest of your life, and don’t waste a single moment. Don’t assume I mean you should study all day; I’m not suggesting that. However, I do want you to be doing something productive throughout the day, so don’t overlook those little chunks of time like half-hours, which can add up significantly over the year. For instance, there are many short breaks during the day between studying and leisure; instead of sitting around and yawning during those breaks, pick up any book, even a light one or a joke book; it’s still better than doing nothing.
Nor do I call pleasures idleness, or time lost, provided they are the pleasures of a rational being; on the contrary, a certain portion of your time, employed in those pleasures, is very usefully employed. Such are public spectacles, assemblies of good company, cheerful suppers, and even balls; but then, these require attention, or else your time is quite lost.
I don't consider pleasures as idleness or wasted time, as long as they come from a rational person; in fact, spending some of your time on those pleasures is actually very valuable. Things like public events, gatherings with good company, fun dinners, and even dances are included, but they do need your attention; otherwise, your time is completely wasted.
There are a great many people, who think themselves employed all day, and who, if they were to cast up their accounts at night, would find that they had done just nothing. They have read two or three hours mechanically, without attending to what they read, and consequently without either retaining it, or reasoning upon it. From thence they saunter into company, without taking any part in it, and without observing the characters of the persons, or the subjects of the conversation; but are either thinking of some trifle, foreign to the present purpose, or often not thinking at all; which silly and idle suspension of thought they would dignify with the name of ABSENCE and DISTRACTION. They go afterward, it may be, to the play, where they gape at the company and the lights; but without minding the very thing they went to, the play.
A lot of people think they are busy all day, but if they looked back at their day at night, they’d realize they accomplished nothing. They might have read for a couple of hours without really focusing on what they were reading, so they don't remember it or think about it. Then they go out to socialize but don’t engage in conversations or pay attention to the people around them or what’s being talked about. Instead, they’re either thinking about trivial things that don't matter or not thinking at all, which they mistakenly call being ABSENT or DISTRACTED. Later, they might go to a play, where they stare at the crowd and the lights but completely overlook what they actually went there for: the play.
Pray do you be as attentive to your pleasures as to your studies. In the latter, observe and reflect upon all you read; and, in the former, be watchful and attentive to all that you see and hear; and never have it to say, as a thousand fools do, of things that were said and done before their faces, that, truly, they did not mind them, because they were thinking of something else. Why were they thinking of something else? and if they were, why did they come there? The truth is, that the fools were thinking of nothing. Remember the ‘hoc age,’ do what you are about, be what it will; it is either worth doing well, or not at all. Wherever you are, have (as the low vulgar expression is) your ears and your eyes about you. Listen to everything that is said, and see everything that is done. Observe the looks and countenances of those who speak, which is often a surer way of discovering the truth than from what they say. But then keep all those observations to yourself, for your own private use, and rarely communicate them to others. Observe, without being thought an observer, for otherwise people will be upon their guard before you.
Please be just as mindful of your pleasures as you are of your studies. In the latter, pay attention to everything you read and think about it; in the former, be alert to everything you see and hear. Never be like those who, when they’ve witnessed events directly, claim they didn’t pay attention because they were lost in thought. Why were they thinking of something else? And if so, why did they come? The reality is that those people weren’t thinking about anything important. Remember "hoc age"—focus on what you are doing, whatever it may be; it’s either worth doing well or not worth doing at all. Wherever you are, keep your eyes and ears open. Listen to everything said and notice everything done. Pay attention to the expressions and faces of those speaking, as this can often reveal more truth than their words. But keep all those observations to yourself for your own use and rarely share them with others. Observe without appearing to observe; otherwise, people will be cautious around you.
Consider seriously, and follow carefully, I beseech you, my dear child, the advice which from time to time I have given, and shall continue to give you; it is at once the result of my long experience, and the effect of my tenderness for you. I can have no interest in it but yours. You are not yet capable of wishing yourself half so well as I wish you; follow therefore, for a time at least, implicitly, advice which you cannot suspect, though possibly you may not yet see the particular advantages of it; but you will one day feel them. Adieu.
Please take seriously and follow closely, I urge you, my dear child, the advice I've shared with you from time to time and will keep sharing; it comes from my long experience and my deep care for you. I have no interest in this advice except for your own well-being. You may not yet be capable of wanting the best for yourself as much as I want it for you; so, for now at least, please follow my advice without question, even if you can't see the specific benefits of it yet; but one day, you will. Goodbye.
LETTER XIX
LONDON, November 6, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: Three mails are now due from Holland, so that I have no letter from you to acknowledge; I write to you, therefore, now, as usual, by way of flapper, to put you in mind of yourself. Doctor Swift, in his account of the island of Laputa, describes some philosophers there who were so wrapped up and absorbed in their abstruse speculations, that they would have forgotten all the common and necessary duties of life, if they had not been reminded of them by persons who flapped them, whenever they observed them continue too long in any of those learned trances. I do not indeed suspect you of being absorbed in abstruse speculations; but, with great submission to you, may I not suspect that levity, inattention, and too little thinking, require a flapper, as well as too deep thinking? If my letters should happen to get to you when you are sitting by the fire and doing nothing, or when you are gaping at the window, may they not be very proper flaps, to put you in mind that you might employ your time much better? I knew once a very covetous, sordid fellow, who used frequently to say, “Take care of the pence; for the pounds will take care of themselves.” This was a just and sensible reflection in a miser. I recommend to you to take care of the minutes; for hours will take care of themselves. I am very sure, that many people lose two or three hours every day, by not taking care of the minutes. Never think any portion of time whatsoever too short to be employed; something or other may always be done in it.
DEAR BOY: Three letters from Holland are now overdue, so I don’t have anything from you to respond to. I’m writing to remind you about yourself, as usual. Doctor Swift, in his account of the island of Laputa, describes philosophers who were so caught up in their complicated ideas that they would forget all the basic duties of life unless someone flapped them back to reality when they got lost in their deep thoughts. I don’t actually think you’re lost in complicated ideas, but, if I may say so, could it be that distraction, inattention, and not thinking enough also need a little reminder, just like deep thinking does? If my letters happen to reach you while you’re sitting by the fire doing nothing, or staring out the window, might they serve as a reminder that you could be using your time better? I once knew a very greedy, stingy guy who would often say, “Take care of the pennies, and the pounds will look after themselves.” This was a wise thought from a miser. I suggest you take care of the minutes because the hours will manage themselves. I’m confident that many people waste two or three hours every day by not managing the minutes. Never think any amount of time is too short to be useful; you can always do something with it.
While you are in Germany, let all your historical studies be relative to Germany; not only the general history of the empire as a collective body; but the respective electorates, principalities, and towns; and also the genealogy of the most considerable families. A genealogy is no trifle in Germany; and they would rather prove their two-and-thirty quarters, than two-and-thirty cardinal virtues, if there were so many. They are not of Ulysses’ opinion, who says very truly,
While you're in Germany, make sure all your historical studies focus on Germany. This means not just the general history of the empire as a whole, but also the individual electorates, principalities, and towns, along with the family trees of the most significant families. Genealogy is a big deal in Germany; they’d rather prove their thirty-two quarters than thirty-two cardinal virtues, if there were that many. They don't share Ulysses' view, who says very truly,
——Genus et proavos, et qua non fecimus ipsi; Vix ea nostra
voco.
Good night.
——Genus and ancestors, and things we didn’t create ourselves; I can barely call these ours.
Good night.
LETTER XX
LONDON, November 24, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: As often as I write to you (and that you know is pretty often), so often I am in doubt whether it is to any purpose, and whether it is not labor and paper lost. This entirely depends upon the degree of reason and reflection which you are master of, or think proper to exert. If you give yourself time to think, and have sense enough to think right, two reflections must necessarily occur to you; the one is, that I have a great deal of experience, and that you have none: the other is, that I am the only man living who cannot have, directly or indirectly, any interest concerning you, but your own. From which two undeniable principles, the obvious and necessary conclusion is, that you ought, for your own sake, to attend to and follow my advice.
DEAR BOY: As often as I write to you (which you know is pretty often), I often wonder if it’s worth the effort or if it’s just a waste of time and paper. This really depends on how much thought and reflection you choose to give it. If you take the time to think and have enough sense to think wisely, two ideas should come to mind; one is that I have a lot of experience, and you have none: the other is that I am the only person who has no personal interest in you except for your well-being. From these two obvious truths, it’s clear that you should, for your own benefit, pay attention to and follow my advice.
If, by the application which I recommend to you, you acquire great knowledge, you alone are the gainer; I pay for it. If you should deserve either a good or a bad character, mine will be exactly what it is now, and will neither be the better in the first case, nor worse in the latter. You alone will be the gainer or the loser.
If you gain a lot of knowledge from the approach I'm suggesting, you'll be the only one benefiting; I'm the one paying for it. If you earn either a good or bad reputation, mine will stay exactly the same and won't improve if it's good or worsen if it's bad. You'll be the only one who gains or loses.
Whatever your pleasures may be, I neither can nor shall envy you them, as old people are sometimes suspected by young people to do; and I shall only lament, if they should prove such as are unbecoming a man of honor, or below a man of sense. But you will be the real sufferer, if they are such. As therefore, it is plain that I can have no other motive than that of affection in whatever I say to you, you ought to look upon me as your best, and, for some years to come, your only friend.
No matter what your pleasures are, I can’t and won’t be jealous of them, as older people are sometimes thought to be by younger ones; I’ll only regret it if they turn out to be unworthy of an honorable man or beneath someone of good sense. But you will be the one really affected if that’s the case. So, it’s clear that my only motive in everything I say to you comes from affection, and you should see me as your best friend and, for the next few years, your only friend.
True friendship requires certain proportions of age and manners, and can never subsist where they are extremely different, except in the relations of parent and child, where affection on one side, and regard on the other, make up the difference. The friendship which you may contract with people of your own age may be sincere, may be warm; but must be, for some time, reciprocally unprofitable, as there can be no experience on either side. The young leading the young, is like the blind leading the blind; (they will both fall into the ditch.) The only sure guide is, he who has often gone the road which you want to go. Let me be that guide; who have gone all roads, and who can consequently point out to you the best. If you ask me why I went any of the bad roads myself, I will answer you very truly, That it was for want of a good guide: ill example invited me one way, and a good guide was wanting to show me a better. But if anybody, capable of advising me, had taken the same pains with me, which I have taken, and will continue to take with you, I should have avoided many follies and inconveniences, which undirected youth run me into. My father was neither desirous nor able to advise me; which is what, I hope, you cannot say of yours. You see that I make use, only of the word advice; because I would much rather have the assent of your reason to my advice, than the submission of your will to my authority. This, I persuade myself, will happen, from that degree of sense which I think you have; and therefore I will go on advising, and with hopes of success.
True friendship requires a certain balance of age and manners, and it can't really exist when those elements are too different, except in parent-child relationships, where love from one side and respect from the other bridge the gap. The friendship you form with people your own age can be genuine and warm, but it will likely be, for a while, mutually unbeneficial since neither person has much experience. Young people leading other young people is like the blind leading the blind—they'll both end up in trouble. The only reliable guide is someone who has already traveled the path you want to take. Let me be that guide, having traveled all sorts of roads, and I can point out the best ones for you. If you ask why I traveled some bad roads myself, I’ll honestly tell you it was because I lacked a good guide; bad examples led me one way, and I didn't have anyone to show me a better path. But if someone capable of advising me had put in the same effort with me that I’m putting into helping you, I would have avoided many mistakes and problems that misguided youth led me into. My father was neither willing nor able to offer advice, which I hope you can’t say about yours. I want to emphasize that I’m using the word advice because I would prefer your understanding and agreement with my advice over simply having you follow my authority. I believe this understanding will come from the level of wisdom I think you possess; therefore, I will continue offering advice with hope for success.
You are now settled for some time at Leipsig; the principal object of your stay there is the knowledge of books and sciences; which if you do not, by attention and application, make yourself master of while you are there, you will be ignorant of them all the rest of your life; and, take my word for it, a life of ignorance is not only a very contemptible, but a very tiresome one. Redouble your attention, then, to Mr. Harte, in your private studies of the ‘Literae Humaniores,’ especially Greek. State your difficulties, whenever you have any; and do not suppress them, either from mistaken shame, lazy indifference, or in order to have done the sooner. Do the same when you are at lectures with Professor Mascow, or any other professor; let nothing pass till you are sure that you understand it thoroughly; and accustom yourself to write down the capital points of what you learn. When you have thus usefully employed your mornings, you may, with a safe conscience, divert yourself in the evenings, and make those evenings very useful too, by passing them in good company, and, by observation and attention, learning as much of the world as Leipsig can teach you. You will observe and imitate the manners of the people of the best fashion there; not that they are (it may be) the best manners in the world; but because they are the best manners of the place where you are, to which a man of sense always conforms. The nature of things (as I have often told you) is always and everywhere the same; but the modes of them vary more or less, in every country; and an easy and genteel conformity to them, or rather the assuming of them at proper times, and in proper places, is what particularly constitutes a man of the world, and a well-bred man.
You're now settled in Leipzig for a while; the main goal of your stay is to learn about books and sciences. If you don't focus and apply yourself to mastering this knowledge while you're there, you'll remain ignorant for the rest of your life. Trust me, a life of ignorance is not only really pitiful but also very exhausting. So, pay extra attention to Mr. Harte in your private studies of ‘Literae Humaniores,’ especially Greek. Bring up any difficulties you have without holding back, whether it's out of misplaced shame, laziness, or just wanting to finish quickly. Do the same when you're in lectures with Professor Mascow or any other professor; don't let anything go by until you're sure you understand it completely. Get into the habit of writing down the key points of what you learn. After you've made good use of your mornings, you can, with a clear conscience, enjoy your evenings. Make those evenings useful too by spending time with good company and, through observation and attention, learning as much about the world as Leipzig can teach you. You'll notice and mimic the manners of the most fashionable people there; not because they are the best manners in the world, but because they are the best manners in your current surroundings, which a sensible person should always adapt to. The nature of things (as I've told you before) is always and everywhere the same, but their expressions vary in every country; smoothly adapting to these expressions, or rather using them at the right times and in appropriate places, is what truly defines a worldly and well-mannered person.
Here is advice enough, I think, and too much, it may be, you will think, for one letter; if you follow it, you will get knowledge, character, and pleasure by it; if you do not, I only lose ‘operam et oleum,’ which, in all events, I do not grudge you.
Here’s plenty of advice, I think, and maybe even too much for one letter. If you follow it, you’ll gain knowledge, build character, and find enjoyment in it; if you don’t, I only lose my effort and time, which I don’t mind, regardless.
I send you, by a person who sets out this day for Leipsig, a small packet from your Mamma, containing some valuable things which you left behind, to which I have added, by way of new-year’s gift, a very pretty tooth-pick case; and, by the way, pray take great care of your teeth, and keep them extremely clean. I have likewise sent you the Greek roots, lately translated into English from the French of the Port Royal. Inform yourself what the Port Royal is. To conclude with a quibble: I hope you will not only feed upon these Greek roots, but likewise digest them perfectly. Adieu.
I'm sending you, with a person who is leaving today for Leipzig, a small package from your mom. It includes some valuable items you left behind, and I've added a nice toothpick case as a New Year’s gift. By the way, please take great care of your teeth and keep them very clean. I've also sent you the Greek roots, which were recently translated into English from the French of Port Royal. Look up what Port Royal is. To end with a play on words: I hope you not only chew on these Greek roots but also digest them well. Goodbye.
LETTER XXI
LONDON, December 15, O. S. 1747
DEAR Boy: There is nothing which I more wish that you should know, and which fewer people do know, than the true use and value of time. It is in everybody’s mouth; but in few people’s practice. Every fool, who slatterns away his whole time in nothings, utters, however, some trite commonplace sentence, of which there are millions, to prove, at once, the value and the fleetness of time. The sun-dials, likewise all over Europe, have some ingenious inscription to that effect; so that nobody squanders away their time, without hearing and seeing, daily, how necessary it is to employ it well, and how irrecoverable it is if lost. But all these admonitions are useless, where there is not a fund of good sense and reason to suggest them, rather than receive them. By the manner in which you now tell me that you employ your time, I flatter myself that you have that fund; that is the fund which will make you rich indeed. I do not, therefore, mean to give you a critical essay upon the use and abuse of time; but I will only give you some hints with regard to the use of one particular period of that long time which, I hope, you have before you; I mean, the next two years. Remember, then, that whatever knowledge you do not solidly lay the foundation of before you are eighteen, you will never be the master of while you breathe. Knowledge is a comfortable and necessary retreat and shelter for us in an advanced age; and if we do not plant it while young, it will give us no shade when we grow old. I neither require nor expect from you great application to books, after you are once thrown out into the great world. I know it is impossible; and it may even, in some cases, be improper; this, therefore, is your time, and your only time, for unwearied and uninterrupted application. If you should sometimes think it a little laborious, consider that labor is the unavoidable fatigue of a necessary journey. The more hours a day you travel, the sooner you will be at your journey’s end. The sooner you are qualified for your liberty, the sooner you shall have it; and your manumission will entirely depend upon the manner in which you employ the intermediate time. I think I offer you a very good bargain, when I promise you, upon my word, that if you will do everything that I would have you do, till you are eighteen, I will do everything that you would have me do ever afterward.
DEAR Boy: There is nothing I wish for you to understand more than the true importance and value of time, which surprisingly few people actually grasp. Everyone talks about it, but not many practice it. Every fool who wastes their time on trivial things still manages to repeat some cliché about how valuable and fleeting time is—there are millions of them. Sun dials across Europe have clever sayings to remind us, so nobody squanders their time without being constantly reminded of its necessity and how it can't be regained once lost. Yet, all these reminders are pointless without a foundation of good sense and reason to truly acknowledge them. From the way you’ve shared how you spend your time, I’m hopeful you possess that foundation; it’s what will truly enrich you. So, I don't intend to write you a detailed essay on using time wisely, but I will give you some tips regarding a specific timeframe that I hope lies ahead of you: the next two years. Remember, any knowledge you fail to build a solid foundation for before turning eighteen will be something you’ll never fully master while you live. Knowledge is a comforting necessity as we grow older; if we don’t cultivate it while we’re young, it won’t provide us with any support in our later years. I don’t expect you to be deeply focused on books once you enter the real world—I know that’s unrealistic and, in some cases, even inappropriate. So this is your time, the only time, for dedicated and uninterrupted study. If you find it a bit tiring at times, just remember that hard work is a necessary part of the journey. The more hours you put in each day, the sooner you’ll reach your destination. The quicker you become ready for your freedom, the sooner you’ll achieve it; your release will depend entirely on how you choose to use this time in between. I believe I’m offering you a great deal when I promise that if you follow my advice until you turn eighteen, I will do everything you ask of me after that.
I knew a gentleman, who was so good a manager of his time, that he would not even lose that small portion of it, which the calls of nature obliged him to pass in the necessary-house; but gradually went through all the Latin poets, in those moments. He bought, for example, a common edition of Horace, of which he tore off gradually a couple of pages, carried them with him to that necessary place, read them first, and then sent them down as a sacrifice to Cloacina: this was so much time fairly gained; and I recommend you to follow his example. It is better than only doing what you cannot help doing at those moments; and it will made any book, which you shall read in that manner, very present in your mind. Books of science, and of a grave sort, must be read with continuity; but there are very many, and even very useful ones, which may be read with advantage by snatches, and unconnectedly; such are all the good Latin poets, except Virgil in his “AEneid”: and such are most of the modern poets, in which you will find many pieces worth reading, that will not take up above seven or eight minutes. Bayle’s, Moreri’s, and other dictionaries, are proper books to take and shut up for the little intervals of (otherwise) idle time, that everybody has in the course of the day, between either their studies or their pleasures. Good night.
I knew a guy who was such a good manager of his time that he wouldn’t even waste those few moments spent in the restroom. Instead, he gradually read through all the Latin poets during those times. For example, he bought a regular edition of Horace, ripped out a couple of pages, took them with him to the bathroom, read them first, and then tossed them away as a sacrifice to Cloacina. That was time well spent, and I suggest you do the same. It's better than just sitting there doing nothing. Plus, it will help you remember any book you read that way. Serious books need to be read continuously, but there are plenty of useful ones that can be read in bits and pieces. This includes most of the good Latin poets, except for Virgil's "Aeneid," and many modern poets, where you'll find great pieces that take only seven or eight minutes to read. Bayle’s, Moreri’s, and other dictionaries are perfect for those small pockets of time that everyone has throughout the day between studies or leisure. Good night.
LETTER XXII
LONDON, December 18, O. S. 1747.
DEAR Boy: As two mails are now due from Holland,
DEAR Boy: As two letters are now expected from Holland,
I have no letters of yours, or Mr. Harte’s to acknowledge; so that this letter is the effect of that ‘scribendi cacoethes,’ which my fears, my hopes, and my doubts, concerning you give me. When I have wrote you a very long letter upon any subject, it is no sooner gone, but I think I have omitted something in it, which might be of use to you; and then I prepare the supplement for the next post: or else some new subject occurs to me, upon which I fancy I can give you some informations, or point out some rules which may be advantageous to you. This sets me to writing again, though God knows whether to any purpose or not; a few years more can only ascertain that. But, whatever my success may be, my anxiety and my care can only be the effects of that tender affection which I have for you; and which you cannot represent to yourself greater than it really is. But do not mistake the nature of that affection, and think it of a kind that you may with impunity abuse. It is not natural affection, there being in reality no such thing; for, if there were, some inward sentiment must necessarily and reciprocally discover the parent to the child, and the child to the parent, without any exterior indications, knowledge, or acquaintance whatsoever; which never happened since the creation of the world, whatever poets, romance, and novel writers, and such sentiment-mongers, may be pleased to say to the contrary. Neither is my affection for you that of a mother, of which the only, or at least the chief objects, are health and life: I wish you them both most heartily; but, at the same time, I confess they are by no means my principal care.
I don’t have any letters from you or Mr. Harte to reply to, so this letter comes from that urge to write that my fears, hopes, and doubts about you create. Whenever I write you a long letter about any topic, as soon as I send it, I worry that I’ve left something out that could help you; then I get ready to add that in for the next mail. Or I think of something new to tell you that I believe might provide some useful information or advice that could benefit you. This makes me start writing again, though who knows if it will really help; we’ll only find out in a few more years. But no matter how it turns out, my worry and care are just expressions of the deep affection I have for you—a kind that you can’t imagine is greater than it truly is. However, please don’t misinterpret the nature of that affection and think it’s something you can take for granted. It’s not a natural affection, as there really is no such thing; because if there were, some instinctual feeling would naturally bond the parent to the child and the child to the parent without any outside signs, knowledge, or familiarity at all, which has never happened since the world began, despite what poets, romance writers, and those who trade in sentiment might say. My affection for you isn’t that of a mother, where the main focus is on health and life. I truly wish you both of those, but I also admit they are not my main concern.
My object is to have you fit to live; which, if you are not, I do not desire that you should live at all. My affection for you then is, and only will be, proportioned to your merit; which is the only affection that one rational being ought to have for another. Hitherto I have discovered nothing wrong in your heart, or your head: on the contrary I think I see sense in the one, and sentiments in the other. This persuasion is the only motive of my present affection; which will either increase or diminish, according to your merit or demerit. If you have the knowledge, the honor, and probity, which you may have, the marks and warmth of my affection shall amply reward them; but if you have them not, my aversion and indignation will rise in the same proportion; and, in that case, remember, that I am under no further obligation, than to give you the necessary means of subsisting. If ever we quarrel, do not expect or depend upon any weakness in my nature, for a reconciliation, as children frequently do, and often meet with, from silly parents; I have no such weakness about me: and, as I will never quarrel with you but upon some essential point; if once we quarrel, I will never forgive. But I hope and believe, that this declaration (for it is no threat) will prove unnecessary. You are no stranger to the principles of virtue; and, surely, whoever knows virtue must love it. As for knowledge, you have already enough of it, to engage you to acquire more. The ignorant only, either despise it, or think that they have enough: those who have the most are always the most desirous to have more, and know that the most they can have is, alas! but too little.
My goal is to make you capable of living; if you're not, then I don't want you to live at all. My feelings for you will only match your worth, which is the only kind of feelings one rational person should have for another. Until now, I haven't seen anything wrong in your heart or your mind: on the contrary, I believe I see intelligence in one and good feelings in the other. This belief is the only reason for my current feelings, which will either grow or shrink based on your worth or flaws. If you possess the knowledge, honor, and integrity that you could have, you will be richly rewarded with my affection; however, if you lack those qualities, my dislike and disappointment will grow just as much. Remember, in that case, I'm only obligated to ensure you have the means to survive. If we ever argue, don't expect or rely on any weakness in my character for reconciliation, like kids often do with foolish parents; I don't have that kind of weakness. And since I will only argue with you over something truly significant, if we do argue, I won’t forgive easily. But I hope and believe that this statement—which is not a threat—will be unnecessary. You know the principles of virtue well; surely, anyone who understands virtue must love it. As for knowledge, you already have enough to motivate you to learn more. Only the ignorant either look down on knowledge or think they know enough: those who know the most always want to learn more and realize that what they can know is, unfortunately, still too little.
Reconsider, from time to time, and retain the friendly advice which I send you. The advantage will be all your own.
Reassess every now and then, and keep the friendly advice I send you. The benefit will be entirely yours.
LETTER XXIII
LONDON, December 29, O. S. 1747
DEAR BOY: I have received two letters from you of the 17th and 22d, N. S., by the last of which I find that some of mine to you must have miscarried; for I have never been above two posts without writing to you or to Mr. Harte, and even very long letters. I have also received a letter from Mr. Harte, which gives me great satisfaction: it is full of your praises; and he answers for you, that, in two years more, you will deserve your manumission, and be fit to go into the world, upon a footing that will do you honor, and give me pleasure.
DEAR BOY: I’ve got two letters from you dated the 17th and 22nd of this month, and from the last one, it seems that some of my letters to you must have gotten lost. I’ve never gone more than two postal deliveries without writing to you or Mr. Harte, and I’ve sent even really long letters. I also received a letter from Mr. Harte, which makes me very happy: it’s full of your praises, and he assures me that in two more years, you’ll be deserving of your freedom and ready to enter the world in a way that will honor you and bring me joy.
I thank you for your offer of the new edition of ‘Adamus Adami,’ but I do not want it, having a good edition of it at present. When you have read that, you will do well to follow it with Pere Bougeant’s ‘Histoire du Traite de Munster,’ in two volumes quarto; which contains many important anecdotes concerning that famous treaty, that are not in Adamus Adami.
I appreciate your offer of the new edition of ‘Adamus Adami,’ but I’m going to pass since I already have a good copy. Once you've finished that, I recommend following it up with Pere Bougeant’s ‘Histoire du Traite de Munster,’ in two quarto volumes; it includes many important stories about that famous treaty that aren’t found in Adamus Adami.
You tell me that your lectures upon the ‘Jus Publicum’ will be ended at Easter; but then I hope that Monsieur Mascow will begin them again; for I would not have you discontinue that study one day while you are at Leipsig. I suppose that Monsieur Mascow will likewise give you lectures upon the ‘Instrumentum Pacis,’ and upon the capitulations of the late emperors. Your German will go on of course; and I take it for granted that your stay at Leipsig will make you a perfect master of that language, both as to speaking and writing; for remember, that knowing any language imperfectly, is very little better than not knowing it at all: people being as unwilling to speak in a language which they do not possess thoroughly, as others are to hear them. Your thoughts are cramped, and appear to great disadvantage, in any language of which you are not perfect master. Let modern history share part of your time, and that always accompanied with the maps of the places in question; geography and history are very imperfect separately, and, to be useful, must be joined.
You mentioned that your lectures on ‘Jus Publicum’ will wrap up at Easter, but I hope Monsieur Mascow will continue them. I wouldn't want you to stop that study even for a day while you're in Leipzig. I assume Monsieur Mascow will also cover the ‘Instrumentum Pacis’ and the treaties of the recent emperors. Your German studies will continue, of course, and I expect that your time in Leipzig will make you completely fluent in both speaking and writing. Remember, knowing any language poorly is hardly better than not knowing it at all; people tend to avoid speaking a language they don’t fully grasp, just as others dislike hearing it. Your thoughts are limited and come across poorly in any language you don't master completely. Make sure to dedicate some time to modern history, always paired with maps of the relevant areas; geography and history are incomplete on their own and need to be combined to be truly useful.
Go to the Duchess of Courland’s as often as she and your leisure will permit. The company of women of fashion will improve your manners, though not your understanding; and that complaisance and politeness, which are so useful in men’s company, can only be acquired in women’s.
Visit the Duchess of Courland as often as you can. Spending time with fashionable women will enhance your manners, even if it doesn't boost your intellect; that courtesy and politeness that's so helpful in men's company can only be learned around women.
Remember always, what I have told you a thousand times, that all the talents in the world will want all their lustre, and some part of their use too, if they are not adorned with that easy good-breeding, that engaging manner, and those graces, which seduce and prepossess people in your favor at first sight. A proper care of your person is by no means to be neglected; always extremely clean; upon proper occasions fine. Your carriage genteel, and your motions graceful. Take particular care of your manner and address, when you present yourself in company. Let them be respectful without meanness, easy without too much familiarity, genteel without affectation, and insinuating without any seeming art or design.
Always remember what I've told you a thousand times: all the talents in the world will lose their shine and some of their value if they aren't complemented by easy charm, a friendly demeanor, and those qualities that make people warm up to you at first glance. Taking care of your appearance is essential; stay very clean and, when appropriate, dress nicely. Carry yourself with grace and move elegantly. Pay special attention to your manner and approach when you're in a group. They should be respectful without being overly humble, casual without being too familiar, stylish without trying too hard, and inviting without any apparent effort or plan.
You need not send me any more extracts of the German constitution; which, by the course of your present studies, I know you must soon be acquainted with; but I would now rather that your letters should be a sort of journal of your own life. As, for instance, what company you keep, what new acquaintances you make, what your pleasures are; with your own reflections upon the whole: likewise what Greek and Latin books you read and understand. Adieu!
You don't need to send me any more excerpts from the German constitution; I'm sure you'll be familiar with it soon enough due to your current studies. Instead, I would prefer that your letters be more like a journal of your own life. For example, tell me about the company you keep, the new people you meet, what you enjoy doing, along with your thoughts on all of this. Also, let me know what Greek and Latin books you're reading and understanding. Goodbye!
1748
LETTER XXIV
LETTER 24
January 2, O. S. 1748.
January 2, 1748.
DEAR BOY: I am edified with the allotment of your time at Leipsig; which is so well employed from morning till night, that a fool would say you had none left for yourself; whereas, I am sure you have sense enough to know, that such a right use of your time is having it all to yourself; nay, it is even more, for it is laying it out to immense interest, which, in a very few years, will amount to a prodigious capital.
DEAR BOY: I'm pleased with how you spend your time in Leipzig; you’re so busy from morning till night that someone might think you’ve got no time for yourself. But I know you’re smart enough to realize that using your time well is actually all about having it for yourself. In fact, it’s even better, because you’re investing it wisely, and in just a few years, it will grow into a significant asset.
Though twelve of your fourteen ‘Commensaux’ may not be the liveliest people in the world, and may want (as I easily conceive that they do) ‘le ton de la bonne campagnie, et les graces’, which I wish you, yet pray take care not to express any contempt, or throw out any ridicule; which I can assure you, is not more contrary to good manners than to good sense: but endeavor rather to get all the good you can out of them; and something or other is to be got out of everybody. They will, at least, improve you in the German language; and, as they come from different countries, you may put them upon subjects, concerning which they must necessarily be able to give you some useful informations, let them be ever so dull or disagreeable in general: they will know something, at least, of the laws, customs, government, and considerable families of their respective countries; all which are better known than not, and consequently worth inquiring into. There is hardly any body good for every thing, and there is scarcely any body who is absolutely good for nothing. A good chemist will extract some spirit or other out of every substance; and a man of parts will, by his dexterity and management, elicit something worth knowing out of every being he converses with.
Even though twelve of your fourteen 'Commensaux' might not be the most exciting people in the world, and likely desire (as I can easily imagine they do) 'the tone of good company and grace,' which I wish for you, please be careful not to show any contempt or make fun of them. I assure you, that's just as much against good manners as it is good sense. Instead, try to get as much good as you can from them; there's always something to learn from everyone. At the very least, they'll help you improve your German. Since they come from different countries, you can engage them in topics where they must have some useful insights, no matter how boring or unpleasant they might generally be. They’ll know something about the laws, customs, government, and notable families of their respective countries—all of which is more useful to know than not. There’s hardly anyone who’s good at everything, and there’s barely anyone who’s completely useless. A good chemist can draw out some essence from every substance, and a skilled person can, through their talent and approach, uncover something valuable from every conversation they have.
As you have been introduced to the Duchess of Courland, pray go there as often as ever your more necessary occupations will allow you. I am told she is extremely well bred, and has parts. Now, though I would not recommend to you, to go into women’s company in search of solid knowledge, or judgment, yet it has its use in other respects; for it certainly polishes the manners, and gives ‘une certaine tournure’, which is very necessary in the course of the world; and which Englishmen have generally less of than any people in the world.
Since you've been introduced to the Duchess of Courland, please visit her as often as your other commitments allow. I've heard she has great manners and is quite clever. While I wouldn't suggest looking for solid knowledge or judgment in the company of women, it does have its benefits in other ways; it definitely refines your manners and gives you a certain flair, which is very important in life. Englishmen, in general, tend to have less of this than any other people in the world.
I cannot say that your suppers are luxurious, but you must own they are solid; and a quart of soup, and two pounds of potatoes, will enable you to pass the night without great impatience for your breakfast next morning. One part of your supper (the potatoes) is the constant diet of my old friends and countrymen,—[Lord Chesterfield, from the time he was appointed Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, 1775, used always to call the Irish his countrymen.]—the Irish, who are the healthiest and the strongest bodies of men that I know in Europe.
I can't say your dinners are fancy, but you have to admit they’re filling; a quart of soup and two pounds of potatoes will help you get through the night without too much waiting for breakfast in the morning. One part of your dinner (the potatoes) is the regular food of my old friends and fellow countrymen—[Lord Chesterfield, since he became Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in 1775, always referred to the Irish as his countrymen.]—the Irish, who are the healthiest and strongest men I know in Europe.
As I believe that many of my letters to you and to Mr. Harte have miscarried, as well as some of yours and his to me; particularly one of his from Leipsig, to which he refers in a subsequent one, and which I never received; I would have you, for the future, acknowledge the dates of all the letters which either of you shall receive from me; and I will do the same on my part.
As I think that many of my letters to you and Mr. Harte have been lost, along with some of yours and his to me—especially one from Leipsig that he mentions in a later letter, which I never got—I'd like you both to confirm the dates of all the letters you receive from me, and I'll do the same for you.
That which I received by the last mail, from you, was of the 25th November, N. S.; the mail before that brought me yours, of which I have forgot the date, but which inclosed one to Lady Chesterfield: she will answer it soon, and, in the mean time, thanks you for it.
What I got from you in the last mail was dated November 25th, New Style. The mail before that brought me your letter, though I’ve forgotten the date, but it included one for Lady Chesterfield: she will respond to it soon, and in the meantime, thanks you for it.
My disorder was only a very great cold, of which I am entirely recovered. You shall not complain for want of accounts from Mr. Grevenkop, who will frequently write you whatever passes here, in the German language and character; which will improve you in both. Adieu.
My illness was just a really bad cold, and I'm completely better now. You won't have to complain about not hearing from Mr. Grevenkop, who will often write to you about what's happening here, in German; it will help you improve in both. Goodbye.
LETTER XXV
LONDON, January 15, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I willingly accept the new-year’s gift which you promise me for next year; and the more valuable you make it, the more thankful I shall be. That depends entirely upon you; and therefore I hope to be presented, every year, with a new edition of you, more correct than the former, and considerably enlarged and amended.
DEAR BOY: I gladly accept the new year's gift that you promised me for next year; and the more valuable you make it, the more grateful I will be. That totally depends on you, so I hope to receive a new version of you every year, one that’s more accurate than the last and significantly improved and expanded.
Since you do not care to be an assessor of the imperial chamber, and that you desire an establishment in England; what do you think of being Greek Professor at one of our universities? It is a very pretty sinecure, and requires very little knowledge (much less than, I hope, you have already) of that language. If you do not approve of this, I am at a loss to know what else to propose to you; and therefore desire that you will inform me what sort of destination you propose for yourself; for it is now time to fix it, and to take our measures accordingly. Mr. Harte tells me that you set up for a—————; if so, I presume it is in the view of succeeding me in my office;—[A secretary of state.]—which I will very willingly resign to you, whenever you shall call upon me for it. But, if you intend to be the————, or the—————-, there are some trifling circumstances upon which you should previously take your resolution. The first of which is, to be fit for it: and then, in order to be so, make yourself master of ancient and, modern history, and languages. To know perfectly the constitution, and form of government of every nation; the growth and the decline of ancient and modern empires; and to trace out and reflect upon the causes of both. To know the strength, the riches, and the commerce of every country. These little things, trifling as they may seem, are yet very necessary for a politician to know; and which therefore, I presume, you will condescend to apply yourself to. There are some additional qualifications necessary, in the practical part of business, which may deserve some consideration in your leisure moments; such as, an absolute command of your temper, so as not to be provoked to passion, upon any account; patience, to hear frivolous, impertinent, and unreasonable applications; with address enough to refuse, without offending, or, by your manner of granting, to double the obligation; dexterity enough to conceal a truth without telling a lie; sagacity enough to read other people’s countenances; and serenity enough not to let them discover anything by yours; a seeming frankness with a real reserve. These are the rudiments of a politician; the world must be your grammar.
Since you’re not interested in being an assessor for the imperial chamber and you want to settle in England, what do you think about becoming a Greek Professor at one of our universities? It’s a nice and easy position that requires very little knowledge of the language (much less than I hope you already have). If you don’t like this idea, I’m not sure what else to suggest, so please let me know what kind of path you have in mind for yourself; it’s time to decide and plan accordingly. Mr. Harte mentioned that you’re aiming for a—————; if that’s the case, I assume it’s to succeed me in my job—[A secretary of state.]—which I would gladly hand over to you whenever you want it. However, if you plan to be the———— or the—————-, there are some minor details you should figure out first. The first is to be qualified for it: to do this, you should master ancient and modern history and languages. You need to fully understand the constitution and form of government of every nation, the rise and fall of ancient and modern empires, and the reasons behind both. You should also know the strengths, wealth, and commerce of every country. These details, trivial as they may seem, are essential for a politician to grasp; so I assume you will take the time to focus on them. There are also some additional skills needed in practical matters that you might want to consider during your free time, such as controlling your temper so you’re not easily provoked, having the patience to listen to pointless, irrelevant, and unreasonable requests, and having the finesse to decline without offending, or to make your acceptance feel like a much greater favor. You should also be skilled at obscuring the truth without outright lying, perceptive enough to read others’ expressions, and composed enough that they can’t read yours; showing an appearance of openness while keeping a real reserve. These are the basics of being a politician; the world should be your guide.
Three mails are now due from Holland; so that I have no letters from you to acknowledge. I therefore conclude with recommending myself to your favor and protection when you succeed. Yours.
Three letters are now expected from Holland, so I don’t have any letters from you to acknowledge. I will conclude by asking for your support and protection when you succeed. Yours.
LETTER XXVI
LONDON, January 29, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I find, by Mr. Harte’s last letter, that many of my letters to you and him, have been frozen up on their way to Leipsig; the thaw has, I suppose, by this time, set them at liberty to pursue their journey to you, and you will receive a glut of them at once. Hudibras alludes, in this verse,
DEAR BOY: From Mr. Harte’s latest letter, I’ve learned that several of my letters to you and him got stuck on their way to Leipzig; I assume that by now, the thaw has let them continue their journey to you, and you’ll be getting a whole bunch of them at once. Hudibras refers to this in this verse,
“Like words congealed in northern air,”
“Like words frozen in the northern air,”
to a vulgar notion, that in Greenland words were frozen in their utterance; and that upon a thaw, a very mixed conversation was heard in the air, of all those words set at liberty. This conversation was, I presume, too various and extensive to be much attended to: and may not that be the case of half a dozen of my long letters, when you receive them all at once? I think that I can, eventually, answer that question, thus: If you consider my letters in their true light, as conveying to you the advice of a friend, who sincerely wishes your happiness, and desires to promote your pleasure, you will both read and attend to them; but, if you consider them in their opposite, and very false light, as the dictates of a morose and sermonizing father, I am sure they will be not only unattended to, but unread. Which is the case, you can best tell me. Advice is seldom welcome; and those who want it the most always like it the least. I hope that your want of experience, of which you must be conscious, will convince you, that you want advice; and that your good sense will incline you to follow it.
To a crude idea that in Greenland, words were frozen in their expression; and that during a thaw, a chaotic conversation filled the air, freeing all those words. This conversation was likely too varied and extensive to be given much attention: and could that not be the situation with a bunch of my long letters when you get them all at once? I think I can eventually answer that question like this: If you see my letters for what they truly are, as the advice of a friend who genuinely wants your happiness and aims to uplift your spirits, you will read them and pay attention; but if you view them in the opposite, and completely wrong way, as the commands of a grumpy and preachy father, I’m sure they will not only be ignored but also unread. You can best tell me which it is. Advice is rarely welcome; and those who need it most often appreciate it the least. I hope your awareness of your lack of experience will make you realize that you do need advice; and that your good judgment will lead you to follow it.
Tell me how you pass your leisure hours at Leipsig; I know you have not many; and I have too good an opinion of you to think, that, at this age, you would desire more. Have you assemblies, or public spectacles? and of what kind are they? Whatever they are, see them all; seeing everything, is the only way not to admire anything too much.
Tell me how you spend your free time in Leipzig; I know you don’t have a lot of it, and I have too much respect for you to think that at your age you’d want more. Do you have gatherings or public events? What are they like? Whatever they are, make sure to check them all out; experiencing everything is the only way not to get overly attached to anything.
If you ever take up little tale-books, to amuse you by snatches, I will recommend two French books, which I have already mentioned; they will entertain you, and not without some use to your mind and your manners. One is, ‘La Maniere de bien penser dans les Ouvrages d’Esprit’, written by Pere Bouhours; I believe you read it once in England, with Monsieur Coderc; but I think that you will do well to read it again, as I know of no book that will form your taste better. The other is, ‘L’Art de plaire dans la Conversation’, by the Abbe de Bellegarde, and is by no means useless, though I will not pretend to say, that the art of pleasing can be reduced to a receipt; if it could, I am sure that receipt would be worth purchasing at any price. Good sense, and good nature, are the principal ingredients; and your own observation, and the good advice of others, must give the right color and taste to it. Adieu! I shall always love you as you shall deserve.
If you ever pick up some light reading, I recommend two French books I've mentioned before; they’ll entertain you and also be beneficial for your mind and manners. One is 'La Maniere de bien penser dans les Ouvrages d’Esprit' by Pere Bouhours; I believe you read it once in England with Monsieur Coderc, but I think it would be good for you to read it again, as I know of no book that shapes your taste better. The other is 'L’Art de plaire dans la Conversation' by the Abbe de Bellegarde, and it’s definitely useful, though I won’t pretend that the art of pleasing can be simplified into a recipe; if it could, I’m sure it would be worth any price. Common sense and kindness are the key ingredients, and your own experience along with helpful advice from others should give it the right flavor. Goodbye! I will always care for you as you deserve.
LETTER XXVII
LONDON, February 9, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: You will receive this letter, not from a Secretary of State but from a private man; for whom, at his time of life, quiet was as fit, and as necessary, as labor and activity are for you at your age, and for many years yet to come. I resigned the seals, last Saturday, to the King; who parted with me most graciously, and (I may add, for he said so himself) with regret. As I retire from hurry to quiet, and to enjoy, at my ease, the comforts of private and social life, you will easily imagine that I have no thoughts of opposition, or meddling with business. ‘Otium cum dignitate’ is my object. The former I now enjoy; and I hope that my conduct and character entitle me to some share of the latter. In short, I am now happy: and I found that I could not be so in my former public situation.
DEAR BOY: You will get this letter, not from a Secretary of State but from a regular person; for whom, at this point in life, rest is just as appropriate and necessary as work and activity are for you at your age, and for many years ahead. I handed over the seals to the King last Saturday; he was very gracious about it and (I can add, since he said it himself) sad to see me go. As I move from a hectic life to a quieter one, to enjoy the comforts of a private and social life at my own pace, you can easily guess that I have no plans for opposition or involvement in business affairs. ‘Otium cum dignitate’ is my goal. I’m enjoying the former now, and I hope my behavior and character deserve me some of the latter. In short, I’m happy now: and I realized that I couldn’t be happy in my previous public role.
As I like your correspondence better than that of all the kings, princes, and ministers, in Europe, I shall now have leisure to carry it on more regularly. My letters to you will be written, I am sure, by me, and, I hope, read by you, with pleasure; which, I believe, seldom happens, reciprocally, to letters written from and to a secretary’s office.
Since I enjoy your letters more than those from all the kings, princes, and ministers in Europe, I will now have the time to correspond more regularly. I’m sure my letters to you will be written by me and, I hope, read by you with pleasure; which I believe rarely happens with correspondence to and from a secretary’s office.
Do not apprehend that my retirement from business may be a hindrance to your advancement in it, at a proper time: on the contrary, it will promote it; for, having nothing to ask for myself, I shall have the better title to ask for you. But you have still a surer way than this of rising, and which is wholly in your own power. Make yourself necessary; which, with your natural parts, you may, by application, do. We are in general, in England, ignorant of foreign affairs: and of the interests, views, pretensions, and policy of other courts. That part of knowledge never enters into our thoughts, nor makes part of our education; for which reason, we have fewer proper subjects for foreign commissions, than any other country in Europe; and, when foreign affairs happen to be debated in Parliament, it is incredible with how much ignorance. The harvest of foreign affairs being then so great, and the laborers so few, if you make yourself master of them, you will make yourself necessary; first as a foreign, and then as a domestic minister for that department.
Don't worry that my retirement from business might hold back your progress at the right time. In fact, it will help you move ahead because, with nothing to ask for myself, I’ll be in a better position to advocate for you. However, you have a more reliable way to advance, and it is entirely in your hands. Make yourself indispensable, which, with your natural talents, you can achieve through hard work. Generally, in England, we are not well-informed about foreign affairs, including the interests, goals, claims, and policies of other courts. That kind of knowledge rarely crosses our minds or is part of our education. As a result, we have fewer qualified candidates for foreign commissions than any other country in Europe, and when foreign affairs are discussed in Parliament, it's astonishing how little is understood. Given that the demand for expertise in foreign affairs is so high and the supply so low, if you become proficient in this area, you will become essential, first as a foreign and then as a domestic minister for that field.
I am extremely well pleased with the account which you give me of the allotment of your time. Do but go on so, for two years longer, and I will ask no more of you. Your labors will be their own reward; but if you desire any other, that I can add, you may depend upon it.
I’m very happy with the way you’re managing your time. Just keep it up for two more years, and I won’t ask anything more from you. Your hard work will pay off on its own, but if you want any additional support from me, you can count on it.
I am glad that you perceive the indecency and turpitude of those of your ‘Commensaux’, who disgrace and foul themselves with dirty w——s and scoundrel gamesters. And the light in which, I am sure, you see all reasonable and decent people consider them, will be a good warning to you. Adieu.
I'm glad you see the indecency and disgusting behavior of your 'Commensaux', who shame themselves with dirty women and dishonest gamblers. The way you view them, I’m sure, aligns with how all reasonable and decent people see them, and that should serve as a good warning for you. Goodbye.
LETTER XXVIII
LONDON, February 13, O. S. 1748
DEAR BOY: your last letter gave me a very satisfactory account of your manner of employing your time at Leipsig. Go on so but for two years more, and, I promise you, that you will outgo all the people of your age and time. I thank you for your explanation of the ‘Schriftsassen’, and ‘Amptsassen’; and pray let me know the meaning of the ‘Landsassen’. I am very willing that you should take a Saxon servant, who speaks nothing but German, which will be a sure way of keeping up your German, after you leave Germany. But then, I would neither have that man, nor him whom you have already, put out of livery; which makes them both impertinent and useless. I am sure, that as soon as you shall have taken the other servant, your present man will press extremely to be out of livery, and valet de chambre; which is as much as to say, that he will curl your hair and shave you, but not condescend to do anything else. I therefore advise you, never to have a servant out of livery; and, though you may not always think proper to carry the servant who dresses you abroad in the rain and dirt, behind a coach or before a chair, yet keep it in your power to do so, if you please, by keeping him in livery.
DEAR BOY: your last letter gave me a very satisfactory account of how you're spending your time in Leipzig. Keep it up for two more years, and I promise you'll surpass everyone your age. I appreciate your explanation of the ‘Schriftsassen’ and ‘Amptsassen’; please let me know the meaning of ‘Landsassen’. I'm totally okay with you hiring a Saxon servant who speaks only German, as it will help you maintain your German after you leave. However, I suggest you not let that man or the one you already have go out of livery, which makes them both rude and useless. I'm sure that as soon as you bring on the new servant, your current one will really want to be out of livery and act like your personal valet, which basically means he’ll style your hair and shave you but won’t do anything else. So, I advise you to never have a servant out of livery; and while you might not always feel it's necessary to have the servant who dresses you follow you around in the rain and dirt, keep the option open by ensuring he stays in livery.
I have seen Monsieur and Madame Flemming, who gave me a very good account of you, and of your manners, which to tell you the plain truth, were what I doubted of the most. She told me, that you were easy, and not ashamed: which is a great deal for an Englishman at your age.
I’ve met Monsieur and Madame Flemming, who gave me a really positive impression of you and your behavior, which, to be honest, I was most uncertain about. She mentioned that you’re relaxed and not self-conscious, which is impressive for an Englishman your age.
I set out for Bath to-morrow, for a month; only to be better than well, and enjoy, in, quiet, the liberty which I have acquired by the resignation of the seals. You shall hear from me more at large from thence; and now good night to you.
I’m heading to Bath tomorrow for a month, just to feel even better and enjoy the freedom I’ve gained by giving up my position. I’ll update you more from there; for now, good night!
LETTER XXIX
BATH, February 18, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: The first use that I made of my liberty was to come here, where I arrived yesterday. My health, though not fundamentally bad yet, for want of proper attention of late, wanted some repairs, which these waters never fail giving it. I shall drink them a month, and return to London, there to enjoy the comforts of social life, instead of groaning under the load of business. I have given the description of the life that I propose to lead for the future, in this motto, which I have put up in the frize of my library in my new house:—
DEAR BOY: The first thing I did with my freedom was come here, where I arrived yesterday. My health isn’t fundamentally bad yet, but has needed some fixing lately due to a lack of proper care, which these waters always help with. I plan to drink them for a month and then return to London to enjoy the comforts of social life instead of struggling under a heavy workload. I’ve described the life I plan to lead in the motto I've put up in the frieze of my library in my new house:—
Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno, et inertibus horis
Ducere sollicitae jucunda oblivia vitas.
Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno, et inertibus horis
Ducere sollicitae jucunda oblivia vitas.I must observe to you upon this occasion, that the uninterrupted satisfaction which I expect to find in that library, will be chiefly owing to my having employed some part of my life well at your age. I wish I had employed it better, and my satisfaction would now be complete; but, however, I planted while young, that degree of knowledge which is now my refuge and my shelter. Make your plantations still more extensive; they will more than pay you for your trouble. I do not regret the time that I passed in pleasures; they were seasonable; they were the pleasures of youth, and I enjoyed them while young. If I had not, I should probably have overvalued them now, as we are very apt to do what we do not know; but, knowing them as I do, I know their real value, and how much they are generally overrated. Nor do I regret the time that I have passed in business, for the same reason; those who see only the outside of it, imagine it has hidden charms, which they pant after; and nothing but acquaintance can undeceive them. I, who have been behind the scenes, both of pleasure and business, and have seen all the springs and pullies of those decorations which astonish and dazzle the audience, retire, not only without regret, but with contentment and satisfaction. But what I do, and ever shall regret, is the time which, while young, I lost in mere idleness, and in doing nothing. This is the common effect of the inconsideracy of youth, against which I beg you will be most carefully upon your guard. The value of moments, when cast up, is immense, if well employed; if thrown away, their loss is irrecoverable. Every moment may be put to some use, and that with much more pleasure, than if unemployed. Do not imagine, that by the employment of time, I mean an uninterrupted application to serious studies. No; pleasures are, at proper times, both as necessary and as useful; they fashion and form you for the world; they teach you characters, and show you the human heart in its unguarded minutes. But then remember to make that use of them. I have known many people, from laziness of mind, go through both pleasure and business with equal inattention; neither enjoying the one, nor doing the other; thinking themselves men of pleasure, because they were mingled with those who were, and men of business, because they had business to do, though they did not do it. Whatever you do, do it to the purpose; do it thoroughly, not superficially. ‘Approfondissez’: go to the bottom of things. Any thing half done or half known, is, in my mind, neither done nor known at all. Nay worse, it often misleads. There is hardly any place or any company, where you may not gain knowledge, if you please; almost everybody knows some one thing, and is glad to talk upon that one thing. Seek and you will find, in this world as well as in the next. See everything; inquire into everything; and you may excuse your curiosity, and the questions you ask which otherwise might be thought impertinent, by your manner of asking them; for most things depend a great deal upon the manner. As, for example, I AM AFRAID THAT I AM VERY TROUBLESOME WITH MY QUESTIONS; BUT NOBODY CAN INFORM ME SO WELL AS YOU; or something of that kind.
I want to point out that the ongoing satisfaction I expect to find in that library will mainly be due to how I spent part of my life at your age. I wish I had spent it better, and my satisfaction would be complete now; however, I did invest in my knowledge while I was young, and that has become my refuge and protection. Expand your own learning; it will pay off more than you think. I don’t regret the time I spent on pleasures; they were timely, enjoyed in youth. If I hadn't experienced them, I might have overrated them now, as we tend to do with things we don't know; but knowing them as I do, I understand their true worth and how often they are exaggerated. I don’t regret my time spent in business for the same reason; those who only see the surface think it holds hidden delights that they crave, but only familiarity can set them straight. Having been behind the scenes of both pleasure and business, and having seen all the mechanisms that create the dazzling effects, I walk away not only without regret but with happiness and fulfillment. What I do regret is the time lost in idleness and doing nothing when I was young. This is a common mistake of youth, and I urge you to be on guard against it. The value of moments, when tallied up, can be immense if used well; if wasted, their loss can’t be recovered. Every moment can be put to some use, and that can be much more enjoyable than being unoccupied. Don’t think that by spending time, I mean constant focus on serious study. No, pleasures are also necessary and useful at the right times; they shape you for the world and teach you about human behavior in unguarded moments. Just remember to make the most of them. I’ve seen many people, due to laziness, go through both pleasure and business without paying attention; they neither enjoy one nor accomplish the other, thinking they’re indulging in pleasure just because they’re with those who do, and involvement in business just because they have tasks, even if they don’t follow through. Whatever you do, do it with purpose; do it well, not just superficially. Dive deep: understand things thoroughly. Anything done or known partially isn’t done or known at all, and can often lead you astray. There is hardly a place or group where you can't gain knowledge, if you're willing; almost everyone knows something and likes to talk about it. Seek, and you will find, in this life as well as the next. Explore everything; ask about everything, and you can justify your curiosity and the questions that might seem intrusive by how you ask them, since the way you ask matters a lot. For example, you could say, "I hope I'm not bothering you with my questions; no one can explain things to me better than you," or something similar.
Now that you are in a Lutheran country, go to their churches, and observe the manner of their public worship; attend to their ceremonies, and inquire the meaning and intention of everyone of them. And, as you will soon understand German well enough, attend to their sermons, and observe their manner of preaching. Inform yourself of their church government: whether it resides in the sovereign, or in consistories and synods. Whence arises the maintenance of their clergy; whether from tithes, as in England, or from voluntary contributions, or from pensions from the state. Do the same thing when you are in Roman Catholic countries; go to their churches, see all their ceremonies: ask the meaning of them, get the terms explained to you. As, for instance, Prime, Tierce, Sexte, Nones, Matins, Angelus, High Mass, Vespers, Complines, etc. Inform yourself of their several religious orders, their founders, their rules, their vows, their habits, their revenues, etc. But, when you frequent places of public worship, as I would have you go to all the different ones you meet with, remember, that however erroneous, they are none of them objects of laughter and ridicule. Honest error is to be pitied, not ridiculed. The object of all the public worships in the world is the same; it is that great eternal Being who created everything. The different manners of worship are by no means subjects of ridicule. Each sect thinks its own is the best; and I know no infallible judge in this world, to decide which is the best. Make the same inquiries, wherever you are, concerning the revenues, the military establishment, the trade, the commerce, and the police of every country. And you would do well to keep a blank paper book, which the Germans call an ALBUM; and there, instead of desiring, as they do, every fool they meet with to scribble something, write down all these things as soon as they come to your knowledge from good authorities.
Now that you're in a Lutheran country, visit their churches and observe how they worship. Pay attention to their rituals and ask about the meaning and purpose of each one. Since you'll soon understand German well enough, listen to their sermons and notice their preaching style. Find out about their church governance: does it lie with the ruler, or with consistories and synods? How do they support their clergy—through tithes like in England, voluntary contributions, or state pensions? Do the same when you’re in Roman Catholic countries; visit their churches, see their rituals, and ask what they mean. Get explanations for terms like Prime, Tierce, Sexte, Nones, Matins, Angelus, High Mass, Vespers, Complines, etc. Learn about their various religious orders—their founders, rules, vows, clothing, finances, etc. But when you attend different places of worship, which I encourage you to do, remember that, despite any flaws, they’re not objects of mockery. Honest mistakes deserve sympathy, not scorn. The purpose of all public worship around the world is the same: it's directed towards that great eternal Being who created everything. The different styles of worship aren’t subjects for ridicule. Each denomination believes theirs is the best, and there’s no infallible judge in this world to determine which truly is. Make similar inquiries wherever you go about the finances, military structure, trade, commerce, and law enforcement of each country. It would also be wise to keep a notebook, which the Germans call an ALBUM, and instead of asking every random person you meet to write something in it, jot down all these things as soon as you learn them from reliable sources.
I had almost forgotten one thing, which I would recommend as an object for your curiosity and information, that is, the administration of justice; which, as it is always carried on in open court, you may, and I would have you, go and see it with attention and inquiry.
I had almost forgotten to mention one thing that I think you should check out for your curiosity and knowledge: the administration of justice. Since it's always conducted in open court, I encourage you to go and observe it with interest and questions.
I have now but one anxiety left, which is concerning you. I would have you be, what I know nobody is—perfect. As that is impossible, I would have you as near perfection as possible. I know nobody in a fairer way toward it than yourself, if you please. Never were so much pains taken for anybody’s education as for yours; and never had anybody those opportunities of knowledge and improvement which you, have had, and still have, I hope, I wish, I doubt, and fear alternately. This only I am sure of, that you will prove either the greatest pain or the greatest pleasure of, Yours.
I only have one worry left, and that’s about you. I want you to be—what I know nobody can be—perfect. Since that’s impossible, I want you to be as close to perfection as possible. I don’t know anyone who’s on a better path to it than you, if you choose to be. No one has ever had as much effort put into their education as you have; and no one has had the same opportunities for knowledge and growth that you have had, and still have, I hope. I feel hopeful, worried, and uncertain all at once. The only thing I’m sure of is that you will either be the greatest source of pain or the greatest joy in my life.
LETTER XXX
BATH, February 22, O. S. 1748.
DEAR Boy: Every excellency, and every virtue, has its kindred vice or weakness; and if carried beyond certain bounds, sinks into one or the other. Generosity often runs into profusion, economy into avarice, courage into rashness, caution into timidity, and so on:—insomuch that, I believe, there is more judgment required, for the proper conduct of our virtues, than for avoiding their opposite vices. Vice, in its true light, is so deformed, that it shocks us at first sight, and would hardly ever seduce us, if it did not, at first, wear the mask of some virtue. But virtue is, in itself, so beautiful, that it charms us at first sight; engages us more and more upon further acquaintance; and, as with other beauties, we think excess impossible; it is here that judgment is necessary, to moderate and direct the effects of an excellent cause. I shall apply this reasoning, at present, not to any particular virtue, but to an excellency, which, for want of judgment, is often the cause of ridiculous and blamable effects; I mean, great learning; which, if not accompanied with sound judgment, frequently carries us into error, pride, and pedantry. As, I hope, you will possess that excellency in its utmost extent, and yet without its too common failings, the hints, which my experience can suggest, may probably not be useless to you.
DEAR Boy: Every excellence and every virtue has its corresponding vice or weakness, and if pushed too far, it slides into one or the other. Generosity can turn into wasting money, frugality into greed, courage into recklessness, and caution into fearfulness, and so on. I believe it takes more judgment to manage our virtues properly than to avoid their opposing vices. Vice, when seen clearly, is so ugly that it shocks us at first glance and would hardly tempt us if it didn't initially masquerade as some kind of virtue. But virtue itself is so beautiful that it captivates us right away; it draws us in more and more as we get to know it better. Just like with other beauties, we think it can't be excessive; this is where judgment becomes important to moderate and guide the effects of a great quality. Right now, I want to discuss not a specific virtue, but an excellence that, due to a lack of judgment, often leads to ridiculous and blameworthy results—great learning. If not paired with sound judgment, it frequently leads us into mistakes, arrogance, and pretentiousness. Since I hope you will embrace this excellence to its fullest without falling into its common pitfalls, the insights from my experience may not be useless to you.
Some learned men, proud of their knowledge, only speak to decide, and give judgment without appeal; the consequence of which is, that mankind, provoked by the insult, and injured by the oppression, revolt; and, in order to shake off the tyranny, even call the lawful authority in question. The more you know, the modester you should be: and (by the bye) that modesty is the surest way of gratifying your vanity. Even where you are sure, seem rather doubtful; represent, but do not pronounce, and, if you would convince others, seem open to conviction yourself.
Some knowledgeable individuals, proud of what they know, only speak to make decisions and pass judgment without room for discussion. As a result, people, feeling insulted and oppressed, rebel; and to escape this tyranny, they even challenge legitimate authority. The more you know, the more humble you should be: by the way, that humility is the best way to satisfy your ego. Even when you're confident, act a bit uncertain; present your ideas without declaring them as facts, and if you want to persuade others, appear willing to change your mind.
Others, to show their learning, or often from the prejudices of a school education, where they hear of nothing else, are always talking of the ancients, as something more than men, and of the moderns, as something less. They are never without a classic or two in their pockets; they stick to the old good sense; they read none of the modern trash; and will show you, plainly, that no improvement has been made, in any one art or science, these last seventeen hundred years. I would by no means have you disown your acquaintance with the ancients: but still less would I have you brag of an exclusive intimacy with them. Speak of the moderns without contempt, and of the ancients without idolatry; judge them all by their merits, but not by their ages; and if you happen to have an Elzevir classic in your pocket neither show it nor mention it.
Some people, wanting to show off their education or influenced by the biases of their schooling, which often focuses only on the past, constantly talk about the ancients as if they were superior to regular people and view modern thinkers as inferior. They always carry a classic or two, cling to traditional wisdom, refuse to engage with contemporary nonsense, and will insist that no real progress has been made in any art or science over the past seventeen hundred years. I definitely don’t want you to deny your knowledge of the ancients, but I also don't want you to boast about having a special connection with them. Speak of modern thinkers respectfully and of the ancients without idolizing them; evaluate everyone based on their own merits, not their historical period; and if you happen to have a classic from an Elzevir edition in your pocket, keep it to yourself and don't bring it up.
Some great scholars, most absurdly, draw all their maxims, both for public and private life, from what they call parallel cases in the ancient authors; without considering, that, in the first place, there never were, since the creation of the world, two cases exactly parallel; and, in the next place, that there never was a case stated, or even known, by any historian, with every one of its circumstances; which, however, ought to be known, in order to be reasoned from. Reason upon the case itself, and the several circumstances that attend it, and act accordingly; but not from the authority of ancient poets, or historians. Take into your consideration, if you please, cases seemingly analogous; but take them as helps only, not as guides. We are really so prejudiced by our education, that, as the ancients deified their heroes, we deify their madmen; of which, with all due regard for antiquity, I take Leonidas and Curtius to have been two distinguished ones. And yet a solid pedant would, in a speech in parliament, relative to a tax of two pence in the pound upon some community or other, quote those two heroes, as examples of what we ought to do and suffer for our country. I have known these absurdities carried so far by people of injudicious learning, that I should not be surprised, if some of them were to propose, while we are at war with the Gauls, that a number of geese should be kept in the Tower, upon account of the infinite advantage which Rome received IN A PARALLEL CASE, from a certain number of geese in the Capitol. This way of reasoning, and this way of speaking, will always form a poor politician, and a puerile declaimer.
Some scholars, quite ridiculously, base all their principles for public and private life on what they call parallel cases from ancient writers. They don’t realize that, first of all, there have never been two situations in the history of the world that are exactly alike; and, secondly, there has never been a situation fully described by any historian with every relevant detail, which is necessary to draw conclusions from. Instead, we should focus on the specific situation and its unique circumstances and act accordingly, rather than relying on the authority of ancient poets or historians. We can consider cases that seem similar, but we should only use them as aids, not as our main guides. We are so influenced by our upbringing that, just as the ancients idolized their heroes, we tend to idolize their foolish figures; I view Leonidas and Curtius as notable examples of this. Yet, a narrow-minded scholar might, in a parliamentary speech about a tax of two pence per pound on some community, cite these two heroes as models for what we should endure and do for our country. I've seen this silliness taken to such extremes by people lacking discernment that I wouldn’t be surprised if someone suggested, while we’re at war with the Gauls, that we keep a bunch of geese in the Tower, referencing the enormous advantage that Rome gained in a similar situation from a certain number of geese in the Capitol. This kind of reasoning and speaking will always lead to poor politicians and childish speakers.
There is another species of learned men, who, though less dogmatical and supercilious, are not less impertinent. These are the communicative and shining pedants, who adorn their conversation, even with women, by happy quotations of Greek and Latin; and who have contracted such a familiarity with the Greek and Roman authors, that they, call them by certain names or epithets denoting intimacy. As OLD Homer; that SLY ROGUE Horace; MARO, instead of Virgil; and Naso, Instead of Ovid. These are often imitated by coxcombs, who have no learning at all; but who have got some names and some scraps of ancient authors by heart, which they improperly and impertinently retail in all companies, in hopes of passing for scholars. If, therefore, you would avoid the accusation of pedantry on one hand, or the suspicion of ignorance on the other, abstain from learned ostentation. Speak the language of the company that you are in; speak it purely, and unlarded with any other. Never seem wiser, nor more learned, than the people you are with. Wear your learning, like your watch, in a private pocket: and do not pull it out and strike it; merely to show that you have one. If you are asked what o’clock it is, tell it; but do not proclaim it hourly and unasked, like the watchman.
There’s another type of educated person who, while less arrogant and condescending, is still pretty annoying. These are the chatty and flashy know-it-alls who spice up their conversations, even with women, by dropping clever quotes from Greek and Latin. They’ve become so familiar with Greek and Roman authors that they refer to them with nicknames or terms of endearment, like OLD Homer, that SLY ROGUE Horace, MARO instead of Virgil, and Naso instead of Ovid. These types are often copied by fools who have no real education but have memorized a few names and some lines from ancient texts, which they clumsily and irrelevant share in every conversation, hoping to be seen as intellectuals. So, if you want to avoid being called a know-it-all on one hand or being suspected of ignorance on the other, skip the showy displays of knowledge. Speak the language of the people you’re with; speak it clearly and without unnecessary embellishment. Don’t act like you’re wiser or more knowledgeable than those around you. Keep your learning, like your watch, hidden in your pocket, and don’t pull it out just to show it off. If someone asks you for the time, tell them, but don’t announce it every hour without being asked, like a town crier.
Upon the whole, remember that learning (I mean Greek and Roman learning) is a most useful and necessary ornament, which it is shameful not to be master of; but, at the same time most carefully avoid those errors and abuses which I have mentioned, and which too often attend it. Remember, too, that great modern knowledge is still more necessary than ancient; and that you had better know perfectly the present, than the old state of Europe; though I would have you well acquainted with both.
Overall, keep in mind that learning (I’m talking about Greek and Roman knowledge) is an incredibly useful and important skill that it's shameful not to possess. However, be very careful to avoid the mistakes and issues I’ve pointed out, which often come with it. Also, remember that modern knowledge is even more crucial than ancient learning; it’s better to understand the present perfectly than to know the old state of Europe, although I’d like you to be familiar with both.
I have this moment received your letter of the 17th, N. S. Though, I confess, there is no great variety in your present manner of life, yet materials can never be wanting for a letter; you see, you hear, or you read something new every day; a short account of which, with your own reflections thereupon, will make out a letter very well. But, since you desire a subject, pray send me an account of the Lutheran establishment in Germany; their religious tenets, their church government, the maintenance, authority, and titles of their clergy.
I just received your letter from the 17th, N. S. Although I admit there isn’t much change in your current lifestyle, there’s always something to write about. You see, hear, or read something new every day; a brief summary of that, along with your thoughts on it, can make for a great letter. However, since you're looking for a specific topic, please send me some information about the Lutheran establishment in Germany: their beliefs, church governance, and the roles, authority, and titles of their clergy.
‘Vittorio Siri’, complete, is a very scarce and very dear book here; but I do not want it. If your own library grows too voluminous, you will not know what to do with it, when you leave Leipsig. Your best way will be, when you go away from thence, to send to England, by Hamburg, all the books that you do not absolutely want.
‘Vittorio Siri’ in its entirety is a very rare and valuable book here; but I don’t want it. If your library gets too large, you won’t know what to do with it when you leave Leipzig. The best option for you, when you leave, will be to send all the books you don’t really need to England via Hamburg.
Yours.
Yours.
LETTER XXXI
BATH, March 1, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: By Mr. Harte’s letter to Mr. Grevenkop, of the 21st February, N. S., I find that you had been a great while without receiving any letters from me; but by this time, I daresay you think you have received enough, and possibly more than you have read; for I am not only a frequent, but a prolix correspondent.
DEAR BOY: From Mr. Harte’s letter to Mr. Grevenkop on February 21st, I see that you've gone quite a while without hearing from me. But by now, I bet you think you've gotten enough letters, maybe even more than you've read, because I tend to write a lot and I'm quite chatty in my correspondence.
Mr. Harte says, in that letter, that he looks upon Professor Mascow to be one of the ablest men in Europe, in treaty and political knowledge. I am extremely glad of it; for that is what I would have you particularly apply to, and make yourself perfect master of. The treaty part you must chiefly acquire by reading the treaties themselves, and the histories and memoirs relative to them; not but that inquiries and conversations upon those treaties will help you greatly, and imprint them better in your mind. In this course of reading, do not perplex yourself, at first, by the multitude of insignificant treaties which are to be found in the Corps Diplomatique; but stick to the material ones, which altered the state of Europe, and made a new arrangement among the great powers; such as the treaties of Munster, Nimeguen, Ryswick, and Utrecht.
Mr. Harte mentions in that letter that he considers Professor Mascow to be one of the most capable individuals in Europe when it comes to treaties and political knowledge. I'm really glad to hear that because that's exactly what I want you to focus on and become an expert in. You should mainly learn about treaties by reading the treaties themselves, along with the histories and memoirs related to them. However, discussing and asking questions about those treaties will also help you a lot and reinforce your understanding. As you go through this reading, don’t let yourself get overwhelmed at first by the many minor treaties found in the Corps Diplomatique; instead, concentrate on the significant ones that changed the balance of power in Europe and reshaped relationships among the major powers, like the treaties of Munster, Nimeguen, Ryswick, and Utrecht.
But there is one part of political knowledge, which is only to be had by inquiry and conversation; that is, the present state of every power in Europe, with regard to the three important points, of strength, revenue, and commerce. You will, therefore, do well, while you are in Germany, to inform yourself carefully of the military force, the revenues, and the commerce of every prince and state of the empire; and to write down those informations in a little book, for that particular purpose. To give you a specimen of what I mean:—
But there’s one part of political knowledge that you can only gain through inquiry and conversation: the current status of every power in Europe concerning three important factors: strength, revenue, and commerce. So, while you’re in Germany, it would be wise to carefully gather information about the military force, revenues, and commerce of every prince and state in the empire, and write down that information in a small notebook specifically for that purpose. To give you an example 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.
THE ELECTORATE OF HANOVER The revenue is around £500,000 a year. The military establishment, during wartime, can reach about 25,000 men; but that's the maximum. The main trade is linens, exported from Stade. There are coarse woolen products for local consumption. The Hartz mines generate about £100,000 in silver each year.
Such informations you may very easily get, by proper inquiries, of every state in Germany if you will but prefer useful to frivolous conversations.
You can easily get this information by asking the right questions in any state in Germany if you choose to have useful conversations over pointless ones.
There are many princes in Germany, who keep very few or no troops, unless upon the approach of danger, or for the sake of profit, by letting them out for subsidies, to great powers: In that case, you will inform yourself what number of troops they could raise, either for their own defense, or furnish to other powers for subsidies.
There are many princes in Germany who maintain very few or no troops unless there's a threat or for profit by leasing them out to major powers. In that case, you can find out how many troops they could mobilize, either for their own defense or to provide to other powers for payment.
There is very little trouble, and an infinite use, in acquiring of this knowledge. It seems to me even to be a more entertaining subject to talk upon, than ‘la pluie et le beau tens’.
There’s hardly any trouble and endless value in gaining this knowledge. It honestly seems like a more interesting topic to discuss than 'the rain and the nice weather.'
Though I am sensible that these things cannot be known with the utmost exactness, at least by you yet, you may, however, get so near the truth, that the difference will be very immaterial.
Though I understand that you can't know these things with complete certainty just yet, you can still get close enough to the truth that the difference won't really matter.
Pray let me know if the Roman Catholic worship is tolerated in Saxony, anywhere but at Court; and if public mass-houses are allowed anywhere else in the electorate. Are the regular Romish clergy allowed; and have they any convents?
Please let me know if Roman Catholic worship is allowed in Saxony, anywhere other than at Court, and if public churches are permitted anywhere else in the electorate. Are the regular Catholic clergy permitted, and do they have any convents?
Are there any military orders in Saxony, and what? Is the White Eagle a Saxon or a Polish order? Upon what occasion, and when was it founded? What number of knights?
Are there any military orders in Saxony, and what are they? Is the White Eagle a Saxon or a Polish order? When and on what occasion was it founded? How many knights are there?
Adieu! God bless you; and may you turn out what I wish!
Goodbye! God bless you, and I hope you become everything I wish for!
LETTER XXXII
BATH, March 9, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I must from time to time, remind you of what I have often recommended to you, and of what you cannot attend to too much; SACRIFICE TO THE GRACES. The different effects of the same things, said or done, when accompanied or abandoned by them, is almost inconceivable. They prepare the way to the heart; and the heart has such an influence over the understanding, that it is worth while to engage it in our interest. It is the whole of women, who are guided by nothing else: and it has so much to say, even with men, and the ablest men too, that it commonly triumphs in every struggle with the understanding. Monsieur de Rochefoucault, in his “Maxims,” says, that ‘l’esprit est souvent la dupe du coeur.’ If he had said, instead of ‘souvent, tresque toujours’, I fear he would have been nearer the truth. This being the case, aim at the heart. Intrinsic merit alone will not do; it will gain you the general esteem of all; but not the particular affection, that is, the heart of any. To engage the affections of any particular person, you must, over and above your general merit, have some particular merit to that person by services done, or offered; by expressions of regard and esteem; by complaisance, attentions, etc., for him. And the graceful manner of doing all these things opens the way to the heart, and facilitates, or rather insures, their effects. From your own observation, reflect what a disagreeable impression an awkward address, a slovenly figure, an ungraceful manner of speaking, whether stuttering, muttering, monotony, or drawling, an unattentive behavior, etc., make upon you, at first sight, in a stranger, and how they prejudice you against him, though for aught you know, he may have great intrinsic sense and merit. And reflect, on the other hand, how much the opposites of all these things prepossess you, at first sight, in favor of those who enjoy them. You wish to find all good qualities in them, and are in some degree disappointed if you do not. A thousand little things, not separately to be defined, conspire to form these graces, this je ne sais quoi, that always please. A pretty person, genteel motions, a proper degree of dress, an harmonious voice, something open and cheerful in the countenance, but without laughing; a distinct and properly varied manner of speaking: All these things, and many others, are necessary ingredients in the composition of the pleasing je ne sais quoi, which everybody feels, though nobody can describe. Observe carefully, then, what displeases or pleases you in others, and be persuaded, that in general; the same things will please or displease them in you. Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you against it: and I could heartily wish, that you may often be seen to smile, but never heard to laugh while you live. Frequent and loud laughter is the characteristic of folly and in manners; it is the manner in which the mob express their silly joy at silly things; and they call it being merry. In my mind, there is nothing so illiberal, and so ill-bred, as audible laughter. True wit, or sense, never yet made anybody laugh; they are above it: They please the mind, and give a cheerfulness to the countenance. But it is low buffoonery, or silly accidents, that always excite laughter; and that is what people of sense and breeding should show themselves above. A man’s going to sit down, in the supposition that he has a chair behind him, and falling down upon his breech for want of one, sets a whole company a laughing, when all the wit in the world would not do it; a plain proof, in my mind, how low and unbecoming a thing laughter is: not to mention the disagreeable noise that it makes, and the shocking distortion of the face that it occasions. Laughter is easily restrained, by a very little reflection; but as it is generally connected with the idea of gaiety, people do not enough attend to its absurdity. I am neither of a melancholy nor a cynical disposition, and am as willing and as apt to be pleased as anybody; but I am sure that, since I have had the full use of my reason, nobody has ever heard me laugh. Many people, at first, from awkwardness and ‘mauvaise honte’, have got a very disagreeable and silly trick of laughing whenever they speak; and I know a man of very good parts, Mr. Waller, who cannot say the commonest thing without laughing; which makes those, who do not know him, take him at first for a natural fool. This, and many other very disagreeable habits, are owing to mauvaise honte at their first setting out in the world. They are ashamed in company, and so disconcerted, that they do not know what they do, and try a thousand tricks to keep themselves in countenance; which tricks afterward grow habitual to them. Some put their fingers in their nose, others scratch their heads, others twirl their hats; in short, every awkward, ill-bred body has his trick. But the frequency does not justify the thing, and all these vulgar habits and awkwardnesses, though not criminal indeed, are most carefully to be guarded against, as they are great bars in the way of the art of pleasing. Remember, that to please is almost to prevail, or at least a necessary previous step to it. You, who have your fortune to make, should more particularly study this art. You had not, I must tell you, when you left England, ‘les manieres prevenantes’; and I must confess they are not very common in England; but I hope that your good sense will make you acquire them abroad. If you desire to make yourself considerable in the world (as, if you have any spirit, you do), it must be entirely your own doing; for I may very possibly be out of the world at the time you come into it. Your own rank and fortune will not assist you; your merit and your manners can alone raise you to figure and fortune. I have laid the foundations of them, by the education which I have given you; but you must build the superstructure yourself.
DEAR BOY: I must remind you from time to time about something I've often suggested, and which you can't overlook: SACRIFICE TO THE GRACES. The different effects of the same things, whether said or done, when they are supported or neglected by these graces, are almost unbelievable. They open the heart, and since the heart significantly influences the mind, it’s worth getting it on our side. This is what guides women completely; and it has a strong impact on men, even the most capable ones, often winning out in every conflict with reason. Monsieur de Rochefoucault, in his “Maxims,” says, ‘l’esprit est souvent la dupe du coeur.’ If he had said ‘tresque toujours’ instead of ‘souvent,’ I think he would have been closer to the truth. Given this, focus on winning the heart. Just having intrinsic merit won’t be enough; it will earn you general respect, but not the special affection or the heart of any specific person. To win someone’s affections, you need, in addition to your general merit, to have some particular merit for that person through services rendered or offered, through expressions of regard and esteem, through kindness, attention, etc. The graceful way of doing these things opens the heart and ensures their effectiveness. Reflect on how an awkward approach, a sloppy appearance, an ungraceful manner of speaking—whether it’s stuttering, mumbling, speaking in a monotone, or dragging out words—and inattentive behavior, make a bad impression on you at first sight in a stranger, and how they turn you against him, even though he might have great intrinsic sense and merit. Conversely, think about how the opposite qualities predispose you favorably towards those who possess them. You want to find all good traits in them and feel somewhat let down if you don’t. A thousand small things, not separately defined, come together to create these graces, this je ne sais quoi, that is always appealing. An attractive person, graceful movements, appropriate attire, a pleasant voice, an open and cheerful expression (but not laughing), a clear and varied way of speaking: All these factors and many more are essential components of that pleasing je ne sais quoi, which everyone feels, though nobody can describe. Pay close attention to what you find pleasing or displeasing in others and be assured that, generally, the same things will please or displease them in you. Speaking of laughter, I must specifically caution you against it: I truly hope you are often seen smiling, but never heard laughing during your life. Frequent and loud laughter is a hallmark of foolishness; it’s how the masses express their silly joy over trivial things, and they call it being merry. In my view, nothing is as uncultured and ill-bred as loud laughter. True wit or sense has never made anyone laugh; they are above that: They please the mind and bring happiness to the face. But it’s low humor or silly incidents that provoke laughter, and that’s what people of taste and breeding should rise above. If a man goes to sit down, assuming there’s a chair behind him but falls because there isn’t, he can set the whole room laughing, while all the wit in the world wouldn’t achieve the same; this shows how low and unbecoming laughter is: not to mention the annoying noise it creates and the awkward faces it makes. Laughter can be easily controlled with a bit of reflection, but because it’s often associated with joy, people don’t pay enough attention to its absurdity. I’m neither melancholic nor cynical and am as inclined to be pleased as anyone else; but since I've been fully rational, no one has ever heard me laugh. Many people, initially out of awkwardness and ‘mauvaise honte,’ develop the annoying habit of laughing whenever they speak; I know a very capable man, Mr. Waller, who can’t say even the simplest thing without laughing, which leads those who don’t know him to mistakenly see him as a natural fool. This and other unpleasant habits stem from ‘mauvaise honte’ when they first enter society. They feel embarrassed in company, become flustered, and don’t know how to behave, trying various tricks to maintain their composure—tricks that eventually become habitual. Some stick their fingers in their noses, others scratch their heads, while others twirl their hats; in short, every awkward, ill-mannered person has his own quirk. However, just because these behaviors are frequent doesn’t make them acceptable, and all these vulgar habits and clumsiness, while not criminal, should be carefully guarded against, as they greatly hinder the art of pleasing. Remember that to please is almost to succeed, or at the very least, a necessary first step toward it. You, who have your future to build, should pay particular attention to this art. You didn’t have the necessary manners when you left England, and I must admit they aren’t very common there; but I hope your good sense will help you acquire them abroad. If you want to make a significant mark in the world (which, if you have any ambition, you do), it must be done entirely by yourself; I might very well be out of the picture by the time you step into it. Your rank and wealth won’t help you; only your merit and manners can elevate you to prominence and success. I've laid the foundation through the education I've given you, but you must build the rest yourself.
I must now apply to you for some informations, which I dare say you can, and which I desire you will give me.
I now need to ask you for some information, which I believe you can provide, and I hope you'll share it with me.
Can the Elector of Saxony put any of his subjects to death for high treason, without bringing them first to their trial in some public court of justice?
Can the Elector of Saxony execute any of his subjects for high treason without first bringing them to trial in a public court?
Can he, by his own authority, confine any subject in prison as long as he pleases, without trial?
Can he, on his own authority, keep anyone in prison for as long as he wants, without a trial?
Can he banish any subject out of his dominions by his own authority?
Can he remove anyone from his territory by his own authority?
Can he lay any tax whatsoever upon his subjects, without the consent of the states of Saxony? and what are those states? how are they elected? what orders do they consist of? Do the clergy make part of them? and when, and how often do they meet?
Can he impose any taxes on his subjects without the approval of the states of Saxony? And who are those states? How are they chosen? What groups do they include? Do the clergy participate in them? And when and how often do they meet?
If two subjects of the elector’s are at law, for an estate situated in the electorate, in what court must this suit be tried? and will the decision of that court be final, or does there lie an appeal to the imperial chamber at Wetzlaer?
If two parties from the elector’s domain are in a legal dispute over property located in the electorate, in what court should this case be tried? And will the court's decision be final, or can it be appealed to the imperial chamber in Wetzlaer?
What do you call the two chief courts, or two chief magistrates, of civil and criminal justice?
What do you call the two main courts, or the two main officials, of civil and criminal justice?
What is the common revenue of the electorate, one year with another?
What is the average revenue of the electorate from year to year?
What number of troops does the elector now maintain? and what is the greatest number that the electorate is able to maintain?
What number of troops does the elector currently have? And what is the maximum number that the electorate can support?
I do not expect to have all these questions answered at once; but you will answer them, in proportion as you get the necessary and authentic informations.
I don't expect to have all these questions answered at once; but you will answer them as you gather the necessary and accurate information.
You are, you see, my German oracle; and I consult you with so much faith, that you need not, like the oracles of old, return ambiguous answers; especially as you have this advantage over them, too, that I only consult you about past end present, but not about what is to come.
You are, you see, my German oracle; and I consult you with so much faith, that you don’t need to, like the oracles of old, give vague answers; especially since you have the added benefit that I only ask you about the past and present, not about the future.
I wish you a good Easter-fair at Leipsig. See, with attention all the shops, drolls, tumblers, rope-dancers, and ‘hoc genus omne’: but inform yourself more particularly of the several parts of trade there. Adieu.
I wish you a great Easter fair in Leipzig. Make sure to check out all the shops, performers, acrobats, tightrope walkers, and everything else you can find there. But especially look into the different areas of trade happening. Goodbye.
LETTER XXXIII
LONDON, March 25, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I am in great joy at the written and the verbal accounts which I have received lately of you.
DEAR BOY: I am so happy about the written and spoken updates I've received from you lately.
The former, from Mr. Harte; the latter, from Mr. Trevanion, who is arrived here: they conspire to convince me that you employ your time well at Leipsig. I am glad to find you consult your own interest and your own pleasure so much; for the knowledge which you will acquire in these two years is equally necessary for both. I am likewise particularly pleased to find that you turn yourself to that sort of knowledge which is more peculiarly necessary for your destination: for Mr. Harte tells me you have read, with attention, Caillieres, Pequet, and Richelieu’s “Letters.” The “Memoirs” of the Cardinal de Retz will both entertain and instruct you; they relate to a very interesting period of the French history, the ministry of Cardinal Mazarin, during the minority of Lewis XIV. The characters of all the considerable people of that time are drawn, in a short, strong, and masterly manner; and the political reflections, which are most of them printed in italics, are the justest that ever I met with: they are not the labored reflections of a systematical closet politician, who, without the least experience of business, sits at home and writes maxims; but they are the reflections which a great and able man formed from long experience and practice in great business. They are true conclusions, drawn from facts, not from speculations.
The first comes from Mr. Harte; the second from Mr. Trevanion, who has arrived here: they both make me believe that you’re using your time well in Leipzig. I’m happy to see that you’re prioritizing your own interests and enjoyment; the knowledge you’ll gain in these two years is equally valuable for both. I’m also particularly pleased to learn that you’re focusing on the type of knowledge that is especially necessary for your goals: Mr. Harte tells me you’ve been reading, with attention, Caillieres, Pequet, and Richelieu’s “Letters.” The “Memoirs” of Cardinal de Retz will entertain and educate you; they cover a fascinating period in French history, the ministry of Cardinal Mazarin, during the minority of Louis XIV. The portraits of all the important figures from that time are painted in a concise, strong, and skillful way; and the political insights, most of which are printed in italics, are the most accurate I’ve ever encountered: they aren’t the tedious thoughts of a theoretical politician, who, without any real-world experience, sits at home writing maxims; but rather, they are the insights of a great and capable individual formed from years of experience and practice in significant matters. They are true conclusions drawn from facts, not from theories.
As modern history is particularly your business, I will give you some rules to direct your study of it. It begins, properly with Charlemagne, in the year 800. But as, in those times of ignorance, the priests and monks were almost the only people that could or did write, we have scarcely any histories of those times but such as they have been pleased to give us, which are compounds of ignorance, superstition, and party zeal. So that a general notion of what is rather supposed, than really known to be, the history of the five or six following centuries, seems to be sufficient; and much time would be but ill employed in a minute attention to those legends. But reserve your utmost care, and most diligent inquiries, from the fifteenth century, and downward. Then learning began to revive, and credible histories to be written; Europe began to take the form, which, to some degree, it still retains: at least the foundations of the present great powers of Europe were then laid. Lewis the Eleventh made France, in truth, a monarchy, or, as he used to say himself, ‘la mit hors de Page’. Before his time, there were independent provinces in France, as the Duchy of Brittany, etc., whose princes tore it to pieces, and kept it in constant domestic confusion. Lewis the Eleventh reduced all these petty states, by fraud, force, or marriage; for he scrupled no means to obtain his ends.
Since modern history is your area of focus, I’ll provide you with some guidelines for your study. It properly starts with Charlemagne in the year 800. However, during those times of ignorance, priests and monks were almost the only people who could write, so we have very few histories from that period. Most of what we have consists of their interpretations, which are filled with ignorance, superstition, and bias. Therefore, a general understanding of what is more assumed than actually known about the history of the next five or six centuries should suffice, and spending too much time on those legends would be unwise. Focus your attention and thorough inquiries on the fifteenth century and beyond. That’s when learning began to flourish and credible histories started to be written; Europe began to take on a shape that, to some extent, it still has today—at least the foundations of the current major powers in Europe were established then. Louis the Eleventh effectively turned France into a monarchy, which he himself referred to as ‘la mit hors de Page’. Before his time, France had independent provinces like the Duchy of Brittany, whose rulers constantly fought with each other and created chaos. Louis the Eleventh brought all these smaller states together through trickery, force, or marriage; he used any means necessary to achieve his goals.
About that time, Ferdinand King of Aragon, and Isabella his wife, Queen of Castile, united the whole Spanish monarchy, and drove the Moors out of Spain, who had till then kept position of Granada. About that time, too, the house of Austria laid the great foundations of its subsequent power; first, by the marriage of Maximilian with the heiress of Burgundy; and then, by the marriage of his son Philip, Archduke of Austria, with Jane, the daughter of Isabella, Queen of Spain, and heiress of that whole kingdom, and of the West Indies. By the first of these marriages, the house of Austria acquired the seventeen provinces, and by the latter, Spain and America; all which centered in the person of Charles the Fifth, son of the above-mentioned Archduke Philip, the son of Maximilian. It was upon account of these two marriages, that the following Latin distich was made:
Around that time, Ferdinand, King of Aragon, and his wife Isabella, Queen of Castile, unified the entire Spanish monarchy and expelled the Moors from Spain, who had held onto Granada until then. Also around this time, the House of Austria began to build its future power; first, through the marriage of Maximilian to the heiress of Burgundy, and then through the marriage of his son Philip, Archduke of Austria, to Jane, the daughter of Isabella, Queen of Spain, who was the heiress of the entire kingdom and the West Indies. The first marriage brought the House of Austria seventeen provinces, and the second brought Spain and America; all of which converged in Charles the Fifth, the son of Archduke Philip and Maximilian. It was because of these two marriages that the following Latin couplet was created:
Bella gerant alii, Tu felix Austria nube;
Nam qua, Mars aliis; dat tibi regna Venus.
Others may wage war, but you, lucky Austria, marry;
For where Mars gives to others, Venus grants you kingdoms.This immense power, which the Emperor Charles the Fifth found himself possessed of, gave him a desire for universal power (for people never desire all till they have gotten a great deal), and alarmed France; this sowed the seeds of that jealousy and enmity, which have flourished ever since between those two great powers. Afterward the House of Austria was weakened by the division made by Charles the Fifth of his dominions, between his son, Philip the Second of Spain, and his brother Ferdinand; and has ever since been dwindling to the weak condition in which it now is. This is a most interesting part of the history of Europe, of which it is absolutely necessary that you should be exactly and minutely informed.
This immense power that Emperor Charles the Fifth held made him crave universal dominance (people never want everything until they've already gained a lot), and it alarmed France; this planted the seeds of jealousy and hostility that have thrived ever since between these two major powers. Later, the House of Austria was weakened by Charles the Fifth dividing his territories between his son, Philip the Second of Spain, and his brother Ferdinand; it has been slowly declining to the weak state it’s in now. This is a fascinating part of European history, and it’s crucial that you have a clear and detailed understanding of it.
There are in the history of most countries, certain very remarkable eras, which deserve more particular inquiry and attention than the common run of history. Such is the revolt of the Seventeen Provinces, in the reign of Philip the Second of Spain, which ended in forming the present republic of the Seven United Provinces, whose independency was first allowed by Spain at the treaty of Munster. Such was the extraordinary revolution of Portugal, in the year 1640, in favor of the present House of Braganza. Such is the famous revolution of Sweden, when Christian the Second of Denmark, who was also king of Sweden, was driven out by Gustavus Vasa. And such also is that memorable era in Denmark, of 1660; when the states of that kingdom made a voluntary surrender of all their rights and liberties to the Crown, and changed that free state into the most absolute monarchy now in Europe. The Acta Regis, upon that occasion, are worth your perusing. These remarkable periods of modern history deserve your particular attention, and most of them have been treated singly by good historians, which are worth your reading. The revolutions of Sweden, and of Portugal, are most admirably well written by L’Abbe de Vertot; they are short, and will not take twelve hours’ reading. There is another book which very well deserves your looking into, but not worth your buying at present, because it is not portable; if you can borrow or hire it, you should; and that is, ‘L’ Histoire des Traits de Paix, in two volumes, folio, which make part of the ‘Corps Diplomatique’. You will there find a short and clear history, and the substance of every treaty made in Europe, during the last century, from the treaty of Vervins. Three parts in four of this book are not worth your reading, as they relate to treaties of very little importance; but if you select the most considerable ones, read them with attention, and take some notes, it will be of great use to you. Attend chiefly to those in which the great powers of Europe are the parties; such as the treaty of the Pyrenees, between France and Spain; the treaties of Nimeguen and Ryswick; but, above all, the treaty of Munster should be most circumstantially and minutely known to you, as almost every treaty made since has some reference to it. For this, Pere Bougeant is the best book you can read, as it takes in the thirty years’ war, which preceded that treaty. The treaty itself, which is made a perpetual law of the empire, comes in the course of your lectures upon the ‘Jus Publicum Imperii’.
In the history of most countries, there are certain notable periods that deserve more specific attention than the usual historical accounts. One example is the revolt of the Seventeen Provinces during the reign of Philip II of Spain, which led to the formation of the current republic of the Seven United Provinces, whose independence was first recognized by Spain in the treaty of Münster. Another significant event was Portugal's extraordinary revolution in 1640, which supported the present House of Braganza. The famous revolution in Sweden, when Christian II of Denmark, who was also king of Sweden, was ousted by Gustavus Vasa, is another important moment. Additionally, there is the notable period in Denmark in 1660, when the states of that kingdom voluntarily surrendered all their rights and freedoms to the Crown, transforming the free state into the most absolute monarchy in Europe. The Acta Regis regarding that event is worth reading. These significant periods of modern history merit your attention, and many have been explored in detail by reputable historians that are worth checking out. The revolutions in Sweden and Portugal are excellently chronicled by L’Abbé de Vertot; they are concise and won’t take more than twelve hours to read. There’s another book that is worthwhile to consider, though you might not want to buy it right now because it’s not portable; if you can borrow or rent it, you should do so. It’s ‘L’ Histoire des Traits de Paix,’ in two folio volumes, which are part of the ‘Corps Diplomatique.’ In it, you’ll find a brief and clear history along with the substance of every treaty made in Europe over the last century, starting from the treaty of Vervins. Three-quarters of this book may not be very useful, as they concern treaties of little significance; however, if you focus on the most important ones, read them attentively, and take notes, it will be very beneficial for you. Pay special attention to the treaties involving the major powers of Europe, like the treaty of the Pyrenees between France and Spain, the treaties of Nijmegen and Ryswick; but above all, you should be very familiar with the treaty of Münster, as almost every treaty made since has some reference to it. For this, Pere Bougeant’s work is the best option for you, as it covers the Thirty Years’ War that preceded that treaty. The treaty itself, which is made a perpetual law of the empire, will be part of your lectures on the ‘Jus Publicum Imperii.’
In order to furnish you with materials for a letter, and at the same time to inform both you and myself of what it is right that we should know, pray answer me the following questions:
To help you with materials for a letter, and to ensure that both you and I are aware of what we should know, please answer the following questions:
How many companies are there in the Saxon regiments of foot? How many men in each company?
How many companies are in the Saxon infantry regiments? How many men are in each company?
How many troops in the regiments of horse and dragoons; and how many men in each?
How many troops are there in the cavalry and dragoons, and how many men are in each?
What number of commissioned and non-commissioned officers in a company of foot, or in a troop of horse or dragoons? N. B. Noncommissioned officers are all those below ensigns and cornets.
What is the number of commissioned and non-commissioned officers in an infantry company or in a troop of cavalry or dragoons? Note: Non-commissioned officers are everyone below the rank of ensign and cornet.
What is the daily pay of a Saxon foot soldier, dragoon, and trooper?
What is the daily pay for a Saxon foot soldier, dragoon, and trooper?
What are the several ranks of the ‘Etat Major-general’? N. B. The Etat Major-general is everything above colonel. The Austrians have no brigadiers, and the French have no major-generals in their Etat Major. What have the Saxons? Adieu!
What are the different ranks in the ‘General Staff’? Note: The General Staff includes everything above colonel. The Austrians don't have brigadiers, and the French don't have major-generals in their General Staff. What about the Saxons? Goodbye!
LETTER XXXIV
LONDON, March 27, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: This little packet will be delivered to you by one Monsieur Duval, who is going to the fair at Leipsig. He is a jeweler, originally of Geneva, but who has been settled here these eight or ten years, and a very sensible fellow: pray do be very civil to him.
DEAR BOY: This little package will be delivered to you by a man named Monsieur Duval, who is going to the fair in Leipzig. He is a jeweler, originally from Geneva, but has been living here for about eight or ten years, and he's a really sensible guy: please be very nice to him.
As I advised you, some time ago, to inform yourself of the civil and military establishments of as many of the kingdoms and states of Europe, as you should either be in yourself, or be able to get authentic accounts of, I send you here a little book, in which, upon the article of Hanover, I have pointed out the short method of putting down these informations, by way of helping your memory. The book being lettered, you can immediately turn to whatever article you want; and, by adding interleaves to each letter, may extend your minutes to what particulars you please. You may get such books made anywhere; and appropriate each, if you please, to a particular object. I have myself found great utility in this method. If I had known what to have sent you by this opportunity I would have done it. The French say, ‘Que les petits presens entretiennent l’amite et que les grande l’augmentent’; but I could not recollect that you wanted anything, or at least anything that you cannot get as well at Leipsig as here. Do but continue to deserve, and, I assure you, that you shall never want anything I can give.
As I suggested to you some time ago, to learn about the civil and military structures of various kingdoms and states in Europe, whether you may be involved with them directly or can obtain reliable information, I'm sending you a little book. In it, I've outlined a simple way to organize this information for your memory, specifically regarding Hanover. The book is organized alphabetically, so you can easily find any topic you need; by adding blank pages between each letter, you can expand your notes on any details you want. You can have similar books made anywhere, and you can customize each one for specific purposes if you'd like. I've found this method to be very useful. If I had known what to send you this time, I would have done so. The French say, 'Small gifts maintain friendship, while larger ones enhance it'; however, I couldn't remember if you needed anything, or at least anything you couldn't also get in Leipzig. Just keep deserving, and I promise you will never lack for anything I can give.
Do not apprehend that my being out of employment may be any prejudice to you. Many things will happen before you can be fit for business; and when you are fit, whatever my situation may be, it will always be in my power to help you in your first steps; afterward you must help yourself by your own abilities. Make yourself necessary, and, instead of soliciting, you will be solicited. The thorough knowledge of foreign affairs, the interests, the views, and the manners of the several courts in Europe, are not the common growth of this country. It is in your power to acquire them; you have all the means. Adieu! Yours.
Don't worry that my being unemployed might hold you back. A lot will happen before you're ready for work, and when you are ready, no matter what my situation is, I'll always be able to assist you in your early steps. After that, you'll need to rely on your own skills. Make yourself indispensable, and instead of having to ask for opportunities, you'll be sought after. A deep understanding of international affairs, the interests, the goals, and the customs of the various courts in Europe isn't something that just happens here. You have the ability to learn it; you have all the resources. Goodbye! Yours.
LETTER XXXV
LONDON, April 1, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I have not received any letter, either from you or from Mr. Harte, these three posts, which I impute wholly to accidents between this place and Leipsig; and they are distant enough to admit of many. I always take it for granted that you are well, when I do not hear to the contrary; besides, as I have often told you, I am much more anxious about your doing well, than about your being well; and, when you do not write, I will suppose that you are doing something more useful. Your health will continue, while your temperance continues; and at your age nature takes sufficient care of the body, provided she is left to herself, and that intemperance on one hand, or medicines on the other, do not break in upon her. But it is by no means so with the mind, which, at your age particularly, requires great and constant care, and some physic. Every quarter of an hour, well or ill employed, will do it essential and lasting good or harm. It requires also a great deal of exercise, to bring it to a state of health and vigor. Observe the difference there is between minds cultivated, and minds uncultivated, and you will, I am sure, think that you cannot take too much pains, nor employ too much of your time in the culture of your own. A drayman is probably born with as good organs as Milton, Locke, or Newton; but, by culture, they are as much more above him as he is above his horse. Sometimes, indeed, extraordinary geniuses have broken out by the force of nature, without the assistance of education; but those instances are too rare for anybody to trust to; and even they would make a much greater figure, if they had the advantage of education into the bargain. If Shakespeare’s genius had been cultivated, those beauties, which we so justly admire in him, would have been undisgraced by those extravagancies, and that nonsense, with which they are frequently accompanied. People are, in general, what they are made, by education and company, from fifteen to five-and-twenty; consider well, therefore, the importance of your next eight or nine years; your whole depends upon them. I will tell you sincerely, my hopes and my fears concerning you. I think you will be a good scholar; and that you will acquire a considerable stock of knowledge of various kinds; but I fear that you neglect what are called little, though, in truth, they are very material things; I mean, a gentleness of manners, an engaging address, and an insinuating behavior; they are real and solid advantages, and none but those who do not know the world, treat them as trifles. I am told that you speak very quick, and not distinctly; this is a most ungraceful and disagreeable trick, which you know I have told you of a thousand times; pray attend carefully to the correction of it. An agreeable and, distinct manner of speaking adds greatly to the matter; and I have known many a very good speech unregarded, upon account of the disagreeable manner in which it has been delivered, and many an indifferent one applauded, from the contrary reason. Adieu!
DEAR BOY: I haven’t received any letters from you or Mr. Harte in the last three mail deliveries, which I completely attribute to some mishaps between here and Leipzig; it’s far enough away that there can be many. I always assume you’re doing well unless I hear otherwise; besides, as I’ve often told you, I’m much more concerned about your success than about your health. When you don’t write, I’ll assume you’re busy with something more productive. Your health will stay good as long as you remain moderate; at your age, nature does a pretty good job taking care of the body, as long as you don’t interfere with it through excess or medications. However, it’s not the same with the mind, which, especially at your age, needs a lot of attention and some stimulation. Every quarter of an hour spent wisely or wasted will have a significant and lasting impact. It also requires plenty of exercise to be in a good and active state. Notice the difference between cultivated and uncultivated minds, and I’m sure you’ll agree that you can’t put too much effort or time into developing your own. A cart driver likely has the same innate abilities as Milton, Locke, or Newton; but through education, they are so much further ahead that he is like a horse in comparison. Occasionally, extraordinary talents have emerged purely through natural ability without education; but those cases are too rare for anyone to rely on, and even they would have shone even brighter with the benefit of education. If Shakespeare’s talent had been nurtured, the beauties we admire so much would have been free of the awkwardness and nonsense that often accompanied them. Generally, people are shaped by their education and social circle between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five; so think carefully about how crucial the next eight or nine years are for you; your entire future relies on them. I’ll share my honest hopes and fears about you. I believe you will be a good scholar and gain a good amount of diverse knowledge; but I worry that you might overlook what are often considered small but truly significant things—like having good manners, a pleasant way of speaking, and an approachable demeanor. These are real advantages, and only those who don’t understand the world dismiss them as trivial. I’ve heard you speak very quickly and unclearly; this is an ungraceful and unpleasant habit, which I know I’ve warned you about countless times; please pay close attention to fixing it. An agreeable and clear way of speaking significantly enhances the content; I’ve seen many well-crafted speeches ignored due to poor delivery, and many mediocre ones appreciated for the opposite reason. Goodbye!
LETTER XXXVI
LONDON, April 15, O. S. 1748
DEAR BOY: Though I have no letters from you to acknowledge since my last to you, I will not let three posts go from hence without a letter from me. My affection always prompts me to write to you; and I am encouraged to do it, by the hopes that my letters are not quite useless. You will probably receive this in the midst of the diversions of Leipsig fair; at which, Mr. Harte tells me, that you are to shine in fine clothes, among fine folks. I am very glad of it, as it is time that you should begin to be formed to the manners of the world in higher life. Courts are the best schools for that sort of learning. You are beginning now with the outside of a court; and there is not a more gaudy one than that of Saxony. Attend to it, and make your observations upon the turn and manners of it, that you may hereafter compare it with other courts which you will see; And, though you are not yet able to be informed, or to judge of the political conduct and maxims of that court, yet you may remark the forms, the ceremonies, and the exterior state of it. At least see everything that you can see, and know everything that you can know of it, by asking questions. See likewise everything at the fair, from operas and plays, down to the Savoyard’s raree-shows.
DEAR BOY: Even though I haven't received any letters from you since my last, I won't let three mail deliveries go by without sending you a letter. My affection always motivates me to write to you, and I’m encouraged by the hope that my letters are somewhat useful to you. You’ll probably get this in the middle of the Leipsig fair festivities, where Mr. Harte tells me you'll be looking sharp among stylish people. I’m really happy about it, as it's time for you to start getting accustomed to the manners of higher society. Courts are the best places for that kind of learning. You’re starting with the surface of a court; and there’s no fancier one than that of Saxony. Pay attention and observe its trends and manners so you can compare it with other courts you’ll visit in the future. While you might not be able to grasp the political strategies and principles of that court just yet, you can still take note of its traditions, ceremonies, and overall presentation. At the very least, see everything you can and learn as much as possible by asking questions. Make sure to check out everything at the fair, from operas and plays to the Savoyard's street performances.
Everything is worth seeing once; and the more one sees, the less one either wonders or admires.
Everything is worth seeing at least once; and the more you see, the less you either wonder or admire.
Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him that I have just now received his letter, for which I thank him. I am called away, and my letter is therefore very much shortened. Adieu.
Make sure to pass on my compliments to Mr. Harte and let him know that I just got his letter, which I appreciate. I have to go, so my message is quite brief. Goodbye.
I am impatient to receive your answers to the many questions that I have asked you.
I'm eagerly waiting for your answers to all the questions I've asked you.
LETTER XXXVII
LONDON, April 26, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I am extremely pleased with your continuation of the history of the Reformation; which is one of those important eras that deserves your utmost attention, and of which you cannot be too minutely informed. You have, doubtless, considered the causes of that great event, and observed that disappointment and resentment had a much greater share in it, than a religious zeal or an abhorrence of the errors and abuses of popery.
DEAR BOY: I am very pleased with your ongoing work on the history of the Reformation, an important period that deserves your full attention, and you should be as informed about it as possible. You have likely considered the reasons behind that significant event and noticed that disappointment and resentment played a much larger role than religious passion or a dislike for the mistakes and abuses of the Catholic Church.
Luther, an Augustine monk, enraged that his order, and consequently himself, had not the exclusive privilege of selling indulgences, but that the Dominicans were let into a share of that profitable but infamous trade, turns reformer, and exclaims against the abuses, the corruption, and the idolatry, of the church of Rome; which were certainly gross enough for him to have seen long before, but which he had at least acquiesced in, till what he called the rights, that is, the profit, of his order came to be touched. It is true, the church of Rome furnished him ample matter for complaint and reformation, and he laid hold of it ably.
Luther, an Augustine monk, was furious that his order, and himself, didn’t have the exclusive right to sell indulgences, and that the Dominicans were also getting a piece of that lucrative but notorious business. He became a reformer and spoke out against the abuses, corruption, and idolatry of the Roman Catholic Church; issues that he should have noticed long before but had at least accepted until his order’s financial interests were affected. It's true that the Roman Catholic Church gave him plenty of reasons to complain and seek reform, and he tackled those issues skillfully.
This seems to me the true cause of that great and necessary, work; but whatever the cause was, the effect was good; and the Reformation spread itself by its own truth and fitness; was conscientiously received by great numbers in Germany, and other countries; and was soon afterward mixed up with the politics of princes; and, as it always happens in religious disputes, became the specious covering of injustice and ambition.
This seems to me the real reason for that important and necessary work; but no matter what the cause was, the outcome was positive; the Reformation grew on its own truth and relevance; it was sincerely accepted by many in Germany and other countries; and it was soon entangled with the politics of rulers; and, as often happens in religious conflicts, it became a convenient excuse for injustice and ambition.
Under the pretense of crushing heresy, as it was called, the House of Austria meant to extend and establish its power in the empire; as, on the other hand, many Protestant princes, under the pretense of extirpating idolatry, or at least of securing toleration, meant only to enlarge their own dominions or privileges. These views respectively, among the chiefs on both sides, much more than true religious motives, continued what were called the religious wars in Germany, almost uninterruptedly, till the affairs of the two religions were finally settled by the treaty of Munster.
Under the guise of eliminating heresy, as it was referred to, the House of Austria aimed to expand and solidify its power in the empire. Meanwhile, many Protestant princes, claiming to eliminate idolatry or at least ensure tolerance, were really just looking to increase their own territories or privileges. These motivations, far more than genuine religious concerns, fueled what were known as the religious wars in Germany, which continued almost without pause until the issues between the two religions were ultimately resolved by the treaty of Munster.
Were most historical events traced up to their true causes, I fear we should not find them much more noble or disinterested than Luther’s disappointed avarice; and therefore I look with some contempt upon those refining and sagacious historians, who ascribe all, even the most common events, to some deep political cause; whereas mankind is made up of inconsistencies, and no man acts invariably up to his predominant character. The wisest man sometimes acts weakly, and the weakest sometimes wisely. Our jarring passions, our variable humors, nay, our greater or lesser degree of health and spirits, produce such contradictions in our conduct, that, I believe, those are the oftenest mistaken, who ascribe our actions to the most seemingly obvious motives; and I am convinced, that a light supper, a good night’s sleep, and a fine morning, have sometimes made a hero of the same man, who, by an indigestion, a restless night, and rainy morning, would, have proved a coward. Our best conjectures, therefore, as to the true springs of actions, are but very uncertain; and the actions themselves are all that we must pretend to know from history. That Caesar was murdered by twenty-three conspirators, I make no doubt: but I very much doubt that their love of liberty, and of their country, was their sole, or even principal motive; and I dare say that, if the truth were known, we should find that many other motives at least concurred, even in the great Brutus himself; such as pride, envy, personal pique, and disappointment. Nay, I cannot help carrying my Pyrrhonism still further, and extending it often to historical facts themselves, at least to most of the circumstances with which they are related; and every day’s experience confirms me in this historical incredulity. Do we ever hear the most recent fact related exactly in the same way, by the several people who were at the same time eyewitnesses of it? No. One mistakes, another misrepresents, and others warp it a little to their own, turn of mind, or private views. A man who has been concerned in a transaction will not write it fairly; and a man who has not, cannot. But notwithstanding all this uncertainty, history is not the less necessary to be known, as the best histories are taken for granted, and are the frequent subjects both of conversation and writing. Though I am convinced that Caesar’s ghost never appeared to Brutus, yet I should be much ashamed to be ignorant of that fact, as related by the historians of those times. Thus the Pagan theology is universally received as matter for writing and conversation, though believed now by nobody; and we talk of Jupiter, Mars, Apollo, etc., as gods, though we know, that if they ever existed at all, it was only as mere mortal men. This historical Pyrrhonism, then, proves nothing against the study and knowledge of history; which, of all other studies, is the most necessary for a man who is to live in the world. It only points out to us, not to be too decisive and peremptory; and to be cautious how we draw inferences for our own practice from remote facts, partially or ignorantly related; of which we can, at best, but imperfectly guess, and certainly not know the real motives. The testimonies of ancient history must necessarily be weaker than those of modern, as all testimony grows weaker and weaker, as it is more and more remote from us. I would therefore advise you to study ancient history, in general, as other people, do; that is, not to be ignorant of any or those facts which are universally received, upon the faith of the best historians; and whether true or false, you have them as other people have them. But modern history, I mean particularly that of the last three centuries, is what I would have you apply to with the greatest attention and exactness. There the probability of coming at the truth is much greater, as the testimonies are much more recent; besides, anecdotes, memoirs, and original letters, often come to the aid of modern history. The best memoirs that I know of are those of Cardinal de Retz, which I have once before recommended to you; and which I advise you to read more than once, with attention. There are many political maxims in these memoirs, most of which are printed in italics; pray attend to, and remember them. I never read them but my own experience confirms the truth of them. Many of them seem trifling to people who are not used to business; but those who are, feel the truth of them.
If we traced most historical events back to their true causes, I worry we wouldn't find them much nobler or more selfless than Luther's failed greed. That's why I look down a bit on those clever historians who attribute everything—even the most ordinary events—to some deep political reason; while in reality, people are full of contradictions, and no one always acts according to their main character. Even the smartest person sometimes acts foolishly, and the weakest can act wisely. Our conflicting passions, shifting moods, and even our varying health and energy create such contradictions in our behavior that I believe those who attribute our actions to the most obvious reasons are often mistaken. I’m convinced that a light dinner, a good night’s sleep, and a nice morning can sometimes turn an ordinary person into a hero, while on another day, an upset stomach, a restless night, and a rainy morning could show him as a coward. Thus, our best guesses about the real reasons behind actions are often very uncertain; our actions themselves are all we can claim to know from history. I have no doubt that Caesar was murdered by twenty-three conspirators, but I seriously doubt that their love for freedom and their country were their only or even main motives. I’d wager that, if we knew the truth, we’d find many other motives at play, even in the great Brutus himself, such as pride, envy, personal grievances, and disappointment. I even take my skepticism further, questioning the very facts of history and the many circumstances surrounding them; my daily experiences reinforce this doubt. Do we ever hear the most recent events described exactly the same way by various eyewitnesses? No. One person misremembers, another misrepresents, and others bend the story to fit their own viewpoint or personal agenda. Someone involved in an event isn’t likely to report it fairly, and someone who wasn’t involved simply can’t. Yet despite all this uncertainty, knowing history is still essential, as the best accounts are often taken for granted and frequently discussed and written about. Although I'm sure Caesar's ghost never appeared to Brutus, I would be embarrassed to be uninformed about that story as recounted by the historians of that time. Similarly, Pagan theology is widely accepted for discussion and writing, even though no one believes in it anymore; we talk about gods like Jupiter, Mars, and Apollo, even though we know that if they existed at all, they were just ordinary humans. This historical skepticism doesn’t undermine the study and understanding of history, which is essential for anyone living in the world. It simply reminds us not to be too certain and to be careful about how we draw lessons from distant events that are only partially or inaccurately reported; we can at best guess imperfectly, and we certainly can’t know the real motives. The evidence from ancient history is necessarily weaker than that of modern history, as all evidence becomes less reliable the farther away it is from us. Therefore, I recommend that you study ancient history like everyone else does; that is, don’t ignore facts that are widely accepted based on the credibility of the best historians. Whether true or false, you should know them as others do. However, I especially encourage you to focus on modern history, particularly that of the last three centuries, as the chances of uncovering the truth are much higher, given that the evidence is more recent. Moreover, anecdotes, memoirs, and original letters often enhance modern historical accounts. The best memoirs I know are those of Cardinal de Retz, which I’ve recommended to you before and suggest you read carefully more than once. These memoirs contain many political principles, most of which are printed in italics; please pay attention to them and remember them. Every time I read them, my own experiences affirm their accuracy. Many of them may seem trivial to those not involved in business, but those who are recognize their truth.
It is time to put an end to this long rambling letter; in which if any one thing can be of use to you, it will more than pay the trouble I have taken to write it. Adieu! Yours.
It’s time to wrap up this lengthy letter; if even one part is helpful to you, it will more than make up for the effort I put into writing it. Goodbye! Yours.
LETTER XXXVIII
LONDON, May 10, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I reckon that this letter will find you just returned from Dresden, where you have made your first court caravanne. What inclination for courts this taste of them may have given you, I cannot tell; but this I think myself sure of, from your good sense, that in leaving Dresden, you have left dissipation too; and have resumed at Leipsig that application which, if you like courts, can alone enable you to make a good figure at them. A mere courtier, without parts or knowledge, is the most frivolous and contemptible of all beings; as, on the other hand, a man of parts and knowledge, who acquires the easy and noble manners of a court, is the most perfect. It is a trite, commonplace observation, that courts are the seats of falsehood and dissimulation. That, like many, I might say most, commonplace observations, is false. Falsehood and dissimulation are certainly to be found at courts; but where are they not to be found? Cottages have them, as well as courts; only with worse manners. A couple of neighboring farmers in a village will contrive and practice as many tricks, to over-reach each other at the next market, or to supplant each other in the favor, of the squire, as any two courtiers can do to supplant each other in the favor of their prince.
DEAR BOY: I think this letter will reach you just after you've returned from Dresden, where you've made your first visit to the court. I'm not sure what this experience might have sparked in you regarding your interest in courts, but I'm confident that, given your good judgment, you've left behind the distractions of Dresden and have returned to Leipzig to focus on your studies. If you like courts, that's the only way you can truly shine there. A courtier without talent or knowledge is the most trivial and worthless type of person; on the flip side, someone who is talented and knowledgeable but can also adopt the graceful and dignified mannerisms of court life is truly exceptional. It’s a well-known but clichéd saying that courts are filled with dishonesty and deceit. Like many clichés, this one is misleading. Yes, dishonesty and deceit exist in courts, but where don’t they exist? They can be found in cottages just as easily, only with less sophistication. Two neighboring farmers in a village will come up with just as many schemes to outsmart each other at the next market or win favor with the squire as any two courtiers will to gain the favor of their prince.
Whatever poets may write, or fools believe, of rural innocence and truth, and of the perfidy of courts, this is most undoubtedly true that shepherds and ministers are both men; their nature and passions the same, the modes of them only different.
Whatever poets may write, or fools may believe, about the simplicity and honesty of rural life, and the deceitfulness of courts, it is undeniably true that shepherds and ministers are both human; their nature and passions are the same, only expressed in different ways.
Having mentioned commonplace observations, I will particularly caution you against either using, believing, or approving them. They are the common topics of witlings and coxcombs; those, who really have wit, have the utmost contempt for them, and scorn even to laugh at the pert things that those would-be wits say upon such subjects.
Having pointed out some obvious observations, I want to specifically warn you against using, believing, or supporting them. They are the typical subjects of superficial people and fools; those who truly have wit look down on them and won't even bother to laugh at the snappy things that these wannabe wits say about such topics.
Religion is one of their favorite topics; it is all priest-craft; and an invention contrived and carried on by priests of all religions, for their own power and profit; from this absurd and false principle flow the commonplace, insipid jokes, and insults upon the clergy. With these people, every priest, of every religion, is either a public or a concealed unbeliever, drunkard, and whoremaster; whereas, I conceive, that priests are extremely like other men, and neither the better nor the worse for wearing a gown or a surplice: but if they are different from other people, probably it is rather on the side of religion and morality, or, at least, decency, from their education and manner of life.
Religion is one of their favorite topics; it’s all about the manipulation by priests, an idea cooked up and maintained by religious leaders for their own power and gain. From this ridiculous and false idea come the usual, bland jokes and insults directed at the clergy. For these people, every priest, regardless of their faith, is either a public or secret non-believer, drunk, and promiscuous; however, I believe that priests are much like other people, neither better nor worse for wearing a robe or a cassock. If they are different from others, it’s likely in terms of their commitment to religion and morality, or at least decency, given their education and lifestyles.
Another common topic for false wit, and cool raillery, is matrimony. Every man and his wife hate each other cordially, whatever they may pretend, in public, to the contrary. The husband certainly wishes his wife at the devil, and the wife certainly cuckolds her husband. Whereas, I presume, that men and their wives neither love nor hate each other the more, upon account of the form of matrimony which has been said over them. The cohabitation, indeed, which is the consequence of matrimony, makes them either love or hate more, accordingly as they respectively deserve it; but that would be exactly the same between any man and woman who lived together without being married.
Another common topic for fake humor and casual teasing is marriage. Every couple secretly hates each other, no matter what they might pretend in public. The husband definitely wishes his wife would just go away, and the wife definitely cheats on her husband. I believe that men and their wives don't love or hate each other any more because of the marriage vows they've taken. The living together that comes from marriage either strengthens their love or increases their hatred, depending on how they treat each other; but it would be exactly the same for any man and woman living together without being married.
These and many other commonplace reflections upon nations or professions in general (which are at least as often false as true), are the poor refuge of people who have neither wit nor invention of their own, but endeavor to shine in company by second-hand finery. I always put these pert jackanapes out of countenance, by looking extremely grave, when they expect that I should laugh at their pleasantries; and by saying WELL, AND SO, as if they had not done, and that the sting were still to come. This disconcerts them, as they have no resources in themselves, and have but one set of jokes to live upon. Men of parts are not reduced to these shifts, and have the utmost contempt for them, they find proper subjects enough for either useful or lively conversations; they can be witty without satire or commonplace, and serious without being dull. The frequentation of courts checks this petulancy of manners; the good-breeding and circumspection which are necessary, and only to be learned there, correct those pertnesses. I do not doubt but that you are improved in your manners by the short visit which you have made at Dresden; and the other courts, which I intend that you shall be better acquainted with, will gradually smooth you up to the highest polish. In courts, a versatility of genius and softness of manners are absolutely necessary; which some people mistake for abject flattery, and having no opinion of one’s own; whereas it is only the decent and genteel manner of maintaining your own opinion, and possibly of bringing other people to it. The manner of doing things is often more important than the things themselves; and the very same thing may become either pleasing or offensive, by the manner of saying or doing it. ‘Materiam superabat opus’, is often said of works of sculpture; where though the materials were valuable, as silver, gold, etc., the workmanship was still more so. This holds true, applied to manners; which adorn whatever knowledge or parts people may have; and even make a greater impression upon nine in ten of mankind, than the intrinsic value of the materials. On the other hand, remember, that what Horace says of good writing is justly applicable to those who would make a good figure in courts, and distinguish themselves in the shining parts of life; ‘Sapere est principium et fons’. A man who, without a good fund of knowledge and parts, adopts a court life, makes the most ridiculous figure imaginable. He is a machine, little superior to the court clock; and, as this points out the hours, he points out the frivolous employment of them. He is, at most, a comment upon the clock; and according to the hours that it strikes, tells you now it is levee, now dinner, now supper time, etc. The end which I propose by your education, and which (IF YOU PLEASE) I shall certainly attain, is to unite in you all the knowledge of a scholar with the manners of a courtier; and to join, what is seldom joined by any of my countrymen, books and the world. They are commonly twenty years old before they have spoken to anybody above their schoolmaster, and the fellows of their college. If they happen to have learning, it is only Greek and Latin, but not one word of modern history, or modern languages. Thus prepared, they go abroad, as they call it; but, in truth, they stay at home all that while; for being very awkward, confoundedly ashamed, and not speaking the languages, they go into no foreign company, at least none good; but dine and sup with one another only at the tavern. Such examples, I am sure, you will not imitate, but even carefully avoid. You will always take care to keep the best company in the place where you are, which is the only use of traveling: and (by the way) the pleasures of a gentleman are only to be found in the best company; for that not which low company, most falsely and impudently, call pleasure, is only the sensuality of a swine.
These and many other common opinions about nations or professions in general (which are often just as likely to be false as true) are the feeble fallback of people who lack their own wit or creativity and try to impress others with borrowed charm. I always disrupt these show-offs by appearing very serious when they expect me to laugh at their jokes, and by saying "WELL, AND SO," as if they haven’t finished, leaving them in suspense. This throws them off balance because they have no real resources of their own and rely on one set of jokes. Talented individuals don’t resort to these tactics; they have nothing but disdain for such behavior and can find plenty of proper subjects for either meaningful or entertaining conversations. They can be clever without resorting to satire or clichés and serious without being boring. Exposure to courts tempers this kind of flippant behavior; the good manners and carefulness learned there correct these annoyances. I have no doubt that your brief visit to Dresden has refined your manners, and the other courts that I plan for you to become more familiar with will gradually polish you even more. In courts, a flexible mindset and soft manners are absolutely essential; some people mistake this for groveling and lacking personal opinion, when in fact it’s simply a respectful and elegant way of expressing your views and possibly swaying others to your side. The way you do things is often more important than the things themselves; the same action can be either charming or offensive depending on how it’s done or said. ‘Materiam superabat opus’ is often said about sculptures; even if the materials are precious, like silver or gold, the craftsmanship is even more valuable. This also applies to manners, which enhance whatever knowledge or skills a person has, often leaving a greater impact on the majority of people than the intrinsic worth of the content. On the flip side, remember what Horace says about good writing applies equally to those who want to succeed in court and stand out in the finer aspects of life: ‘Sapere est principium et fons’. A person who lives a court life without solid knowledge and skill is an utter fool. He becomes a machine, hardly more advanced than the court clock; while it marks the hours, he marks the trivial ways they are spent. He’s essentially just a commentary on the clock; and according to its strikes, he tells you when it’s time for the levee, dinner, or supper, etc. The goal I have for your education, which (IF YOU CHOOSE) I’ll definitely achieve, is to combine in you the knowledge of a scholar with the manners of a courtier, merging what is rarely combined among my countrymen: books and the world. They typically don’t start speaking to anyone beyond their schoolmaster and college peers until they’re twenty years old. Even if they have some education, it’s usually just Greek and Latin, with no knowledge of modern history or any modern languages. After this preparation, they go abroad, as they put it; but, truthfully, they stay home the whole time because they feel very awkward, extremely embarrassed, and don’t speak the languages, thus avoiding any decent foreign company and just dining together at the tavern. I’m sure you won’t follow such examples, but will actively steer clear of them. You will always make it a point to keep the best company wherever you are, which is the true purpose of traveling; and, by the way, the pleasures of a gentleman can only be found in the best company, for what low company, most falsely and brazenly, call pleasure is merely the indulgence of a pig.
I ask hard and uninterrupted study from you but one year more; after that, you shall have every day more and more time for your amusements. A few hours each day will then be sufficient for application, and the others cannot be better employed than in the pleasures of good company. Adieu.
I ask you to focus on your studies for just one more year; after that, you'll have more and more time for fun every day. A few hours of studying each day will then be enough, and you can’t spend your time better than enjoying the company of good friends. Goodbye.
LETTER XXXIX
LONDON, May 31, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I received yesterday your letter of the 16th, N. S., and have, in consequence of it, written this day to Sir Charles Williams, to thank him for all the civilities he has shown you. Your first setting out at court has, I find, been very favorable; and his Polish Majesty has distinguished you. I hope you received that mark of distinction with respect and with steadiness, which is the proper behavior of a man of fashion. People of a low, obscure education cannot stand the rays of greatness; they are frightened out of their wits when kings and great men speak to them; they are awkward, ashamed, and do not know what nor how to answer; whereas, ‘les honnetes gens’ are not dazzled by superior rank: they know, and pay all the respect that is due to it; but they do it without being disconcerted; and can converse just as easily with a king as with any one of his subjects. That is the great advantage of being introduced young into good company, and being used early to converse with one’s superiors. How many men have I seen here, who, after having had the full benefit of an English education, first at school, and then at the university, when they have been presented to the king, did not know whether they stood upon their heads or their heels! If the king spoke to them, they were annihilated; they trembled, endeavored to put their hands in their pockets, and missed them; let their hats fall, and were ashamed to take them up; and in short, put themselves in every attitude but the right, that is, the easy and natural one. The characteristic of a well-bred man, is to converse with his inferiors without insolence, and with his superiors with respect and ease. He talks to kings without concern; he trifles with women of the first condition with familiarity, gayety, but respect; and converses with his equals, whether he is acquainted with them or not, upon general common topics, that are not, however, quite frivolous, without the least concern of mind or awkwardness of body: neither of which can appear to advantage, but when they are perfectly easy.
DEAR BOY: I received your letter from the 16th, N.S., yesterday, and as a result, I've written to Sir Charles Williams today to thank him for all the kindness he's shown you. I see that your initial time at court has gone very well; and his Polish Majesty has acknowledged you. I hope you accepted that recognition with the respect and composure that a well-mannered person should show. Those with a low or limited background can’t handle the spotlight of greatness; they become panic-stricken when kings and nobles speak to them; they act awkwardly, feel ashamed, and don't know how to respond. In contrast, 'les honnetes gens' aren’t overwhelmed by higher status: they recognize and give all the respect that it deserves, but they do so without losing their composure; they can chat as easily with a king as they would with any of his subjects. That’s the major benefit of being introduced to good company at a young age and getting used to talking with those above you early on. I’ve seen so many men here who, after receiving a full English education, first at school and then at university, when presented to the king, didn’t know if they were coming or going! If the king spoke to them, they were completely thrown off; they trembled, tried to put their hands in their pockets but missed, let their hats fall, and were too embarrassed to pick them up. In short, they put themselves in every position except the right one, which is the easy and natural one. A well-bred person can talk to those beneath him without rudeness, and with his superiors, he shows respect and ease. He speaks to kings without worry; he converses with women of high status with familiarity and light-heartedness, yet with respect; and he chats with his peers, whether he knows them or not, about general topics that aren’t completely trivial, without the slightest worry or awkwardness in his demeanor: neither of which can come off well unless one is completely at ease.
The tea-things, which Sir Charles Williams has given you, I would have you make a present of to your Mamma, and send them to her by Duval when he returns. You owe her not only duty, but likewise great obligations for her care and tenderness; and, consequently, cannot take too many opportunities of showing your gratitude.
The tea set that Sir Charles Williams gave you, I’d like you to gift to your mom and have Duval deliver it to her when he comes back. You not only owe her respect but also a huge debt for her care and kindness, so you can’t pass up enough chances to show your appreciation.
I am impatient to receive your account of Dresden, and likewise your answers to the many questions that I asked you.
I'm eager to hear your account of Dresden and your answers to the many questions I asked you.
Adieu for this time, and God bless you!
Goodbye for now, and take care!
LETTER XL
LONDON, May 27, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: This and the two next years make so important a period of your life, that I cannot help repeating to you my exhortations, my commands, and (what I hope will be still more prevailing with you than either) my earnest entreaties, to employ them well. Every moment that you now lose, is so much character and advantage lost; as, on the other hand, every moment that you now employ usefully, is so much time wisely laid out, at most prodigious interest. These two years must lay the foundations of all the knowledge that you will ever have; you may build upon them afterward as much as you please, but it will be too late to lay any new ones. Let me beg of you, therefore, to grudge no labor nor pains to acquire, in time, that stock of knowledge, without which you never can rise, but must make a very insignificant figure in the world. Consider your own situation; you have not the advantage of rank or fortune to bear you up; I shall, very probably, be out of the world before you can properly be said to be in it. What then will you have to rely on but your own merit? That alone must raise you, and that alone will raise you, if you have but enough of it. I have often heard and read of oppressed and unrewarded merit, but I have oftener (I might say always) seen great merit make its way, and meet with its reward, to a certain degree at least, in spite of all difficulties. By merit, I mean the moral virtues, knowledge, and manners; as to the moral virtues, I say nothing to you; they speak best for themselves, nor can I suspect that they want any recommendation with you; I will therefore only assure you, that without them you will be most unhappy.
DEAR BOY: The next two years are a crucial time in your life, so I must repeat my advice, my directives, and (what I hope will resonate with you even more) my heartfelt pleas for you to make the most of them. Every moment you waste now is a loss of character and opportunity; conversely, every moment spent productively is time well invested, yielding incredible returns. These two years will lay the groundwork for all the knowledge you'll ever obtain; you can build upon them later as much as you wish, but it will be too late to start fresh foundations. So, please don’t hesitate to put in the effort to acquire the knowledge you need, as without it, you will struggle to succeed and may end up being overlooked in the world. Think about your situation; you don’t have the advantage of status or wealth to support you. I will likely be gone before you truly enter the world. What will you depend on, then, except your own abilities? That's what will elevate you, and it will if you have enough of it. I've often heard about talent that remains unrecognized and unrewarded, but I've more frequently (I could say always) seen true talent break through and receive its due rewards, despite challenges. By talent, I mean moral virtues, knowledge, and social skills; regarding moral virtues, I won’t elaborate; they are self-evident, and I trust you understand their importance. I will simply assure you that without them, you'll find yourself very unhappy.
As to knowledge, I have often told you, and I am persuaded you are thoroughly convinced, how absolutely necessary it is to you, whatever your destination may be. But as knowledge has a most extensive meaning, and as the life of man is not long enough to acquire, nor his mind capable of entertaining and digesting, all parts of knowledge, I will point out those to which you should particularly apply, and which, by application, you may make yourself perfect master of. Classical knowledge, that is, Greek and Latin, is absolutely necessary for everybody; because everybody has agreed to think and to call it so. And the word ILLITERATE, in its common acceptation, means a man who is ignorant of those two languages. You are by this time, I hope, pretty near master of both, so that a small part of the day dedicated to them, for two years more, will make you perfect in that study. Rhetoric, logic, a little geometry, and a general notion of astronomy, must, in their turns, have their hours too; not that I desire you should be deep in any one of these; but it is fit you should know something of them all. The knowledge more particularly useful and necessary for you, considering your destination, consists of modern languages, modern history, chronology, and geography, the laws of nations, and the ‘jus publicum Imperii’. You must absolutely speak all the modern Languages, as purely and correctly as the natives of the respective countries: for whoever does not speak a language perfectly and easily, will never appear to advantage in conversation, nor treat with others in it upon equal terms. As for French, you have it very well already; and must necessarily, from the universal usage of that language, know it better and better every day: so that I am in no pain about that: German, I suppose, you know pretty well by this time, and will be quite master of it before you leave Leipsig: at least, I am sure you may. Italian and Spanish will come in their turns, and, indeed, they are both so easy, to one who knows Latin and French, that neither of them will cost you much time or trouble. Modern history, by which I mean particularly the history of the last three centuries, should be the object of your greatest and constant attention, especially those parts of it which relate more immediately to the great powers of Europe. This study you will carefully connect with chronology and geography; that is, you will remark and retain the dates of every important event; and always read with the map by you, in which you will constantly look for every place mentioned: this is the only way of retaining geography; for, though it is soon learned by the lump, yet, when only so learned, it is still sooner forgot.
Regarding knowledge, I have frequently told you, and I believe you are fully convinced, how essential it is for you, no matter what your future path may be. However, since knowledge has a very broad meaning, and since a person’s life isn’t long enough to master every aspect of it, nor is the mind capable of absorbing and processing it all, I will highlight the topics you should focus on that you can truly master through dedication. Classical knowledge, which refers to Greek and Latin, is absolutely necessary for everyone; it's a widely accepted fact. The term ILLITERATE, in its usual sense, describes someone who doesn’t know those two languages. By now, I hope you’re almost proficient in both, so dedicating a small part of your day to them for two more years will make you an expert in that area. Rhetoric, logic, a bit of geometry, and a general understanding of astronomy should also have their designated time; I don’t expect you to dive deep into any one of those, but it's important for you to know a little about each of them. The knowledge that’s especially useful and necessary for you, considering your future plans, includes modern languages, modern history, chronology, and geography, as well as international laws and the 'jus publicum Imperii'. You must speak all the modern languages as fluently and accurately as the natives do, because if you don’t speak a language perfectly and comfortably, you’ll never come across well in conversation or be able to engage with others on equal footing. As for French, you’ve already grasped it well, and due to its widespread use, you will naturally improve every day, so I'm not worried about that. I assume you’re quite familiar with German by now and will master it before you leave Leipzig; at least, I’m confident you can. Italian and Spanish will follow, and honestly, they’re both so easy for someone who knows Latin and French that they won’t require much time or effort. Modern history, particularly from the last three centuries, should be your main focus, especially the parts relating directly to the major European powers. You should connect this study with chronology and geography; that means you should note and memorize the dates of every significant event, and always read with a map handy, referring to every place mentioned. This is the only effective way to retain geographical knowledge; while it can be learned quickly in bulk, it’s even quicker to forget if it's done that way.
Manners, though the last, and it may be the least ingredient of real merit, are, however, very far from being useless in its composition; they adorn, and give an additional force and luster to both virtue and knowledge. They prepare and smooth the way for the progress of both; and are, I fear, with the bulk of mankind, more engaging than either. Remember, then, the infinite advantage of manners; cultivate and improve your own to the utmost good sense will suggest the great rules to you, good company will do the rest. Thus you see how much you have to do; and how little time to do it in: for when you are thrown out into the world, as in a couple of years you must be, the unavoidable dissipation of company, and the necessary avocations of some kind of business or other, will leave you no time to undertake new branches of knowledge: you may, indeed, by a prudent allotment of your time, reserve some to complete and finish the building; but you will never find enough to lay new foundations. I have such an opinion of your understanding, that I am convinced you are sensible of these truths; and that, however hard and laborious your present uninterrupted application may seem to you, you will rather increase than lessen it. For God’s sake, my dear boy, do not squander away one moment of your time, for every moment may be now most usefully employed. Your future fortune, character, and figure in the world, entirely depend upon your use or abuse of the two next years. If you do but employ them well, what may you not reasonably expect to be, in time? And if you do not, what may I not reasonably fear you will be? You are the only one I ever knew, of this country, whose education was, from the beginning, calculated for the department of foreign affairs; in consequence of which, if you will invariably pursue, and diligently qualify yourself for that object, you may make yourself absolutely necessary to the government, and, after having received orders as a minister abroad, send orders, in your turn, as Secretary of State at home. Most of our ministers abroad have taken up that department occasionally, without having ever thought of foreign affairs before; many of them, without speaking any one foreign language; and all of them without manners which are absolutely necessary toward being well received, and making a figure at foreign courts. They do the business accordingly, that is, very ill: they never get into the secrets of these courts, for want of insinuation and address: they do not guess at their views, for want of knowing their interests: and, at last, finding themselves very unfit for, soon grow weary of their commissions, and are impatient to return home, where they are but too justly laid aside and neglected. Every moment’s conversation may, if you please, be of use to you; in this view, every public event, which is the common topic of conversation, gives you an opportunity of getting some information. For example, the preliminaries of peace, lately concluded at Aix-la-Chapelle, will be the common subject of most conversations; in which you will take care to ask the proper questions: as, what is the meaning of the Assiento contract for negroes, between England and Spain; what the annual ship; when stipulated; upon what account suspended, etc. You will likewise inform yourself about Guastalla, now given to Don Philip, together with Parma and Placentia; who they belonged to before; what claim or pretensions Don Philip had to them; what they are worth; in short, everything concerning them. The cessions made by the Queen of Hungary to the King of Sardinia, are, by these preliminaries, confirmed and secured to him: you will inquire, therefore, what they are, and what they are worth. This is the kind of knowledge which you should be most thoroughly master of, and in which conversation will help you almost as much as books: but both are best. There are histories of every considerable treaty, from that of Westphalia to that of Utrecht, inclusively; all which I would advise you to read. Pore Bougeant’s, of the treaty of Westphalia, is an excellent one; those of Nimeguen, Ryswick, and Utrecht, are not so well written; but are, however, very useful. ‘L’Histoire des Traites de Paix’, in two volumes, folio, which I recommended to you some time ago, is a book that you should often consult, when you hear mention made of any treaty concluded in the seventeenth century.
Manners, even though they might seem the least important part of true merit, are actually far from useless; they enhance and add strength and shine to both virtue and knowledge. They pave the way for growth in both areas; and unfortunately, for most people, manners are often more appealing than either. So, remember the immense benefits of good manners; cultivate and refine your own as much as good sense allows, and the right company will help. You can see how much you need to do and how little time you have to do it: in just a couple of years, you'll be out in the world, and the inevitable distractions of socializing and necessary work will leave you little time for new areas of knowledge. You might, with careful time management, set aside some time to complete your foundation, but you won't find enough to start new ones. I believe in your intelligence, and I’m sure you understand these facts; and even though your current dedication may seem challenging, you will likely find it increases rather than decreases. For heaven's sake, my dear boy, don’t waste a single moment, as every moment can be put to good use right now. Your future success, reputation, and standing in society depend entirely on how you use or misuse the next two years. If you use them wisely, think of what you could become; if you don’t, consider what you might end up being. You are the only person I've known from this country whose education has been specifically designed for a career in foreign affairs; therefore, if you consistently pursue and prepare yourself for that goal, you could become essential to the government and eventually, after serving as a minister abroad, issue commands from your position as Secretary of State at home. Most of our ministers abroad have entered that role on a whim, without prior experience in foreign affairs; many haven’t even learned a foreign language, and all lack the proper manners that are crucial for being well-received and making an impression at foreign courts. As a result, they conduct their business poorly; they never get to know the inner workings of these courts due to a lack of charm and tact; they can’t speculate on their motives because they don’t understand their interests; and eventually, finding themselves unqualified, they quickly grow tired of their roles and wish to return home, where they are rightly overlooked and ignored. Every conversation can be beneficial if you choose to engage—so during discussions on public events, which are common talking points, take the opportunity to gather information. For instance, the recent peace preliminaries concluded at Aix-la-Chapelle will be a major topic; be sure to ask the right questions, like the implications of the Assiento contract for enslaved individuals between England and Spain: what is the annual ship; when it was agreed upon; why it was suspended, etc. You should also learn about Guastalla, now awarded to Don Philip, along with Parma and Placentia; find out who owned them before, what claims or rights Don Philip had to them, what their value is, and basically everything about them. The territory ceded by the Queen of Hungary to the King of Sardinia is confirmed and secured through these preliminaries; therefore, investigate what those are and their worth. This is the knowledge you should master, and conversation will help you almost as much as books; but both are best together. There are histories of every significant treaty, from the Treaty of Westphalia to that of Utrecht; I recommend you read them all. Pore Bougeant’s account of the Treaty of Westphalia is excellent; the ones for Nijmegen, Ryswick, and Utrecht are not as well written but still very useful. 'L’Histoire des Traites de Paix,' in two folio volumes, which I suggested to you some time ago, is a book you should refer to frequently whenever a treaty from the seventeenth century is mentioned.
Upon the whole, if you have a mind to be considerable, and to shine hereafter, you must labor hard now. No quickness of parts, no vivacity, will do long, or go far, without a solid fund of knowledge; and that fund of knowledge will amply repay all the pains that you can take in acquiring it. Reflect seriously, within yourself, upon all this, and ask yourself whether I can have any view, but your interest, in all that I recommend to you. It is the result of my experience, and flows from that tenderness and affection with which, while you deserve them, I shall be, Yours.
Overall, if you want to be significant and make an impact in the future, you need to put in hard work now. No amount of quick thinking or flair will last or take you far without a strong foundation of knowledge, and that knowledge will greatly reward all the effort you invest in gaining it. Take some time to seriously reflect on this and ask yourself if I have any intention other than your best interest in everything I suggest to you. This comes from my experience and from the care and affection I will always have for you as long as you deserve it. Yours.
Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him that I have received his letter of the 24th, N. S.
Make sure to pass on my regards to Mr. Harte, and let him know that I got his letter from the 24th, N. S.
LETTER XLI
LONDON, May 31, O. S. 1748
DEAR BOY: I have received, with great satisfaction, your letter of the 28th N. S., from Dresden: it finishes your short but clear account of the Reformation which is one of those interesting periods of modern history, that can not be too much studied nor too minutely known by you. There are many great events in history, which, when once they are over, leave things in the situation in which they found them. As, for instance, the late war; which, excepting the establishment in Italy for Don Philip, leave things pretty much in state quo; a mutual restitution of all acquisitions being stipulated by the preliminaries of the peace. Such events undoubtedly deserve your notice, but yet not so minutely as those, which are not only important in themselves, but equally (or it may be more) important by their consequences too: of this latter sort were the progress of the Christian religion in Europe; the Invasion of the Goths; the division of the Roman empire into Western and Eastern; the establishment and rapid progress of Mahometanism; and, lastly, the Reformation; all which events produced the greatest changes in the affairs of Europe, and to one or other of which, the present situation of all the parts of it is to be traced up.
DEAR BOY: I was very pleased to receive your letter dated the 28th N. S. from Dresden. It wraps up your brief but clear overview of the Reformation, which is one of those fascinating periods in modern history that you can never study too much or know too well. There are many significant events in history that, once they’re over, leave things mostly unchanged. For example, the recent war; aside from establishing Don Philip in Italy, it has left situations pretty much the same, with a mutual return of all acquisitions agreed upon in the peace preliminaries. Such events certainly deserve your attention, but not as closely as those that are not only important in their own right but also crucial for their consequences. Some examples of this latter category include the spread of Christianity in Europe, the invasion of the Goths, the division of the Roman Empire into Western and Eastern halves, the rise and swift spread of Islam, and, finally, the Reformation. All of these events caused the most significant changes in the affairs of Europe, and the current status of its various parts can be traced back to one or more of them.
Next to these, are those events which more immediately effect particular states and kingdoms, and which are reckoned entirely local, though their influence may, and indeed very often does, indirectly, extend itself further, such as civil wars and revolutions, from which a total change in the form of government frequently flows. The civil wars in England, in the reign of King Charles I., produced an entire change of the government here, from a limited monarchy to a commonwealth, at first, and afterward to absolute power, usurped by Cromwell, under the pretense of protection, and the title of Protector.
Next to these are events that affect specific states and kingdoms more directly, which are considered entirely local, even though their influence can, and often does, extend further indirectly, like civil wars and revolutions, which often lead to a complete change in the form of government. The civil wars in England during King Charles I's reign resulted in a complete change in government here, moving from a limited monarchy to a commonwealth at first, and later to absolute power, taken over by Cromwell under the guise of protection, with the title of Protector.
The Revolution in 1688, instead of changing, preserved one form of government; which King James II. intended to subvert, and establish absolute power in the Crown.
The Revolution in 1688, instead of bringing change, maintained one type of government that King James II intended to overthrow in order to establish absolute power in the Crown.
These are the two great epochs in our English history, which I recommend to your particular attention.
These are the two significant periods in our English history that I suggest you pay special attention to.
The league formed by the House of Guise, and fomented by the artifices of Spain, is a most material part of the history of France. The foundation of it was laid in the reign of Henry II., but the superstructure was carried on through the successive reigns of Francis II., Charles IX. and Henry III., till at last it was crushed, partly, by the arms, but more by the apostasy of Henry IV.
The league created by the House of Guise, and fueled by the schemes of Spain, is a significant part of French history. Its foundation was established during Henry II's reign, but it continued to develop through the reigns of Francis II, Charles IX, and Henry III, until it was ultimately defeated, largely through military action, but even more so by Henry IV's defection.
In Germany, great events have been frequent, by which the imperial dignity has always either gotten or lost; and so it they have affected the constitution of the empire. The House of Austria kept that dignity to itself for near two hundred years, during which time it was always attempting extend its power, by encroaching upon the rights and privileges of the other states of the empire; till at the end of the bellum tricennale, the treaty of Munster, of which France is guarantee, fixed the respective claims.
In Germany, significant events have often occurred that have either strengthened or weakened the imperial authority, impacting the structure of the empire. The House of Austria held onto that authority for nearly two hundred years, during which time it consistently tried to expand its power by infringing on the rights and privileges of other states within the empire. However, at the end of the Thirty Years' War, the Treaty of Münster, which France guarantees, established the respective claims.
Italy has been constantly torn to pieces, from the time of the Goths, by the Popes and the Anti-popes, severally supported by other great powers of Europe, more as their interests than as their religion led them; by the pretensions also of France, and the House of Austria, upon Naples, Sicily, and the Milanese; not to mention the various lesser causes of squabbles there, for the little states, such as Ferrara, Parma, Montserrat, etc.
Italy has been continuously torn apart, from the time of the Goths, by the Popes and the Anti-popes, each backed by other major European powers, driven more by their own interests than by religious beliefs; also by the ambitions of France and the House of Austria over Naples, Sicily, and Milan; not to mention the various smaller conflicts involving minor states like Ferrara, Parma, Montserrat, and others.
The Popes, till lately, have always taken a considerable part, and had great influence in the affairs of Europe; their excommunications, bulls, and indulgences, stood instead of armies in the time of ignorance and bigotry; but now that mankind is better informed, the spiritual authority of the Pope is not only less regarded, but even despised by the Catholic princes themselves; and his Holiness is actually little more than Bishop of Rome, with large temporalities, which he is not likely to keep longer than till the other greater powers in Italy shall find their conveniency in taking them from him. Among the modern Popes, Leo the Tenth, Alexander the Sixth, and Sextus Quintus, deserve your particular notice; the first, among other things, for his own learning and taste, and for his encouragement of the reviving arts and sciences in Italy. Under his protection, the Greek and Latin classics were most excellently translated into Italian; painting flourished and arrived at its perfection; and sculpture came so near the ancients, that the works of his time, both in marble and bronze, are now called Antico-Moderno.
The Popes, until recently, have always played a significant role and had considerable influence in European affairs; their excommunications, papal bulls, and indulgences acted as substitutes for armies during times of ignorance and prejudice. However, now that people are more knowledgeable, the spiritual authority of the Pope is not only less respected but even looked down upon by Catholic leaders themselves. His Holiness is now little more than the Bishop of Rome, with substantial properties that he is unlikely to hold onto for much longer, as the larger powers in Italy may find it beneficial to take them from him. Among the recent Popes, Leo the Tenth, Alexander the Sixth, and Sextus Quintus deserve special mention; the first one, among other things, for his own knowledge and taste, and for his support of the revival of arts and sciences in Italy. Under his patronage, the Greek and Latin classics were beautifully translated into Italian; painting flourished and reached its peak; and sculpture became so reminiscent of the ancients that the works from his era, both in marble and bronze, are now referred to as Antico-Moderno.
Alexander the Sixth, together with his natural son Caesar Borgia, was famous for his wickedness, in which he, and his son too, surpassed all imagination. Their lives are well worth your reading. They were poisoned themselves by the poisoned wine which they had prepared for others; the father died of it, but Caesar recovered.
Alexander the Sixth, along with his illegitimate son Caesar Borgia, was notorious for their evil deeds, surpassing all imagination. Their lives are definitely worth reading about. They were poisoned by the tainted wine they had prepared for others; the father succumbed to it, but Caesar survived.
Sixtus the Fifth was the son of a swineherd, and raised himself to the popedom by his abilities: he was a great knave, but an able and singular one.
Sixtus the Fifth was the son of a pig herder and worked his way up to becoming pope through his talents: he was quite a rascal, but a skilled and unique one.
Here is history enough for to-day: you shall have some more soon. Adieu.
Here’s enough history for today: you'll get more soon. Goodbye.
LETTER XLII
LONDON, June 21, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: Your very bad enunciation runs so much in my head, and gives me such real concern, that it will be the subject of this, and, I believe, of many more letters. I congratulate both you and myself, that, was informed of it (as I hope) in time to prevent it: and shall ever think myself, as hereafter you will, I am sure think yourself, infinitely obliged to Sir Charles Williams for informing me of it. Good God! if this ungraceful and disagreeable manner of speaking had, either by your negligence or mine, become habitual to you, as in a couple of years more it would have been, what a figure would you have made in company, or in a public assembly? Who would have liked you in the one or attended you; in the other? Read what Cicero and Quintilian say of enunciation, and see what a stress they lay upon the gracefulness of it; nay, Cicero goes further, and even maintains, that a good figure is necessary for an orator; and particularly that he must not be vastus, that is, overgrown and clumsy. He shows by it that he knew mankind well, and knew the powers of an agreeable figure and a graceful, manner. Men, as well as women, are much oftener led by their hearts than by their understandings. The way to the heart is through the senses; please their eyes and their ears and the work is half done. I have frequently known a man’s fortune decided for ever by his first address. If it is pleasing, people are hurried involuntarily into a persuasion that he has a merit, which possibly he has not; as, on the other hand, if it is ungraceful, they are immediately prejudiced against him, and unwilling to allow him the merit which it may be he has. Nor is this sentiment so unjust and unreasonable as at first it may seem; for if a man has parts, he must know of what infinite consequence it is to him to have a graceful manner of speaking, and a genteel and pleasing address; he will cultivate and improve them to the utmost. Your figure is a good one; you have no natural defect in the organs of speech; your address may be engaging, and your manner of speaking graceful, if you will; so that if you are not so, neither I nor the world can ascribe it to anything but your want of parts. What is the constant and just observation as to all actors upon the stage? Is it not, that those who have the best sense, always speak the best, though they may happen not to have the best voices? They will speak plainly, distinctly, and with the proper emphasis, be their voices ever so bad. Had Roscius spoken QUICK, THICK, and UNGRACEFULLY, I will answer for it, that Cicero would not have thought him worth the oration which he made in his favor. Words were given us to communicate our ideas by: and there must be something inconceivably absurd in uttering them in such a manner as that either people cannot understand them, or will not desire to understand them. I tell you, truly and sincerely, that I shall judge of your parts by your speaking gracefully or ungracefully. If you have parts, you will never be at rest till you have brought yourself to a habit of speaking most gracefully; for I aver, that it is in your power —You will desire Mr. Harte, that you may read aloud to him every day; and that he will interrupt and correct you every time that you read too fast, do not observe the proper stops, or lay a wrong emphasis. You will take care to open your teeth when you speak; to articulate every word distinctly; and to beg of Mr. Harte, Mr. Eliot, or whomsoever you speak to, to remind and stop you, if you ever fall into the rapid and unintelligible mutter. You will even read aloud to yourself, and time your utterance to your own ear; and read at first much slower than you need to do, in order to correct yourself of that shameful trick of speaking faster than you ought. In short, if you think right, you will make it your business; your study, and your pleasure to speak well. Therefore, what I have said in this, and in my last, is more than sufficient, if you have sense; and ten times more would not be sufficient, if you have not; so here I rest it.
DEAR BOY: Your really poor way of speaking has been on my mind a lot, and it's concerning enough that it will be the topic of this letter, and probably many more. I'm happy for both you and me that I found out about it (as I hope) in time to fix it: I will always feel grateful to Sir Charles Williams for letting me know. Good grief! If this awkward and unpleasant way of speaking had, through either your negligence or mine, become a habit for you, as it would have in just a couple more years, how would you have managed in social situations or public gatherings? Who would have liked you in one or wanted to be around you in the other? Read what Cicero and Quintilian say about speaking well, and see how much importance they place on it sounding graceful; Cicero even argues that a good appearance is essential for a speaker, especially that he shouldn’t be vastus—that is, overgrown and clumsy. This shows that he understood people well and recognized the impact of a pleasing appearance and graceful manner. People, whether men or women, are often guided by their emotions rather than their minds. The way to connect with someone's heart is through their senses; if you please their eyes and ears, you've already made significant progress. I've often seen a person's future determined by their initial presentation. If it’s appealing, people are quickly persuaded to believe they have qualities they might not even possess; on the other hand, if it’s awkward, they immediately hold a bias against them and may overlook any real merit they might have. This feeling isn’t as unreasonable as it may seem at first; if someone is talented, they must realize how crucial it is to have a graceful way of speaking and a charming demeanor; they will work to develop and enhance these skills to the fullest. You have a good appearance; there’s no natural defect in your ability to speak; your manner can be engaging, and your way of speaking graceful, if you choose to make it so. If you're not, then neither I nor the world can attribute it to anything other than your lack of effort. What is the consistent point made about all stage actors? Isn’t it true that those with the best sense always deliver the best performances, even if they don’t have the best voices? They manage to speak clearly, distinctly, and with the right emphasis, regardless of how poor their voices may be. Had Roscius spoken quickly, thickly, and awkwardly, I assure you, Cicero wouldn’t have found him worthy of the speech he made in his praise. Words were given to us to share our thoughts: there’s something incredibly absurd about expressing them in a way that people can’t understand or wouldn’t want to. I genuinely and sincerely tell you that I will judge your talent based on your level of grace in speaking. If you are talented, you won't feel comfortable until you develop a habit of speaking gracefully; I confidently state that it's within your power to do so. You should ask Mr. Harte to let you read aloud to him every day, and he should stop and correct you each time you read too fast, forget the proper pauses, or emphasize the wrong words. You need to make sure to open your mouth when you speak, enunciate each word clearly, and ask Mr. Harte, Mr. Eliot, or anyone you're speaking to, to remind you and interrupt you if you slip into rapid and unintelligible mumbling. You should also read aloud to yourself, pacing your speech to what sounds right to you; start off reading much slower than necessary to correct that awful habit of speaking too fast. In short, if you think correctly, you'll make it your mission, study, and enjoyment to speak well. So, everything I’ve stated here and in my previous letter is more than enough, if you have any sense; and ten times more wouldn’t be enough if you don’t; so I’ll leave it at that.
Next to graceful speaking, a genteel carriage, and a graceful manner of presenting yourself, are extremely necessary, for they are extremely engaging: and carelessness in these points is much more unpardonable in a young fellow than affectation. It shows an offensive indifference about pleasing. I am told by one here, who has seen you lately, that you are awkward in your motions, and negligent of your person: I am sorry for both; and so will you be, when it will be too late, if you continue so some time longer. Awkwardness of carriage is very alienating; and a total negligence of dress and air is an impertinent insult upon custom and fashion. You remember Mr.———very well, I am sure, and you must consequently remember his, extreme awkwardness: which, I can assure you, has been a great clog to his parts and merit, that have, with much difficulty, but barely counterbalanced it at last. Many, to whom I have formerly commended him, have answered me, that they were sure he could not have parts, because he was so awkward: so much are people, as I observed to you before, taken by the eye. Women have great influence as to a man’s fashionable character; and an awkward man will never have their votes; which, by the way, are very numerous, and much oftener counted than weighed. You should therefore give some attention to your dress, and the gracefulness of your motions. I believe, indeed, that you have no perfect model for either at Leipsig, to form yourself upon; but, however, do not get a habit of neglecting either; and attend properly to both, when you go to courts, where they are very necessary, and where you will have good masters and good models for both. Your exercises of riding, fencing, and dancing, will civilize and fashion your body and your limbs, and give you, if you will but take it, ‘l’air d’un honnete homme’.
Alongside smooth speaking, a polished demeanor and an elegant way of presenting yourself are really important because they are very appealing. Being careless in these areas is far less acceptable for a young man than being overly dramatic. It conveys a troubling indifference to making a good impression. I've heard from someone here who saw you recently that you're clumsy in your movements and neglectful of your appearance. I'm sorry to hear that, and you'll regret it when it’s too late if you keep this up. Clumsiness can be very off-putting, and total disregard for how you dress and carry yourself is a disrespectful affront to social norms. You surely remember Mr.———, and his extreme awkwardness which, I assure you, has significantly hindered his talents and merits, which he has only barely managed to offset. Many people I've recommended him to have responded that they were certain he couldn’t be talented because of his awkwardness—people are indeed, as I've told you before, very influenced by first impressions. Women have a significant impact on a man’s reputation, and an awkward guy will never win their support, which is, by the way, often more about quantity than quality. Therefore, you should pay some attention to your clothing and the elegance of your movements. While I believe there isn’t a perfect model for either at Leipzig for you to follow, don't develop a habit of neglecting either one; instead, maintain focus on both when you attend court, where they are essential, and where you will find good teachers and examples for both. Your practice in riding, fencing, and dancing will refine your body and movements, giving you, if you embrace it, the air of a true gentleman.
I will now conclude with suggesting one reflection to you; which is, that you should be sensible of your good fortune, in having one who interests himself enough in you, to inquire into your faults, in order to inform you of them. Nobody but myself would be so solicitous, either to know or correct them; so that you might consequently be ignorant of them yourself; for our own self-love draws a thick veil between us and our faults. But when you hear yours from me, you may be sure that you hear them from one who for your sake only desires to correct them; from one whom you cannot suspect of any, partiality but in your favor; and from one who heartily wishes that his care of you, as a father, may, in a little time, render every care unnecessary but that of a friend. Adieu.
I’ll wrap up by suggesting something for you to think about: be aware of how fortunate you are to have someone who cares enough about you to point out your faults so you can improve. No one else would be as concerned about knowing or correcting them, so you might stay unaware of them. Our own self-love creates a barrier between us and our faults. But when you hear your faults from me, you can trust that I’m only trying to help you correct them; you can’t suspect that I have any bias except wanting the best for you. I genuinely hope that my care for you, as a father would, soon makes it so you only need the care of a friend. Goodbye.
P. S. I condole with you for the untimely and violent death of the tuneful Matzel.
P.S. I’m really sorry to hear about the sudden and tragic death of the talented Matzel.
LETTER XLIII
LONDON, July 1, O. S. 1748.
DEAR Boy: I am extremely well pleased with the course of studies which Mr. Harte informs me you are now in, and with the degree of application which he assures me you have to them. It is your interest to do so, as the advantage will be all your own. My affection for you makes me both wish and endeavor that you may turn out well; and, according as you do turn out, I shall either be proud or ashamed of you. But as to mere interest, in the common acceptation of that word, it would be mine that you should turn out ill; for you may depend upon it, that whatever you have from me shall be most exactly proportioned to your desert. Deserve a great deal, and you shall have a great deal; deserve a little, and you shall have but a little; and be good for nothing at all, and, I assure you, you shall have nothing at all.
DEAR Boy: I am very pleased with the studies that Mr. Harte tells me you are pursuing, and with the level of commitment he says you have. It's in your best interest to apply yourself, as the benefits will be entirely yours. My affection for you makes me want and try for you to succeed; based on how you turn out, I will either feel proud or ashamed of you. However, if we talk about simple self-interest, I would actually prefer for you to fail; because you can count on the fact that whatever you get from me will match your efforts. If you earn a lot, you'll receive a lot; if you earn a little, you'll receive a little; and if you show no worth at all, I assure you, you will get nothing at all.
Solid knowledge, as I have often told you, is the first and great foundation of your future fortune and character; for I never mention to you the two much greater points of Religion and Morality, because I cannot possibly suspect you as to either of them. This solid knowledge you are in a fair way of acquiring; you may, if you please; and I will add, that nobody ever had the means of acquiring it more in their power than you have. But remember, that manners must adorn knowledge, and smooth its way through the world. Like a great rough diamond, it may do very well in a closet by way of curiosity, and also for its intrinsic value; but it will never be worn or shine if it is not polished. It is upon this article, I confess, that I suspect you the most, which makes me recur to it so often; for I fear that you are apt to show too little attention to everybody, and too much contempt to many. Be convinced, that there are no persons so insignificant and inconsiderable, but may, some time or other, have it in their power to be of use to you; which they certainly will not, if you have once shown them contempt. Wrongs are often forgiven; but contempt never is. Our pride remembers it forever. It implies a discovery of weaknesses, which we are much more careful to conceal than crimes. Many a man will confess his crimes to a common friend, but I never knew a man who would tell his silly weaknesses to his most intimate one—as many a friend will tell us our faults without reserve, who will not so much as hint at our follies; that discovery is too mortifying to our self-love, either to tell another, or to be told of one’s self. You must, therefore, never expect to hear of your weaknesses, or your follies, from anybody but me; those I will take pains to discover, and whenever I do, shall tell you of them.
Solid knowledge, as I've often said, is the essential foundation for your future success and character. I don’t bring up the much more important topics of religion and morality because I have complete confidence in you regarding those. You’re well on your way to gaining that solid knowledge; you have every opportunity to do so, more than most people ever will. But keep in mind that good manners need to complement knowledge and help it find its way in the world. Like a big rough diamond, it might look interesting in a drawer for its worth, but it won’t be worn or shine if it isn’t polished. I admit I have concerns about this area, which is why I bring it up so often; I worry that you sometimes show too little attention to others and too much disdain for many. Understand that there are no people so insignificant that they can’t be of help to you at some point; they definitely won’t if you’ve shown them contempt. People often forgive wrongs, but they never forgive contempt. Our pride holds onto it forever. It reveals vulnerabilities that we’re much more careful to hide than actual wrongdoings. Many men will confess their crimes to a friend, but I’ve never known anyone who would share their petty weaknesses with even their closest confidants; plenty of friends will point out our faults openly, yet won’t bring up our quirks—those revelations are too damaging to our self-esteem, whether we share them or someone else brings them up. Therefore, you should never expect to hear about your weaknesses or foolishness from anyone but me; I’ll make an effort to uncover them, and whenever I do, I’ll let you know.
Next to manners are exterior graces of person and address, which adorn manners, as manners adorn knowledge. To say that they please, engage, and charm, as they most indisputably do, is saying that one should do everything possible to acquire them. The graceful manner of speaking is, particularly, what I shall always holloa in your ears, as Hotspur holloaed MORTIMER to Henry IV., and, like him too, I have aimed to have a starling taught to say, SPEAK DISTINCTLY AND GRACEFULLY, and send him you, to replace your loss of the unfortunate Matzel, who, by the way, I am told, spoke his language very distinctly and gracefully.
Next to good manners are the outward traits and style that enhance manners, just as manners enhance knowledge. It's clear that they are pleasing, engaging, and charming, and acknowledging that means one should strive to acquire them. The graceful way of speaking is, in particular, what I will always emphasize to you, just as Hotspur called out to MORTIMER in Henry IV. Likewise, I've tried to teach a starling to say, "SPEAK DISTINCTLY AND GRACEFULLY," and I plan to send him to you to make up for the loss of the unfortunate Matzel, who, by the way, I hear spoke his language very distinctly and gracefully.
As by this time you must be able to write German tolerably well, I desire that you will not fail to write a German letter, in the German character, once every fortnight, to Mr. Grevenkop: which will make it more familiar to you, and enable me to judge how you improve in it.
Since you should be able to write German fairly well by now, I would like you to make sure to write a German letter, in the German script, once every two weeks to Mr. Grevenkop. This will make it more familiar to you and allow me to see how you're improving.
Do not forget to answer me the questions, which I asked you a great while ago, in relation to the constitution of Saxony; and also the meaning of the words ‘Landsassii and Amptsassii’.
Do not forget to answer the questions I asked you a long time ago about the constitution of Saxony, and also the meaning of the terms 'Landsassii and Amptsassii.'
I hope you do not forget to inquire into the affairs of trade and commerce, nor to get the best accounts you can of the commodities and manufactures, exports and imports of the several countries where you may be, and their gross value.
I hope you remember to look into trade and business matters, and to gather the best information you can about the goods and products, exports and imports of the different countries you might be in, as well as their total value.
I would likewise have you attend to the respective coins, gold, silver, copper, etc., and their value, compared with our coin’s; for which purpose I would advise you to put up, in a separate piece of paper, one piece of every kind, wherever you shall be, writing upon it the name and the value. Such a collection will be curious enough in itself; and that sort of knowledge will be very useful to you in your way of business, where the different value of money often comes in question.
I also want you to pay attention to the different coins—gold, silver, copper, etc.—and their value compared to our currency. For this, I suggest you create a separate paper where you note one piece of each type of coin you come across, writing down the name and the value. This collection will be interesting on its own, and that knowledge will be really helpful in your line of work, especially when the value of money varies.
I am doing to Cheltenham to-morrow, less for my health; which is pretty good, than for the dissipation and amusement of the journey. I shall stay about a fortnight.
I’m going to Cheltenham tomorrow, not really for my health, which is pretty good, but for the fun and enjoyment of the trip. I’ll be staying for about two weeks.
L’Abbe Mably’s ‘Droit de l’Europe’, which Mr. Harte is so kind as to send me, is worth your reading. Adieu.
L'Abbe Mably’s ‘Droit de l’Europe,’ which Mr. Harte kindly sent me, is worth your time to read. Goodbye.
LETTER XLIV.
CHELTENHAM, July 6, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: Your school-fellow, Lord Pulteney,—[Only child of the Right Hon. William Pulteney, Earl of Bath. He died before his father.]—set out last week for Holland, and will, I believe, be at Leipsig soon after this letter: you will take care to be extremely civil to him, and to do him any service that you can while you stay there; let him know that I wrote to you to do so. As being older, he should know more than you; in that case, take pains to get up to him; but if he does not, take care not to let him feel his inferiority. He will find it out of himself without your endeavors; and that cannot be helped: but nothing is more insulting, more mortifying and less forgiven, than avowedly to take pains to make a man feel a mortifying inferiority in knowledge, rank, fortune, etc. In the two last articles, it is unjust, they not being in his power: and in the first it is both ill-bred and ill-natured. Good-breeding, and good-nature, do incline us rather to raise and help people up to ourselves, than to mortify and depress them, and, in truth, our own private interest concurs in it, as it is making ourselves so many friends, instead of so many enemies. The constant practice of what the French call ‘les Attentions’, is a most necessary ingredient in the art of pleasing; they flatter the self-love of those to whom they are shown; they engage, they captivate, more than things of much greater importance. The duties of social life every man is obliged to discharge; but these attentions are voluntary acts, the free-will offerings of good-breeding and good nature; they are received, remembered, and returned as such. Women, particularly, have a right to them; and any omission in that respect is downright ill-breeding.
DEAR BOY: Your schoolmate, Lord Pulteney, [Only child of the Right Hon. William Pulteney, Earl of Bath. He died before his father.] set off for Holland last week and will, I believe, be in Leipzig soon after you get this letter. Make sure to be very polite to him and help him out however you can while you are there; let him know that I asked you to do this. Since he is older, he should know more than you; in that case, try to catch up to him, but if he doesn’t, make sure not to let him feel inferior. He will realize it on his own without your help, and that can’t be changed. But nothing is more insulting, more humiliating, and less forgivable than deliberately trying to make someone feel inferior in knowledge, status, wealth, etc. In the last two areas, it’s unfair since they’re beyond his control; and in the first, it’s just rude and unkind. Good manners and good nature should lead us to lift others up to our level rather than bring them down. In fact, it benefits us personally as it creates more friends instead of enemies. Consistently practicing what the French call ‘les Attentions’ is essential in the art of being liked; these gestures flatter the self-esteem of those they’re shown to and engage them more than things of much greater importance. Every person has a duty to participate in social life, but these attentions are voluntary acts, the freely given gifts of good manners and kindness; they are received, remembered, and reciprocated as such. Women, in particular, have a right to these gestures, and failing to provide them is just plain rude.
Do you employ your whole time in the most useful manner? I do not mean, do you study all day long? nor do I require it. But I mean, do you make the most of the respective allotments of your time? While you study, is it with attention? When you divert yourself, is it with spirit? Your diversions may, if you please, employ some part of your time very usefully. It depends entirely upon the nature of them. If they are futile and frivolous it is time worse than lost, for they will give you an habit of futility. All gaming, field-sports, and such sort of amusements, where neither the understanding nor the senses have the least share, I look upon as frivolous, and as the resources of little minds, who either do not think, or do not love to think. But the pleasures of a man of parts either flatter the senses or improve the mind; I hope at least, that there is not one minute of the day in which you do nothing at all. Inaction at your age is unpardonable.
Are you using your time in the best way possible? I don’t mean, do you study all day? That’s not what I’m looking for. Instead, I want to know if you’re making the most of your time. When you study, are you focused? When you relax, are you engaged? Your leisure activities can, if you choose, be quite valuable. It all depends on what you do. If they’re pointless and trivial, it’s time wasted, because they’ll lead you to a habit of emptiness. I view all games, field sports, and similar pastimes, where neither your mind nor your senses are involved, as trivial, a sign of shallow thinking from those who either don’t think or don’t enjoy thinking. But the interests of a thoughtful person either appeal to the senses or enhance the mind; I hope that at least, there’s not a single minute of your day when you do nothing. Being inactive at your age is inexcusable.
Tell me what Greek and Latin books you can now read with ease. Can you open Demosthenes at a venture, and understand him? Can you get through an “Oration” of Cicero, or a “Satire” of Horace, without difficulty? What German books do you read, to make yourself master of that language? And what French books do you read for your amusement? Pray give me a particular and true account of all this; for I am not indifferent as to any one thing that relates to you. As, for example, I hope you take great care to keep your whole person, particularly your mouth, very clean; common decency requires it, besides that great cleanliness is very conducive to health. But if you do not keep your mouth excessively clean, by washing it carefully every morning, and after every meal, it will not only be apt to smell, which is very disgusting and indecent, but your teeth will decay and ache, which is both a great loss and a great pain. A spruceness of dress is also very proper and becoming at your age; as the negligence of it implies an indifference about pleasing, which does not become a young fellow. To do whatever you do at all to the utmost perfection, ought to be your aim at this time of your life; if you can reach perfection, so much the better; but at least, by attempting it, you will get much nearer than if you never attempted it at all.
Tell me which Greek and Latin books you can read easily now. Can you open Demosthenes randomly and understand him? Can you get through a “Speech” by Cicero or a “Satire” by Horace without any trouble? What German books are you reading to master the language? And what French books do you read for fun? Please give me a detailed and honest account of all this; I care about everything that relates to you. For example, I hope you are careful to keep your entire person, especially your mouth, very clean; it's just decent, plus being really clean is good for your health. If you don't keep your mouth clean by washing it properly every morning and after every meal, it will not only smell, which is very unpleasant and inappropriate, but your teeth will decay and hurt, which is both a significant loss and a lot of pain. Looking sharp in your clothes is also very appropriate and fitting for your age; neglecting it suggests a lack of interest in pleasing others, which doesn’t suit a young person. Your goal at this stage in your life should be to do everything to the best of your ability; if you can achieve perfection, that’s great; but at the very least, by striving for it, you'll get much closer than if you never tried at all.
Adieu! SPEAK GRACEFULLY AND DISTINCTLY if you intend to converse ever with, Yours.
Adieu! SPEAK CLEARLY AND DISTINCTLY if you ever want to talk with, Yours.
P. S. As I was making up my letter, I received yours of the 6th, O. S. I like your dissertation upon Preliminary Articles and Truces. Your definitions of both are true. Those are matters which I would have you be master of; they belong to your future department, But remember too, that they are matters upon which you will much oftener have occasion to speak than to write; and that, consequently, it is full as necessary to speak gracefully and distinctly upon them as to write clearly and elegantly. I find no authority among the ancients, nor indeed among the moderns, for indistinct and unintelligible utterance. The Oracles indeed meant to be obscure; but then it was by the ambiguity of the expression, and not by the inarticulation of the words. For if people had not thought, at least, they understood them, they would neither have frequented nor presented them as they did. There was likewise among the ancients, and is still among the moderns, a sort of people called Ventriloqui, who speak from their bellies, on make the voice seem to come from some other part of the room than that where they are. But these Ventriloqui speak very distinctly and intelligibly. The only thing, then, that I can find like a precedent for your way of speaking (and I would willingly help you to one if I could) is the modern art ‘de persifler’, practiced with great success by the ‘Petits maitres’ at Paris. This noble art consists in picking out some grave, serious man, who neither understands nor expects, raillery, and talking to him very quick, and inarticulate sounds; while the man, who thinks that he did not hear well; or attend sufficiently, says, ‘Monsieur? or ‘Plait-il’? a hundred times; which affords matter of much mirth to those ingenious gentlemen. Whether you would follow, this precedent, I submit to you.
P. S. As I was finishing up my letter, I received yours from the 6th, O. S. I really like your discussion on Preliminary Articles and Truces. Your definitions of both are accurate. These are topics I want you to master; they are part of your future field. But remember, you will have more opportunities to speak about them than to write about them; therefore, it’s just as important to speak gracefully and clearly as it is to write well. I haven’t found any authority among the ancients, or even in modern times, for unclear and unintelligible speech. The Oracles intended to be ambiguous, but that was through the vagueness of their words, not because they spoke unclearly. If people didn’t at least think they understood them, they wouldn’t have visited or presented them as they did. There was also a group in ancient times, and still today, called Ventriloquists, who speak in a way that makes their voice seem to come from somewhere else in the room. But these Ventriloquists speak very clearly and understandably. The only similar example I can find for your way of speaking (and I wish I could help you more) is the modern art of ‘de persifler,’ which the ‘Petits maitres’ in Paris practice successfully. This clever art involves selecting a serious man who doesn’t understand or expect banter and talking to him in quick, unclear sounds; meanwhile, the man, thinking he didn’t hear correctly or wasn’t paying enough attention, asks, ‘Monsieur?’ or ‘Pardon?’ a hundred times, which provides a lot of amusement for those clever gentlemen. Whether you want to follow this example, I leave to your discretion.
Have you carried no English or French comedies of tragedies with you to Leipsig? If you have, I insist upon your reciting some passages of them every day to Mr. Harte in the most distinct and graceful manner, as if you were acting them upon a stage.
Have you brought any English or French comedies or tragedies with you to Leipzig? If you have, I insist that you read some passages from them aloud every day to Mr. Harte in the clearest and most graceful way, as if you were performing on a stage.
The first part of my letter is more than an answer to your questions concerning Lord Pulteney.
The first part of my letter is more than just a response to your questions about Lord Pulteney.
LETTER XLV
LONDON, July, 20, O. S. 1748
DEAR BOY: There are two sorts of understandings; one of which hinders a man from ever being considerable, and the other commonly makes him ridiculous; I mean the lazy mind, and the trifling, frivolous mind: Yours, I hope, is neither. The lazy mind will not take the trouble of going to the bottom of anything; but, discouraged by the first difficulties (and everything worth knowing or having is attained with some), stops short, contents, itself with easy, and consequently superficial knowledge, and prefers a great degree of ignorance to a small degree of trouble. These people either think, or represent most things as impossible; whereas, few things are so to industry and activity. But difficulties seem to them, impossibilities, or at least they pretend to think them so—by way of excuse for their laziness. An hour’s attention to the same subject is too laborious for them; they take everything in the light in which it first presents itself; never consider, it in all its different views; and, in short, never think it through. The consequence of this is that when they come to speak upon these subjects, before people who have considered them with attention; they only discover their own ignorance and laziness, and lay themselves open to answers that put them in confusion. Do not then be discouraged by the first difficulties, but ‘contra audentior ito’; and resolve to go to the bottom of all those things which every gentleman ought to know well. Those arts or sciences which are peculiar to certain professions, need not be deeply known by those who are not intended for those professions. As, for instance; fortification and navigation; of both which, a superficial and general knowledge, such as the common course of conversation, with a very little inquiry on your part, will give you, is sufficient. Though, by the way, a little more knowledge of fortification may be of some use to you; as the events of war, in sieges, make many of the terms, of that science occur frequently in common conversation; and one would be sorry to say, like the Marquis de Mascarille in Moliere’s ‘Precieuses Ridicules’, when he hears of ‘une demie lune, Ma foi! c’etoit bien une lune toute entiere’. But those things which every gentleman, independently of profession, should know, he ought to know well, and dive into all the depth of them. Such are languages, history, and geography ancient and modern, philosophy, rational logic; rhetoric; and, for you particularly, the constitutions and the civil and military state of every country in Europe: This, I confess; is a pretty large circle of knowledge, attended with some difficulties, and requiring some trouble; which, however; an active and industrious mind will overcome; and be amply repaid. The trifling and frivolous mind is always busied, but to little purpose; it takes little objects for great ones, and throws away upon trifles that time and attention which only important things deserve. Knick-knacks; butterflies; shells, insects, etc., are the subjects of their most serious researches. They contemplate the dress, not the characters of the company they keep. They attend more to the decorations of a play than the sense of it; and to the ceremonies of a court more than to its politics. Such an employment of time is an absolute loss of it. You have now, at most, three years to employ either well or ill; for, as I have often told you, you will be all your life what you shall be three years hence. For God’s sake then reflect. Will you throw this time away either in laziness, or in trifles? Or will you not rather employ every moment of it in a manner that must so soon reward you with so much pleasure, figure, and character? I cannot, I will not doubt of your choice. Read only useful books; and never quit a subject till you are thoroughly master of it, but read and inquire on till then. When you are in company, bring the conversation to some useful subject, but ‘a portee’ of that company. Points of history, matters of literature, the customs of particular countries, the several orders of knighthood, as Teutonic, Maltese, etc., are surely better subjects of conversation, than the weather, dress, or fiddle-faddle stories, that carry no information along with them. The characters of kings and great men are only to be learned in conversation; for they are never fairly written during their lives. This, therefore, is an entertaining and instructive subject of conversation, and will likewise give you an opportunity of observing how very differently characters are given, from the different passions and views of those who give them. Never be ashamed nor afraid of asking questions: for if they lead to information, and if you accompany them with some excuse, you will never be reckoned an impertinent or rude questioner. All those things, in the common course of life, depend entirely upon the manner; and, in that respect, the vulgar saying is true, ‘That one man can better steal a horse, than another look over the hedge.’ There are few things that may not be said, in some manner or other; either in a seeming confidence, or a genteel irony, or introduced with wit; and one great part of the knowledge of the world consists in knowing when and where to make use of these different manners. The graces of the person, the countenance, and the way of speaking, contribute so much to this, that I am convinced, the very same thing, said by a genteel person in an engaging way, and GRACEFULLY and distinctly spoken, would please, which would shock, if MUTTERED out by an awkward figure, with a sullen, serious countenance. The poets always represent Venus as attended by the three Graces, to intimate that even beauty will not do without: I think they should have given Minerva three also; for without them, I am sure learning is very unattractive. Invoke them, then, DISTINCTLY, to accompany all your words and motions. Adieu.
DEAR BOY: There are two types of understanding; one keeps a person from ever being significant, and the other usually makes them look foolish. I mean the lazy mind and the trivial, frivolous mind: I hope yours is neither. The lazy mind won’t bother to dig deep into anything; instead, discouraged by the first challenges (and everything worth knowing or having requires some effort), it gives up, settles for easy, and therefore shallow knowledge, and prefers a high level of ignorance over a small amount of trouble. These people often view most things as impossible; however, few things are truly impossible to those who are diligent and active. What seem like difficulties to them appear as impossibilities, or at least they pretend to think so as an excuse for their laziness. Even an hour of focus on a topic feels too burdensome for them; they take everything at face value, never consider it from various angles, and, in short, never think it through. As a result, when they speak on these subjects in front of those who have genuinely pondered them, they only reveal their own ignorance and laziness, exposing themselves to responses that leave them flustered. So, don’t let the initial difficulties discourage you; instead, push on and resolve to understand everything every gentleman should know well. Those skills or fields of study that belong to certain professions don’t need to be deeply understood by those who aren’t training for those fields. For example, understanding fortification and navigation at a basic level is sufficient, as a general familiarity is easily gained through casual conversation and a bit of inquiry. However, knowing a little more about fortification could be beneficial because, during wartime and sieges, terminology from that field frequently comes up in everyday conversations. It would be unfortunate to resemble the Marquis de Mascarille in Molière’s 'Precieuses Ridicules' when hearing about ‘une demie lune’ and mistakenly exclaiming, ‘Oh, that’s a whole moon!’ But for the things every gentleman should know, regardless of profession, he should dive deep into them. This includes languages, history, geography (both ancient and modern), philosophy, rational logic, rhetoric, and particularly for you, understanding the constitutions and civil and military situations of every country in Europe. I admit this is quite a broad spectrum of knowledge, filled with some challenges and requiring effort, yet an active and industrious mind will overcome these and be richly rewarded. The trivial and frivolous mind is always busy but to very little effect; it focuses on minor issues as if they were major, wasting time and energy on trivial matters that only significant subjects deserve. Collecting knick-knacks, butterflies, shells, and insects becomes the extent of their serious interests. They pay more attention to the fashion of the people they associate with than to their actual character. They focus more on the staging of a play than its meaning and on court ceremonies more than its political undertones. Such use of time is a complete waste. You currently have, at most, three years to spend wisely or poorly; as I have often mentioned, you will be who you will be three years from now. So, for heaven’s sake, reflect. Will you squander this time on laziness or trivial matters? Or will you instead use every moment in a way that will soon reward you with pleasure, reputation, and respect? I have no doubt about your decision. Read only valuable books, and don’t leave a topic until you thoroughly understand it; continue reading and inquiring until then. When you’re with others, steer the conversation toward useful topics, but consider the company you’re with. Discussions about history, literature, the customs of different countries, and various orders of knighthood like the Teutonic and Maltese are surely better subjects than the weather, clothing, or trivial stories that carry no relevant information. The characters of kings and notable figures can only be explored through conversation, as they are rarely accurately portrayed during their lifetimes. This, therefore, is both an entertaining and enlightening topic to discuss and will give you the chance to observe how differently characters are portrayed due to the unique passions and perspectives of those sharing them. Never be ashamed or afraid to ask questions: if they lead to knowledge and you accompany them with some context, you won’t be seen as an impertinent or rude questioner. In the flow of everyday life, everything relies heavily on delivery; in that sense, the saying holds true that “one person can steal a horse better than another can look over a fence.” There are few things that can’t be expressed in some form or another, whether with seeming confidence, gentle irony, or introduced with humor; a significant part of worldly knowledge lies in knowing when and how to employ these various manners. The charm of a person's appearance, their expression, and their manner of speaking contribute so much to this that I am convinced the very same words, when delivered by a polished person in an engaging manner, would be well-received, while they would shock if uttered by someone awkward with a grumpy, serious face. Poets often depict Venus with the three Graces to signify that even beauty is incomplete without them; I believe they should have afforded Minerva three Graces as well because, without them, I know learning is quite unappealing. So invoke them clearly to accompany all your words and actions. Farewell.
P. S. Since I wrote what goes before, I have received your letter, OF NO DATE, with the inclosed state of the Prussian forces: of which, I hope, you have kept a copy; this you should lay in a ‘portefeuille’, and add to it all the military establishments that you can get of other states and kingdoms: the Saxon establishment you may, doubtless, easily find. By the way, do not forget to send me answers to the questions which I sent you some time ago, concerning both the civil and the ecclesiastical affairs of Saxony.
P. S. Since I wrote the previous portion, I've received your undated letter along with the enclosed information about the Prussian forces. I hope you kept a copy of it; you should store it in a portfolio and add all the military structures you can gather from other states and kingdoms. You can easily find the details about the Saxon military. Also, please remember to send me the answers to the questions I sent you some time ago regarding both the civil and ecclesiastical matters in Saxony.
Do not mistake me, and think I only mean that you should speak elegantly with regard to style, and the purity of language; but I mean, that you should deliver and pronounce what you say gracefully and distinctly; for which purpose I will have you frequently read very loud, to Mr. Harte, recite parts of orations, and speak passages of plays; for, without a graceful and pleasing enunciation, all your elegancy of style, in speaking, is not worth one farthing.
Do not misunderstand me and think I only mean that you should speak elegantly in terms of style and the clarity of language; what I really mean is that you should deliver and pronounce what you say gracefully and clearly. To help with this, I want you to read out loud often to Mr. Harte, recite parts of speeches, and perform excerpts from plays. Because without a graceful and pleasant way of speaking, all your elegance in style is worth nothing.
I am very glad that Mr. Lyttelton approves of my new house, and particularly of my CANONICAL—[James Brydges, duke of Chandos, built a most magnificent and elegant house at CANNONS, about eight miles from London. It was superbly furnished with fine pictures, statues, etc., which, after his death, were sold, by auction. Lord Chesterfield purchased the hall-pillars, the floor; and staircase with double flights; which are now in Chesterfield House, London.]—pillars. My bust of Cicero is a very fine one, and well preserved; it will have the best place in my library, unless at your return you bring me over as good a modern head of your own, which I should like still better. I can tell you, that I shall examine it as attentively as ever antiquary did an old one.
I’m really happy that Mr. Lyttelton likes my new house, especially my CANONICAL—[James Brydges, duke of Chandos, built a stunning and elegant house at CANNONS, about eight miles from London. It was beautifully furnished with great paintings, statues, etc., which were sold at auction after his death. Lord Chesterfield bought the hall-pillars, the floor, and the staircase with double flights; these are now in Chesterfield House, London.]—pillars. My bust of Cicero is quite impressive and well-preserved; it will have the best spot in my library unless you bring me a modern bust of your own when you return, which I would like even more. I can promise you that I will examine it as carefully as any antiquarian would an old one.
Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, at whose recovery I rejoice.
Please give my regards to Mr. Harte; I'm really glad to hear that he's recovering.
LETTER XLVI
LONDON, August 2, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: Duval the jeweler, is arrived, and was with me three or four days ago. You will easily imagine that I asked him a few questions concerning you; and I will give you the satisfaction of knowing that, upon the whole, I was very well pleased with the account he gave me. But, though he seemed to be much in your interest, yet he fairly owned to me that your utterance was rapid, thick, and ungraceful. I can add nothing to what I have already said upon this subject; but I can and do repeat the absolute necessity of speaking distinctly and gracefully, or else of not speaking at all, and having recourse to signs. He tells me that you are pretty fat for one of your age: this you should attend to in a proper way; for if, while very young; you should grow fat, it would be troublesome, unwholesome, and ungraceful; you should therefore, when you have time, take very strong exercise, and in your diet avoid fattening things. All malt liquors fatten, or at least bloat; and I hope you do not deal much in them. I look upon wine and water to be, in every respect; much wholesomer.
DEAR BOY: Duval the jeweler has arrived and was with me three or four days ago. You can easily guess that I asked him a few questions about you, and I'm pleased to tell you that, overall, I was very happy with what he shared. However, he did admit that your speech is quick, thick, and not very graceful. I won’t add anything to what I’ve said about this before, but I must repeat how important it is to speak clearly and gracefully, or else not speak at all and use signs instead. He mentioned that you are quite chubby for your age; you should address this properly because if you become overweight while still young, it could be uncomfortable, unhealthy, and awkward. So, when you have the chance, be sure to get plenty of exercise and avoid fatty foods. All malt beverages can cause weight gain or at least bloating, so I hope you’re not consuming too many of those. I believe that wine and water are much healthier in every way.
Duval says there is a great deal of very good company at Madame Valentin’s and at another lady’s, I think one Madame Ponce’s, at Leipsig. Do you ever go to either of those houses, at leisure times? It would not, in my mind, be amiss if you did, and would give you a habit of ATTENTIONS; they are a tribute which all women expect; and which all men, who would be well received by them; must pay. And, whatever the mind may be, manners at least are certainly improved by the company of women of fashion.
Duval says there's a lot of really good company at Madame Valentin’s and at another lady’s, I think Madame Ponce’s, in Leipzig. Do you ever go to either of those places in your free time? I think it wouldn't hurt if you did; it would help you develop a habit of attentiveness, which all women expect and which all men who want to be well-received by them need to show. And no matter what your mindset may be, your manners are definitely improved by being around fashionable women.
I have formerly told you, that you should inform yourself of the several orders, whether military or religious, of the respective countries where you may be. The Teutonic Order is the great Order of Germany, of which I send you inclosed a short account. It may serve to suggest questions to you for more particular inquiries as to the present state of it, of which you ought to be minutely informed. The knights, at present, make vows, of which they observe none, except it be that of not marrying; and their only object now is, to arrive, by seniority, at the Commanderies in their respective provinces; which are, many of them, very lucrative. The Order of Malta is, by a very few years, prior to the Teutonic, and owes its foundation to the same causes. These’ knights were first called Knights Hospitaliers of St. John of Jerusalem, then Knights of Rhodes; and in the year 1530, Knights of Malta, the Emperor Charles V. having granted them that island, upon condition of their defending his island of Sicily against the Turks, which they effectually did. L’Abbe de Vertot has written the history of Malta, but it is the least valuable of all his works; and moreover, too long for you to read. But there is a short history, of all the military orders whatsoever, which I would advise you to get, as there is also of all the religious orders; both which are worth your having and consulting, whenever you meet with any of them in your way; as, you will very frequently in Catholic countries. For my own part, I find that I remember things much better, when I recur, to my books for them, upon some particular occasion, than by reading them ‘tout de suite’. As, for example, if I were to read the history of all the military or religious orders, regularly one after another, the latter puts the former out of my head; but when I read the history of any one, upon account, of its having been the object of conversation or dispute, I remember it much better. It is the same in geography, where, looking for any particular place in the map, upon some particular account, fixes it in one’s memory forever. I hope you have worn out your maps by frequent, use of that sort. Adieu.
I've previously mentioned that you should familiarize yourself with the various orders, both military and religious, in the countries you visit. The Teutonic Order is the major order in Germany, and I've included a brief overview for you. It may help you think of questions for more detailed inquiries about its current status, which you should know well. The knights now take vows, but they only keep one, which is not to marry; their main goal is to advance in seniority to the Commanderies in their regions, many of which are quite profitable. The Order of Malta is slightly older than the Teutonic Order and was founded for similar reasons. These knights were initially known as the Knights Hospitaliers of St. John of Jerusalem, then Knights of Rhodes; in 1530, they became Knights of Malta after Emperor Charles V granted them that island on the condition they defend Sicily against the Turks, which they did successfully. L’Abbe de Vertot has written about the history of Malta, but it's the least valuable of his works and too lengthy for you to read. However, I recommend getting a concise history of all military orders as well as one for all religious orders; both are worth having and consulting whenever you encounter them, which will happen often in Catholic countries. Personally, I find that I remember things much better when I refer back to my books for specific occasions rather than reading them straight through. For example, if I read the history of all military or religious orders one after the other, the latter confuses the former in my mind. But if I read about one because it came up in conversation or debate, I remember it much more clearly. The same applies to geography; looking for a specific place on a map for a particular reason helps cement it in memory forever. I hope you’ve worn out your maps from frequent use like that. Goodbye.
A SHORT ACCOUNT OF THE TEUTONIC ORDER
A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE TEUTONIC ORDER
In the ages of ignorance, which is always the mother of superstition, it was thought not only just, but meritorious, to propagate religion by fire and sword, and to take away the lives and properties of unbelievers. This enthusiasm produced the several crusades, in the 11th, 12th, and following centuries, the object of which was, to recover the Holy Land out of, the hands of the Infidels, who, by the way, were the lawful possessors. Many honest enthusiasts engaged in those crusades, from a mistaken principle of religion, and from the pardons granted by the Popes for all the sins of those pious adventurers; but many more knaves adopted these holy wars, in hopes of conquest and plunder. After Godfrey of Bouillon, at the head of these knaves and fools, had taken Jerusalem, in the year 1099, Christians of various nations remained in that city; among the rest, one good honest German, that took particular care of his countrymen who came thither in pilgrimages. He built a house for their reception, and an hospital dedicated to the Virgin. This little establishment soon became a great one, by the enthusiasm of many considerable people who engaged in it, in order to drive the Saracens out of the Holy Land. This society then began to take its first form; and its members were called Marian Teutonic Knights. Marian, from their chapel sacred to the Virgin Mary; Teutonic, from the German, or Teuton, who was the author of it, and Knights from the wars which they were to carry on against the Infidels.
In times of ignorance, which has always been the source of superstition, it was seen as not just acceptable but praiseworthy to spread religion through violence and take the lives and belongings of non-believers. This fervor led to several crusades in the 11th, 12th, and subsequent centuries, aimed at reclaiming the Holy Land from the Infidels, who, by the way, were the rightful owners. Many well-meaning individuals participated in these crusades due to a misguided understanding of religion and the pardons offered by the Popes for the sins of these devoted adventurers; however, many more deceitful individuals joined these holy wars hoping for conquest and loot. After Godfrey of Bouillon, leading these rogues and fools, captured Jerusalem in 1099, Christians from various nations stayed in the city; among them was a good German who looked after his countrymen visiting for pilgrimages. He built a place for them to stay and a hospital dedicated to the Virgin Mary. This small establishment quickly grew, spurred on by the enthusiasm of many prominent people who joined in to drive the Saracens out of the Holy Land. This group began to take shape, calling themselves the Marian Teutonic Knights. "Marian" refers to their chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary; "Teutonic" comes from the German heritage of its founder, and "Knights" refers to the wars they were to wage against the Infidels.
These knights behaved themselves so bravely, at first; that Duke Frederick of Swabia, who was general of the German army in the Holy Land, sent, in the year 1191, to the Emperor Henry VI. and Pope Celestine III. to desire that this brave and charitable fraternity might be incorporated into a regular order of knighthood; which was accordingly done, and rules and a particular habit were given them. Forty knights, all of noble families, were at first created by the King of Jerusalem and other princes then in the army. The first grand master of this order was Henry Wallpot, of a noble family upon the Rhine. This order soon began to operate in Europe; drove all the Pagans out of Prussia, and took possession of it. Soon after, they got Livonia and Courland, and invaded even Russia, where they introduced the Christian religion. In 1510, they elected Albert, Marquis of Bradenburg, for their grand master, who, turning Protestant, soon afterward took Prussia from the order, and kept it for himself, with the consent of Sigismund, King of Poland, of whom it was to hold. He then quitted his grand mastership and made himself hereditary Duke of that country, which is thence called Ducal Prussia. This order now consists of twelve provinces; viz., Alsatia, Austria, Coblentz, and Etsch, which are the four under the Prussian jurisdiction; Franconia, Hesse, Biessen, Westphalia, Lorraine, Thuringia, Saxony, and Utrecht, which eight are of the German jurisdiction. The Dutch now possess all that the order had in Utrecht. Every one of the provinces have their particular Commanderies; and the most ancient of these Commandeurs is called the Commandeur Provincial. These twelve Commandeurs are all subordinate to the Grand Master of Germany as their chief, and have the right of electing the grand master. The elector of Cologne is at present ‘Grand Maitre’.
These knights acted so bravely at first that Duke Frederick of Swabia, who was the general of the German army in the Holy Land, sent a message in 1191 to Emperor Henry VI and Pope Celestine III, asking for this brave and charitable group to be recognized as a formal order of knighthood. This request was granted, and they were given rules and a specific uniform. Initially, the King of Jerusalem and other princes in the army appointed forty knights, all from noble families. The first grand master of this order was Henry Wallpot, from a noble family along the Rhine. This order quickly began its activities in Europe, driving all the Pagans out of Prussia and taking control of the region. Soon after, they conquered Livonia and Courland and even invaded Russia, where they spread Christianity. In 1510, they elected Albert, the Marquis of Brandenburg, as their grand master. After becoming Protestant, he took Prussia from the order and retained it for himself, with the agreement of Sigismund, King of Poland, who was its sovereign. He then resigned as grand master and made himself the hereditary Duke of that territory, which became known as Ducal Prussia. This order now includes twelve provinces: Alsatia, Austria, Coblentz, and Etsch, which are the four under Prussian jurisdiction; and Franconia, Hesse, Biessen, Westphalia, Lorraine, Thuringia, Saxony, and Utrecht, which comprise the eight under German jurisdiction. The Dutch currently control all the land in Utrecht that the order previously held. Each province has its own Commanderies, and the oldest of these Commandeurs is known as the Commandeur Provincial. These twelve Commandeurs report to the Grand Master of Germany as their leader and have the right to elect the grand master. The current Grand Master is the elector of Cologne.
This order, founded by mistaken Christian zeal, upon the anti-Christian principles of violence and persecution, soon grew strong by the weakness and ignorance of the time; acquired unjustly great possessions, of which they justly lost the greatest part by their ambition and cruelty, which made them feared and hated by all their neighbors.
This order, based on misguided Christian enthusiasm and principles of violence and persecution, quickly gained power through the ignorance and weakness of the era. They acquired a significant amount of wealth unjustly, most of which they rightfully lost due to their ambition and cruelty, which made them feared and disliked by all their neighbors.
I have this moment received your letter of the 4th, N. S., and have only time to tell you that I can by no means agree to your cutting off your hair. I am very sure that your headaches cannot proceed from thence. And as for the pimples upon your head, they are only owing to the heat of the season, and consequently will not last long. But your own hair is, at your age, such an ornament, and a wig, however well made, such a disguise, that I will upon no account whatsoever have you cut off your hair. Nature did not give it to you for nothing, still less to cause you the headache. Mr. Eliot’s hair grew so ill and bushy, that he was in the right to cut it off. But you have not the same reason.
I just got your letter from the 4th, and I only have time to say that I absolutely cannot agree to you cutting your hair. I'm sure your headaches aren't from that. As for the pimples on your head, they are just due to the heat of the season, so they won't stick around for long. Your hair is such a beautiful feature at your age, and a wig, no matter how well made, is just a disguise. I cannot let you cut it off. Nature didn't give you hair for no reason, and definitely not to give you headaches. Mr. Eliot had hair that grew so poorly and bushy that cutting it made sense for him. But you don't have the same reason.
LETTER XLVII
LONDON, August 23, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: Your friend, Mr. Eliot, has dined with me twice since I returned here, and I can say with truth that while I had the seals, I never examined or sifted a state prisoner with so much care and curiosity as I did him. Nay, I did more; for, contrary to the laws of this country, I gave him in some manner, the QUESTION ordinary and extraordinary; and I have infinite pleasure in telling you that the rack which I put him to, did not extort from him one single word that was not such as I wished to hear of you. I heartily congratulate you upon such an advantageous testimony, from so creditable a witness. ‘Laudati a laudato viro’, is one of the greatest pleasures and honors a rational being can have; may you long continue to deserve it! Your aversion to drinking and your dislike to gaming, which Mr. Eliot assures me are both very strong, give me, the greatest joy imaginable, for your sake: as the former would ruin both your constitution and understanding, and the latter your fortune and character. Mr. Harte wrote me word some time ago, and Mr. Eliot confirms it now, that you employ your pin money in a very different manner, from that in which pin money is commonly lavished: not in gew-gaws and baubles, but in buying good and useful books. This is an excellent symptom, and gives me very good hopes. Go on thus, my dear boy, but for these next two years, and I ask no more. You must then make such a figure and such a fortune in the world as I wish you, and as I have taken all these pains to enable you to do. After that time I allow you to be as idle as ever you please; because I am sure that you will not then please to be so at all. The ignorant and the weak are only idle; but those who have once acquired a good stock of knowledge, always desire to increase it. Knowledge is like power in this respect, that those who have the most, are most desirous of having more. It does not clog, by possession, but increases desire; which is the case of very few pleasures.
DEAR BOY: Your friend, Mr. Eliot, has had dinner with me twice since I got back here, and I can honestly say that while I was in charge, I never examined a state prisoner with as much care and curiosity as I did with him. In fact, I did more; because, contrary to the laws of this country, I gave him both the ordinary and extraordinary INTERROGATION. I'm very pleased to tell you that the pressure I put on him didn’t get a single word out of him that wasn’t about you in a way I wanted to hear. I'm really happy for you to have such a favorable account from such a reliable source. “Praised by a praised person” is one of the greatest pleasures and honors a person can have; may you continue to earn it for a long time! Your dislike of drinking and gaming, which Mr. Eliot assures me are very strong, gives me immense joy for your sake: as the former would ruin your health and mind, and the latter your wealth and reputation. Mr. Harte informed me some time ago, and Mr. Eliot confirms it now, that you spend your allowance in a way that’s very different from how most people typically waste it: not on trinkets and nonsense but on good and useful books. This is a great sign and gives me a lot of hope. Keep it up, my dear boy, but just for these next two years, and I’m asking no more. After that, you should make such an impact and have such a fortune in the world as I wish for you, and as I have worked hard to help you achieve. After that time, I allow you to be as lazy as you want; because I’m sure you won’t want to be lazy at all. The ignorant and the weak are the only ones who are idle; but those who have gained a solid base of knowledge always want to learn more. Knowledge is like power in that way; those who have the most want to have even more. It doesn’t weigh you down with possession, but instead increases your desire; which is the case for very few pleasures.
Upon receiving this congratulatory letter, and reading your own praises, I am sure that it must naturally occur to you, how great a share of them you owe to Mr. Harte’s care and attention; and, consequently, that your regard and affection for him must increase, if there be room for it, in proportion as you reap, which you do daily, the fruits of his labors.
Upon getting this congratulatory letter and reading your praises, I’m sure it must occur to you how much you owe to Mr. Harte’s care and attention. As a result, your regard and affection for him should grow, if there’s any room left for it, as you enjoy the benefits of his hard work every day.
I must not, however, conceal from you that there was one article in which your own witness, Mr. Eliot, faltered; for, upon my questioning him home as to your manner of speaking, he could not say that your utterance was either distinct or graceful. I have already said so much to you upon this point that I can add nothing. I will therefore only repeat this truth, which is, that if you will not speak distinctly and graceful, nobody will desire to hear you. I am glad to learn that Abbe Mably’s ‘Droit Public de l’Europe’ makes a part of your evening amusements. It is a very useful book, and gives a clear deduction of the affairs of Europe, from the treaty of Munster to this time. Pray read it with attention, and with the proper maps; always recurring to them for the several countries or towns yielded, taken, or restored. Pyre Bougeant’s third volume will give you the best idea of the treaty of Munster, and open to you the several views of the belligerent’ and contracting parties, and there never were greater than at that time. The House of Austria, in the war immediately preceding that treaty, intended to make itself absolute in the empire, and to overthrow the rights of the respective states of it. The view of France was to weaken and dismember the House of Austria to such a degree, as that it should no longer be a counterbalance to that of Bourbon. Sweden wanted possessions on the continent of Germany, not only to supply the necessities of its own poor and barren country, but likewise to hold the balance in the empire between the House of Austria and the States. The House of Brandenburg wanted to aggrandize itself by pilfering in the fire; changed sides occasionally, and made a good bargain at last; for I think it got, at the peace, nine or ten bishoprics secularized. So that we may date, from the treaty of Munster, the decline of the House of Austria, the great power of the House of Bourbon, and the aggrandizement of that of Bradenburg: which, I am much mistaken, if it stops where it is now.
I must not hide from you that there was one point where your own witness, Mr. Eliot, hesitated; when I asked him about your way of speaking, he couldn’t say that your delivery was either clear or elegant. I’ve already said enough about this to you, so I can’t really add anything more. I’ll just repeat this truth: if you don’t speak clearly and gracefully, no one will want to listen to you. I’m glad to hear that Abbe Mably’s ‘Droit Public de l’Europe’ is part of your evening reading. It’s a very useful book and provides a clear overview of European affairs from the treaty of Munster to now. Please read it carefully, using the proper maps; always refer back to them for the various countries or towns that were ceded, captured, or restored. Pyre Bougeant’s third volume will give you the best understanding of the treaty of Munster and the different perspectives of the warring and contracting parties, which were never more significant than at that time. The House of Austria, in the war just before that treaty, aimed to assert its dominance in the empire and undermine the rights of its individual states. France’s goal was to weaken and break up the House of Austria to the point where it could no longer oppose the House of Bourbon. Sweden wanted territory in Germany, not just to support its own struggling and barren land but also to maintain the balance of power in the empire between the House of Austria and the States. The House of Brandenburg aimed to expand itself by taking advantage of the chaos; it switched sides occasionally and ended up making a good deal, as it effectively secured the secularization of nine or ten bishoprics at the peace. Therefore, we can trace from the treaty of Munster the decline of the House of Austria, the rise of the House of Bourbon, and the expansion of Brandenburg—which, I suspect, won’t stop where it is now.
Make my compliments to Lord Pulteney, to whom I would have you be not only attentive, but useful, by setting him (in case he wants it) a good example of application and temperance. I begin to believe that, as I shall be proud of you, others will be proud too of imitating you: Those expectations of mine seem now so well grounded, that my disappointment, and consequently my anger, will be so much the greater if they fail; but as things stand now, I am most affectionately and tenderly, Yours.
Please pass my compliments to Lord Pulteney. I would like you to be not only respectful but also helpful by showing him (if he needs it) a good example of dedication and self-control. I'm starting to believe that as I take pride in you, others will want to follow your lead as well. My hopes for you seem so well-founded that my disappointment—and thus my frustration—will be much greater if they don’t come to fruition. But as things are right now, I am most affectionately and tenderly, yours.
LETTER XLVIII
LONDON, August 30, O. S. 1748
DEAR BOY: Your reflections upon the conduct of France, from the treaty of Munster to this time, are very just; and I am very glad to find, by them, that you not only read, but that you think and reflect upon what you read. Many great readers load their memories, without exercising their judgments; and make lumber-rooms of their heads instead of furnishing them usefully; facts are heaped upon facts without order or distinction, and may justly be said to compose that
DEAR BOY: Your thoughts on France's actions, from the treaty of Munster until now, are very insightful; and I'm pleased to see that you not only read but also think and reflect on what you read. Many avid readers fill their minds with information without applying their judgment; they turn their heads into storage rooms instead of filling them with useful knowledge. Facts are piled upon facts without organization or distinction, and can rightly be said to create that
‘——-Rudis indigestaque moles
Quem dixere chaos’.
——-A disorganized mass
That some call chaos.Go on, then, in the way of reading that you are in; take nothing for granted, upon the bare authority of the author; but weigh and consider, in your own mind, the probability of the facts and the justness of the reflections. Consult different authors upon the same facts, and form your opinion upon the greater or lesser degree of probability arising from the whole, which, in my mind, is the utmost stretch of historical faith; certainty (I fear) not being to be found. When a historian pretends to give you the causes and motives of events, compare those causes and motives with the characters and interests of the parties concerned, and judge for yourself whether they correspond or not. Consider whether you cannot assign others more probable; and in that examination, do not despise some very mean and trifling causes of the actions of great men; for so various and inconsistent is human nature, so strong and changeable are our passions, so fluctuating are our wills, and so much are our minds influenced by the accidents of our bodies that every man is more the man of the day, than a regular consequential character. The best have something bad, and something little; the worst have something good, and sometimes something great; for I do not believe what Velleius Paterculus (for the sake of saying a pretty thing) says of Scipio, ‘Qui nihil non laudandum aut fecit, aut dixit, aut sensit’. As for the reflections of historians, with which they think it necessary to interlard their histories, or at least to conclude their chapters (and which, in the French histories, are always introduced with a ‘tant il est vrai’, and in the English, SO TRUE IT IS), do not adopt them implicitly upon the credit of the author, but analyze them yourself, and judge whether they are true or not.
Go ahead and read as you are; don’t take anything at face value just because the author says so. Instead, think critically about the likelihood of the events and the validity of the reflections. Look at different authors discussing the same events and form your own opinion based on the varying levels of probability from all sources, as that’s, in my view, the highest level of historical belief; I fear certainty is elusive. When a historian tries to explain the causes and motivations behind events, compare those explanations with the personalities and interests of the people involved, and decide for yourself if they make sense. Think about whether you can come up with more plausible reasons; and in that exploration, don’t dismiss even the tiniest or most trivial motives behind the actions of great individuals. Human nature is so diverse and unpredictable, our passions are intense and can change quickly, our wills are unstable, and our minds are greatly affected by physical circumstances, so everyone is more influenced by their current situation than by a consistent character. The best people have flaws and smallness, and the worst have redeeming qualities and sometimes greatness; I don’t buy what Velleius Paterculus says about Scipio, that he ‘did or said or felt nothing that wasn’t worthy of praise.’ Regarding the thoughts of historians, which they feel compelled to weave into their narratives or at least end their chapters with (and which in French histories often start with ‘tant il est vrai’ and in English, ‘SO TRUE IT IS’), don’t automatically accept them just because of the author’s reputation; analyze them yourself and decide if they are true or not.
But to return to the politics of France, from which I have digressed. You have certainly made one further reflection, of an advantage which France has, over and above its abilities in the cabinet and the skill of its negotiators, which is (if I may use the expression) its SOLENESS, continuity of riches and power within itself, and the nature of its government. Near twenty millions of people, and the ordinary revenue of above thirteen millions sterling a year, are at the absolute disposal of the Crown. This is what no other power in Europe can say; so that different powers must now unite to make a balance against France; which union, though formed upon the principle of their common interest, can never be so intimate as to compose a machine so compact and simple as that of one great kingdom, directed by one will, and moved by one interest. The Allied Powers (as we have constantly seen) have, besides the common and declared object of their alliance, some separate and concealed view to which they often sacrifice the general one; which makes them, either directly or indirectly, pull different ways. Thus, the design upon Toulon failed in the year 1706, only from the secret view of the House of Austria upon Naples: which made the Court of Vienna, notwithstanding the representations of the other allies to the contrary, send to Naples the 12,000 men that would have done the business at Toulon. In this last war too, the same causes had the same effects: the Queen of Hungary in secret thought of nothing but recovering of Silesia, and what she had lost in Italy; and, therefore, never sent half that quota which she promised, and we paid for, into Flanders; but left that country to the maritime powers to defend as they could. The King of Sardinia’s real object was Savona and all the Riviera di Ponente; for which reason he concurred so lamely in the invasion of Provence, where the Queen of Hungary, likewise, did not send one-third of the force stipulated, engrossed as she was by her oblique views upon the plunder of Genoa, and the recovery of Naples. Insomuch that the expedition into Provence, which would have distressed France to the greatest degree, and have caused a great detachment from their army in Flanders, failed shamefully, for want of every one thing necessary for its success. Suppose, therefore, any four or five powers who, all together, shall be equal, or even a little superior, in riches and strength to that one power against which they are united; the advantage will still be greatly on the side of that single power, because it is but one. The power and riches of Charles V. were, in themselves, certainly superior to those of Frances I., and yet, upon the whole, he was not an overmatch for him. Charles V.‘s dominions, great as they were, were scattered and remote from each other; their constitutions different; wherever he did not reside, disturbances arose; whereas the compactness of France made up the difference in the strength. This obvious reflection convinced me of the absurdity of the treaty of Hanover, in 1725, between France and England, to which the Dutch afterward acceded; for it was made upon the apprehensions, either real or pretended, that the marriage of Don Carlos with the eldest archduchess, now Queen of Hungary, was settled in the treaty of Vienna, of the same year, between Spain and the late Emperor Charles VI., which marriage, those consummate politicians said would revive in Europe the exorbitant power of Charles V. I am sure, I heartily wish it had; as, in that case, there had been, what there certainly is not now, one power in Europe to counterbalance that of France; and then the maritime powers would, in reality, have held the balance of Europe in their hands. Even supposing that the Austrian power would then have been an overmatch for that of France (which, by the way, is not clear), the weight of the maritime powers, then thrown into the scale of France, would infallibly have made the balance at least even. In which case too, the moderate efforts of the maritime powers on the side of France would have been sufficient; whereas now, they are obliged to exhaust and beggar themselves; and that too ineffectually, in hopes to support the shattered; beggared, and insufficient House of Austria.
But to get back to the politics of France, from which I've digressed. You've likely considered one further advantage France has, beyond its skilled diplomats and negotiators, which is—if I may put it this way—its SOLIDITY, the continuous wealth and power within itself, and the structure of its government. Nearly twenty million people and an annual revenue of over thirteen million pounds are completely at the disposal of the Crown. No other power in Europe can claim that, which means different powers must now come together to balance against France; however, that alliance, though based on their mutual interests, can never be as cohesive as a single large kingdom governed by one will and driven by one interest. The Allied Powers (as we've often seen) have, in addition to their common and stated goals, some separate and hidden motives that often lead them to compromise the overall objectives, causing them to pull in different directions. For instance, the plot against Toulon failed in 1706 solely because the House of Austria was secretly focused on Naples: this led the Court of Vienna, despite the other allies' objections, to send the 12,000 troops that could have been decisive at Toulon to Naples instead. In the most recent war, the same factors produced the same results: the Queen of Hungary was secretly fixated on recovering Silesia and what she had lost in Italy; therefore, she never sent nearly the number of troops she promised and that we paid for, into Flanders, leaving that region to the maritime powers to defend on their own. The King of Sardinia was primarily focused on Savona and the entire Riviera di Ponente, which is why he was reluctant to participate in the invasion of Provence, where the Queen of Hungary also failed to send a third of the agreed forces, preoccupied as she was with her covert ambitions to loot Genoa and reclaim Naples. Consequently, the expedition into Provence, which could have been a significant blow to France and drawn resources away from their army in Flanders, failed miserably for lack of everything essential for success. Now, if we imagine any four or five powers that, together, are equal to or even slightly stronger than the single power against which they are allied, that single power still has a considerable advantage simply because it’s one cohesive entity. The power and wealth of Charles V were undeniably greater than those of Francis I, yet overall, he was not a clear match for him. Charles V's territories, as vast as they were, were scattered and distant from each other; their governing styles were different; wherever he did not reside, there were disturbances; conversely, the cohesion of France made up for any lack in strength. This obvious thought made me realize the foolishness of the Treaty of Hanover in 1725, between France and England, to which the Dutch later agreed; it was established based on fears, real or imagined, that the marriage of Don Carlos to the eldest archduchess, now the Queen of Hungary, was secured in the Treaty of Vienna from the same year between Spain and the late Emperor Charles VI. These seasoned politicians believed that this marriage would restore the excessive power of Charles V in Europe. I truly wish it had; as in that case, there would have been—what certainly isn’t there now—one power in Europe to counterbalance France. Then, the maritime powers would have genuinely held the balance of power in their hands. Even assuming that the Austrian power would have been stronger than France (which isn’t entirely certain), the influence of the maritime powers, tipping the balance in favor of France, would have certainly kept things at least even. Under such circumstances, the moderate involvement of the maritime powers on France’s side would have been enough; however, they are now forced to deplete their resources and impoverish themselves; and that too ineffectively, in the hopes of propping up the fractured, impoverished, and inadequate House of Austria.
This has been a long political dissertation; but I am informed that political subjects are your favorite ones; which I am glad of, considering your destination. You do well to get your materials all ready, before you begin your work. As you buy and (I am told) read books of this kind, I will point out two or three for your purchase and perusal; I am not sure that I have not mentioned them before, but that is no matter, if you have not got them. ‘Memoires pour servir a l’Histoire du 17ieme Siecle’, is a most useful book for you to recur to for all the facts and chronology of that country: it is in four volumes octavo, and very correct and exact. If I do not mistake, I have formerly recommended to you, ‘Les Memoires du Cardinal de Retz’; however, if you have not yet read them, pray do, and with the attention which they deserve. You will there find the best account of a very interesting period of the minority of Lewis XIV. The characters are drawn short, but in a strong and masterly manner; and the political reflections are the only just and practical ones that I ever saw in print: they are well worth your transcribing. ‘Le Commerce des Anciens, par Monsieur Huet. Eveque d’Avranche’, in one little volume octavo, is worth your perusal, as commerce is a very considerable part of political knowledge. I need not, I am sure, suggest to you, when you read the course of commerce, either of the ancients or of the moderns, to follow it upon your map; for there is no other way of remembering geography correctly, but by looking perpetually in the map for the places one reads of, even though one knows before, pretty near, where they are.
This has been a long political discussion, but I hear that political topics are your favorites, which I'm glad about, considering your future goals. It’s smart to gather all your materials before you start your work. Since you buy and (I’ve heard) read books like this, I’ll recommend a few for you to get and read; I’m not sure if I mentioned them before, but it’s fine if you haven’t picked them up. *Mémoires pour servir à l’Histoire du 17ème Siècle* is a really helpful book for you to consult for all the facts and timeline of that country: it comes in four octavo volumes and is very accurate. If I’m not mistaken, I’ve previously suggested *Les Mémoires du Cardinal de Retz*; however, if you haven’t read it yet, please do, and give it the attention it deserves. You’ll find the best account of a very interesting time during the minority of Louis XIV. The character sketches are brief but strong and skillful, and the political insights are the only accurate and practical ones I’ve ever seen in print: they’re well worth copying down. *Le Commerce des Anciens* by Monsieur Huet, Bishop of Avranches, in one small octavo volume, is worth your time too since commerce is a significant part of political knowledge. I don’t need to remind you that when you read about the course of commerce, whether from ancient times or modern, you should follow it on your map; the best way to remember geography accurately is by continually checking the map for the places you read about, even if you already know roughly 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.
Goodbye! As all the news I get about you keeps getting better and better, I keep growing more and more fond of you.
LETTER XLIX
LONDON, September 5, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I have received yours, with the inclosed German letter to Mr. Gravenkop, which he assures me is extremely well written, considering the little time that you have applied yourself to that language. As you have now got over the most difficult part, pray go on diligently, and make yourself absolutely master of the rest. Whoever does not entirely possess a language, will never appear to advantage, or even equal to himself, either in speaking or writing it. His ideas are fettered, and seem imperfect or confused, if he is not master of all the words and phrases necessary to express them. I therefore desire, that you will not fail writing a German letter once every fortnight to Mr. Gravenkop; which will make the writing of that language familiar to you; and moreover, when you shall have left Germany and be arrived at Turin, I shall require you to write even to me in German; that you may not forget with ease what you have with difficulty learned. I likewise desire, that while you are in Germany, you will take all opportunities of conversing in German, which is the only way of knowing that, or any other language, accurately. You will also desire your German master to teach you the proper titles and superscriptions to be used to people of all ranks; which is a point so material, in Germany, that I have known many a letter returned unopened, because one title in twenty has been omitted in the direction.
DEAR BOY: I received your letter along with the German letter to Mr. Gravenkop, which he tells me is very well written, especially considering how little time you've spent on that language. Now that you've gotten through the toughest part, please keep at it and become completely fluent in the rest. Anyone who doesn't fully master a language will never come across well or even feel confident when speaking or writing it. Their thoughts become limited and seem incomplete or confused if they don't know all the words and phrases they need to express them. Therefore, I ask that you don’t forget to write a German letter to Mr. Gravenkop every two weeks; this will help you get comfortable with the language. Furthermore, when you leave Germany and reach Turin, I’ll expect you to write to me in German too, so you don’t easily forget what you’ve worked hard to learn. I also suggest that while you’re in Germany, you take every chance to converse in German, as that’s the only real way to master it, or any language, accurately. Additionally, please ask your German teacher to teach you the proper titles and addressing formats for people of all ranks, as this is very important in Germany. I’ve seen many letters returned unopened just because one title out of twenty was missing in the address.
St. Thomas’s day now draws near, when you are to leave Saxony and go to Berlin; and I take it for granted, that if anything is yet wanting to complete your knowledge of the state of that electorate, you will not fail to procure it before you go away. I do not mean, as you will easily believe, the number of churches, parishes, or towns; but I mean the constitution, the revenues, the troops, and the trade of that electorate. A few questions, sensibly asked, of sensible people, will produce you the necessary informations; which I desire you will enter in your little book, Berlin will be entirely a new scene to you, and I look upon it, in a manner, as your first step into the great world; take care that step be not a false one, and that you do not stumble at the threshold. You will there be in more company than you have yet been; manners and attentions will therefore be more necessary. Pleasing in company is the only way of being pleased in it yourself. Sense and knowledge are the first and necessary foundations for pleasing in company; but they will by no means do alone, and they will never be perfectly welcome if they are not accompanied with manners and attentions. You will best acquire these by frequenting the companies of people of fashion; but then you must resolve to acquire them, in those companies, by proper care and observation; for I have known people, who, though they have frequented good company all their lifetime, have done it in so inattentive and unobserving a manner, as to be never the better for it, and to remain as disagreeable, as awkward, and as vulgar, as if they had never seen any person of fashion. When you go into good company (by good company is meant the people of the first fashion of the place) observe carefully their turn, their manners, their address; and conform your own to them. But this is not all neither; go deeper still; observe their characters, and pray, as far as you can, into both their hearts and their heads. Seek for their particular merit, their predominant passion, or their prevailing weakness; and you will then know what to bait your hook with to catch them. Man is a composition of so many, and such various ingredients, that it requires both time and care to analyze him: for though we have all the same ingredients in our general composition, as reason, will, passions, and appetites; yet the different proportions and combinations of them in each individual, produce that infinite variety of characters, which, in some particular or other, distinguishes every individual from another. Reason ought to direct the whole, but seldom does. And he who addresses himself singly to another man’s reason, without endeavoring to engage his heart in his interest also, is no more likely to succeed, than a man who should apply only to a king’s nominal minister, and neglect his favorite. I will recommend to your attentive perusal, now that you are going into the world, two books, which will let you as much into the characters of men, as books can do. I mean, ‘Les Reflections Morales de Monsieur de la Rochefoucault, and Les Caracteres de la Bruyere’: but remember, at the same time, that I only recommend them to you as the best general maps to assist you in your journey, and not as marking out every particular turning and winding that you will meet with. There your own sagacity and observation must come to their aid. La Rochefoucault, is, I know, blamed, but I think without reason, for deriving all our actions from the source of self-love. For my own part, I see a great deal of truth, and no harm at all, in that opinion. It is certain that we seek our own happiness in everything we do; and it is as certain, that we can only find it in doing well, and in conforming all our actions to the rule of right reason, which is the great law of nature. It is only a mistaken self-love that is a blamable motive, when we take the immediate and indiscriminate gratification of a passion, or appetite, for real happiness. But am I blamable if I do a good action, upon account of the happiness which that honest consciousness will give me? Surely not. On the contrary, that pleasing consciousness is a proof of my virtue. The reflection which is the most censured in Monsieur de la Rochefoucault’s book as a very ill-natured one, is this, ‘On trouve dans le malheur de son meilleur ami, quelque chose qui ne des plait pas’. And why not? Why may I not feel a very tender and real concern for the misfortune of my friend, and yet at the same time feel a pleasing consciousness at having discharged my duty to him, by comforting and assisting him to the utmost of my power in that misfortune? Give me but virtuous actions, and I will not quibble and chicane about the motives. And I will give anybody their choice of these two truths, which amount to the same thing: He who loves himself best is the honestest man; or, The honestest man loves himself best.
St. Thomas's Day is approaching, and you’re about to leave Saxony for Berlin; I assume that if there's anything else you need to know about that electorate, you’ll make sure to learn it before you leave. I’m not talking about the number of churches, parishes, or towns, but I mean the government, the finances, the military, and the trade of the electorate. A few well-posed questions to sensible people will get you the information you need, which I encourage you to jot down in your notebook. Berlin will be completely new to you, and I see it as your first step into the larger world; make sure that step isn't a wrong one, and that you don’t trip at the entrance. You’ll be in more company there than you’ve ever been; therefore, good manners and attentiveness will be more important. Being pleasant in social settings is the only way to enjoy yourself there. Sense and knowledge are the essential foundations for being liked in social situations; however, they’ll only take you so far and won’t be fully appreciated without politeness and attentiveness. You’ll learn these better by mingling with fashionable people; but you must be committed to learning from them through careful observation because I’ve known people who have spent their whole lives in good company, yet remained oblivious and unobservant, ending up just as unpleasant, awkward, and uncouth as if they had never met anyone of quality. When you enter good company (by that, I mean the most esteemed people in the area), pay close attention to their traits, manners, and presentation; adapt your own to match. But that’s not all; delve deeper; try to understand their characters, and to the extent possible, their feelings and thoughts. Discover their unique qualities, their main passions, or their significant weaknesses, and you’ll know what to use to engage them effectively. Humans are made up of so many different ingredients that it takes time and effort to analyze someone. While we all share basic components like reason, will, passions, and desires, the different proportions and combinations create the endless variety of characters that set each person apart. Reason should guide everything, but it often doesn’t. A person who only appeals to another's reason without also engaging their heart is unlikely to succeed, much like someone who only approaches a king's official without considering the king’s favorite. As you step into the world, I recommend two books for you to read closely, which will help you understand human character as much as books can: ‘Les Réflexions Morales de Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld’ and ‘Les Caractères de La Bruyère’. Just remember, I’m recommending them as useful general guides for your journey, not as detailed maps that show every twist and turn you’ll encounter. Your own insight and observation must come into play as well. I know La Rochefoucauld is often criticized, but I think that’s unfounded because he asserts that all our actions stem from self-love. For my part, I see a lot of truth and no harm in that view. We undoubtedly seek our happiness in everything we do, and it’s equally true that we can only find it in acting rightly and aligning our actions with the principles of reason, which is the fundamental law of nature. Only misguided self-love is a blameworthy motive when we mistake immediate gratification of a desire for true happiness. But am I at fault if I perform a good deed because it brings me joy knowing I did the right thing? Certainly not. In fact, that satisfaction is evidence of my virtue. One of the most criticized reflections in La Rochefoucauld's book claims, 'In the misfortune of your best friend, there's something that doesn't displease you.’ But why not? Can’t I genuinely feel empathy for my friend’s misfortune while also take satisfaction in fulfilling my duty to support and comfort them in their time of need? Just give me virtuous actions, and I won’t nitpick about the motives. I’ll agree to either of these two truths, which mean the same thing: The person who loves themselves best is fundamentally the most honest person; or, The most honest person loves themselves best.
The characters of La Bruyere are pictures from the life; most of them finely drawn, and highly colored. Furnish your mind with them first, and when you meet with their likeness, as you will every day, they will strike you the more. You will compare every feature with the original; and both will reciprocally help you to discover the beauties and the blemishes.
The characters of La Bruyere are snapshots of life; most of them are well-defined and vividly portrayed. Fill your mind with them first, and when you encounter their equivalents, which you will do every day, they will resonate with you more. You’ll compare every detail with the original, and both will help you recognize the strengths and weaknesses.
As women are a considerable, or, at least a pretty numerous part of company; and as their suffrages go a great way toward establishing a man’s character in the fashionable part of the world (which is of great importance to the fortune and figure he proposes to make in it), it is necessary to please them. I will therefore, upon this subject, let you into certain Arcana that will be very useful for you to know, but which you must, with the utmost care, conceal and never seem to know. Women, then, are only children of a larger growth; they have an entertaining tattle, and sometimes wit; but for solid reasoning, good sense, I never knew in my life one that had it, or who reasoned or acted consequentially for four-and-twenty hours together. Some little passion or humor always breaks upon their best resolutions. Their beauty neglected or controverted, their age increased, or their supposed understandings depreciated, instantly kindles their little passions, and overturns any system of consequential conduct, that in their most reasonable moments they might have been capable of forming. A man of sense only trifles with them, plays with them, humors and flatters them, as he does with a sprightly forward child; but he neither consults them about, nor trusts them with serious matters; though he often makes them believe that he does both; which is the thing in the world that they are proud of; for they love mightily to be dabbling in business (which by the way they always spoil); and being justly distrustful that men in general look upon them in a trifling light, they almost adore that man who talks more seriously to them, and who seems to consult and trust them; I say, who seems; for weak men really do, but wise ones only seem to do it. No flattery is either too high or too low for them. They will greedily swallow the highest, and gratefully accept of the lowest; and you may safely flatter any woman from her understanding down to the exquisite taste of her fan. Women who are either indisputably beautiful, or indisputably ugly, are best flattered, upon the score of their understandings; but those who are in a state of mediocrity, are best flattered upon their beauty, or at least their graces; for every woman who is not absolutely ugly thinks herself handsome; but not hearing often that she is so, is the more grateful and the more obliged to the few who tell her so; whereas a decided and conscious beauty looks upon every tribute paid to her beauty only as her due; but wants to shine, and to be considered on the side of her understanding; and a woman who is ugly enough to know that she is so, knows that she has nothing left for it but her understanding, which is consequently and probably (in more senses than one) her weak side. But these are secrets which you must keep inviolably, if you would not, like Orpheus, be torn to pieces by the whole sex; on the contrary, a man who thinks of living in the great world, must be gallant, polite, and attentive to please the women. They have, from the weakness of men, more or less influence in all courts; they absolutely stamp every man’s character in the beau monde, and make it either current, or cry it down, and stop it in payments. It is, therefore; absolutely necessary to manage, please, and flatter them and never to discover the least marks of contempt, which is what they never forgive; but in this they are not singular, for it is the same with men; who will much sooner forgive an injustice than an insult. Every man is not ambitious, or courteous, or passionate; but every man has pride enough in his composition to feel and resent the least slight and contempt. Remember, therefore, most carefully to conceal your contempt, however just, wherever you would not make an implacable enemy. Men are much more unwilling to have their weaknesses and their imperfections known than their crimes; and if you hint to a man that you think him silly, ignorant, or even ill-bred, or awkward, he will hate you more and longer, than if you tell him plainly, that you think him a rogue. Never yield to that temptation, which to most young men is very strong; of exposing other people’s weaknesses and infirmities, for the sake either of diverting the company, or showing your own superiority. You may get the laugh on your side by it for the present; but you will make enemies by it forever; and even those who laugh with you then, will, upon reflection, fear; and consequently hate you; besides that it is ill-natured, and a good heart desires rather to conceal than expose other people’s weaknesses or misfortunes. If you have wit, use it to please, and not to hurt: you may shine, like the sun in the temperate zones, without scorching. Here it is wished for; under the Line it is dreaded.
Since women make up a significant, or at least a pretty large part of society, and their opinions heavily influence a man's reputation in fashionable circles (which is crucial for the success and image he hopes to build), it's essential to win their favor. Therefore, I will share some insights that will be very useful for you to understand, but you must be extremely careful to hide this knowledge and never act like you possess it. Women are essentially just older children; they engage in entertaining gossip and occasionally show wit, but when it comes to solid reasoning or good sense, I’ve never met one who truly has it or who can think or act logically for a full twenty-four hours. Some little emotion or whim always disrupts their best intentions. If their beauty is overlooked, their age is mentioned, or their intelligence is called into question, it quickly stirs their emotions and derails any plan of logical behavior they might have formed during their most rational moments. A sensible man only plays around with them, humor them, flatter them, like he would with a lively child; he neither consults nor trusts them with serious matters, although he often makes them believe he does, which is what they take pride in; they love to pretend to be involved in serious business (which, by the way, they always mess up). Knowing that most men view them as frivolous, they almost worship the man who speaks seriously to them and who appears to seek their input and trust; I say appears, because foolish men genuinely do, while wise men only pretend to. No flattery is too grand or too minor for them. They will eagerly accept the highest flattery and gratefully receive the lowest; you can safely flatter any woman about her intellect down to the refined taste of her fan. Women who are either undeniably beautiful or definitely unattractive respond best to flattery about their intellect; but those who fall somewhere in between are best flattered about their looks or at least their charm; because any woman who is not completely unattractive believes she is pretty; however, since they don’t often hear it, they are more grateful and appreciative to the few who tell them so. On the other hand, a woman who is clearly beautiful sees every compliment paid to her beauty as her due; she wants to shine and be seen as intelligent; while a woman who knows she is unattractive understands that her only asset is her intellect, which is likely (in more ways than one) her vulnerable spot. But these are secrets you must keep strictly to yourself, or you might, like Orpheus, be torn apart by women. Conversely, a man who hopes to thrive in society must be charming, polite, and attentive to winning the approval of women. Due to men’s weaknesses, women have varying degrees of influence in all circles; they completely define every man’s reputation in high society, making it either accepted or rejected. Thus, it is absolutely essential to manage, please, and flatter them while never showing even the slightest hint of disdain, something they never forgive; but they’re not unique in this; men feel the same way, as they will forgive injustices more readily than an insult. Not every man is ambitious, polite, or passionate, but every man has enough pride to feel and resent even the smallest slight or disrespect. So, make sure to hide your contempt, however valid, wherever you wish to avoid making an enemy for life. Men are far more resistant to having their flaws and imperfections exposed than their crimes; if you suggest to a man that you find him foolish, ignorant, or even rude or clumsy, he will hold onto that hatred much longer than if you simply called him a rogue. Never give in to the temptation, which can be very strong for many young men, to reveal other people's weaknesses and flaws, whether to amuse the company or to show off your superiority. You might get a laugh in the moment, but you’ll make lasting enemies; even those who laugh with you will eventually feel threatened and come to resent you; besides being malicious, a good heart prefers to conceal rather than expose others' weaknesses or misfortunes. If you have wit, use it to uplift, not to hurt: you can shine, like the sun in temperate zones, without scorching. Here, it’s welcomed; in harsher conditions, it’s feared.
These are some of the hints which my long experience in the great world enables me to give you; and which, if you attend to them, may prove useful to you in your journey through it. I wish it may be a prosperous one; at least, I am sure that it must be your own fault if it is not.
These are some tips from my extensive experience in the real world that I can share with you. If you pay attention to them, they could be helpful on your journey. I hope it goes well for you; at the very least, it will be your own fault if it doesn’t.
Make my compliments to Mr. Harte, who, I am very sorry to hear, is not well. I hope by this time he is recovered. Adieu!
Please pass on my regards to Mr. Harte, who I’m very sorry to hear isn’t feeling well. I hope he has recovered by now. Goodbye!
LETTER L
LONDON, September 13, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I have more than once recommended to you the “Memoirs” of the Cardinal de Retz, and to attend particularly to the political reflections interspersed in that excellent work. I will now preach a little upon two or three of those texts.
DEAR BOY: I've suggested to you more than once the "Memoirs" of Cardinal de Retz, and to especially pay attention to the political insights throughout that great work. Now, I’d like to discuss a few of those ideas.
In the disturbances at Paris, Monsieur de Beaufort, who was a very popular, though a very weak man, was the Cardinal’s tool with the populace.
In the unrest in Paris, Monsieur de Beaufort, who was quite popular but also quite weak, served as the Cardinal’s pawn with the people.
Proud of his popularity, he was always for assembling the people of Paris together, thinking that he made a great figure at the head of them. The Cardinal, who was factious enough, was wise enough at the same time to avoid gathering the people together, except when there was occasion, and when he had something particular for them to do. However, he could not always check Monsieur de Beaufort; who having assembled them once very unnecessarily, and without any determined object, they ran riot, would not be kept within bounds by their leaders, and did their cause a great deal of harm: upon which the Cardinal observes most judiciously, ‘Que Monsieur de Beaufort me savoit pas, que qui assemble le peuple, l’emeut’. It is certain, that great numbers of people met together, animate each other, and will do something, either good or bad, but oftener bad; and the respective individuals, who were separately very quiet, when met together in numbers, grow tumultuous as a body, and ripe for any mischief that may be pointed out to them by the leaders; and, if their leaders have no business for them, they will find some for themselves. The demagogues, or leaders of popular factions, should therefore be very careful not to assemble the people unnecessarily, and without a settled and well-considered object. Besides that, by making those popular assemblies too frequent, they make them likewise too familiar, and consequently less respected by their enemies. Observe any meetings of people, and you will always find their eagerness and impetuosity rise or fall in proportion to their numbers: when the numbers are very great, all sense and reason seem to subside, and one sudden frenzy to seize on all, even the coolest of them.
Proud of his popularity, he was always eager to gather the people of Paris together, believing it made him a significant figure among them. The Cardinal, who had his own agendas, was smart enough to avoid bringing people together unnecessarily, only doing so when there was a clear purpose or task for them. However, he couldn't always control Monsieur de Beaufort, who once gathered them without any real reason, leading to chaos. The crowd acted wildly, ignoring their leaders, which ultimately harmed their cause. The Cardinal wisely noted, “Monsieur de Beaufort doesn’t realize that whoever gathers the people stirs them up.” It’s clear that large groups can motivate each other to act, whether for good or bad, but more often for bad; individuals who are usually calm can become rowdy in groups, ready for mischief at the suggestion of leaders. If those leaders don't provide direction, the crowd will create their own. Therefore, demagogues or leaders of popular movements should be very cautious about assembling people for no good reason or without a solid purpose. Additionally, making these gatherings too frequent causes them to become too ordinary, reducing their respect from rivals. If you observe any gatherings, you’ll notice that the excitement and intensity fluctuate with the number of people present: when the crowd is very large, rational thought seems to dissipate, and a sudden frenzy can take hold of even the most composed individuals.
Another very just observation of the Cardinal’s is, That, the things which happen in our own times, and which we see ourselves, do not surprise us near so much as the things which we read of in times past, though not in the least more extraordinary; and adds, that he is persuaded that when Caligula made his horse a Consul, the people of Rome, at that time, were not greatly surprised at it, having necessarily been in some degree prepared for it, by an insensible gradation of extravagances from the same quarter. This is so true that we read every day, with astonishment, things which we see every day without surprise. We wonder at the intrepidity of a Leonidas, a Codrus, and a Curtius; and are not the least surprised to hear of a sea-captain, who has blown up his ship, his crew, and himself, that they might not fall into the hands of the enemies of his country. I cannot help reading of Porsenna and Regulus, with surprise and reverence, and yet I remember that I saw, without either, the execution of Shepherd,—[James Shepherd, a coach-painter’s apprentice, was executed at Tyburn for high treason, March 17, 1718, in the reign of George I.]—a boy of eighteen years old, who intended to shoot the late king, and who would have been pardoned, if he would have expressed the least sorrow for his intended crime; but, on the contrary, he declared that if he was pardoned he would attempt it again; that he thought it a duty which he owed to his country, and that he died with pleasure for having endeavored to perform it. Reason equals Shepherd to Regulus; but prejudice, and the recency of the fact, make Shepherd a common malefactor and Regulus a hero.
Another very relevant observation by the Cardinal is that the events happening in our own time, which we witness ourselves, don’t shock us nearly as much as the things we read about from the past, even though they’re not any more extraordinary. He believes that when Caligula appointed his horse as a Consul, the people of Rome at that time were not particularly surprised by it, since they had been gradually getting used to a series of absurdities from the same source. This is so true that we read about astonishing things every day that we see without any surprise. We marvel at the bravery of a Leonidas, a Codrus, and a Curtius, yet we aren’t at all surprised to hear about a sea captain who blew up his ship, his crew, and himself to avoid falling into the hands of the enemies of his country. I can’t help but read about Porsenna and Regulus with amazement and respect, and yet I remember seeing without any reaction the execution of Shepherd—[James Shepherd, a coach-painter’s apprentice, was executed at Tyburn for high treason, March 17, 1718, in the reign of George I.]—a boy of eighteen who planned to shoot the late king and would have been pardoned if he had expressed the slightest regret for his intended crime; but instead, he stated that if he was pardoned, he would try again, claiming it was a duty to his country, and that he was pleased to die for having attempted it. Reason treats Shepherd as equal to Regulus; however, bias, and the recentness of the event, reduce Shepherd to a common criminal while elevating Regulus to the status of a hero.
Examine carefully, and reconsider all your notions of things; analyze them, and discover their component parts, and see if habit and prejudice are not the principal ones; weigh the matter upon which you are to form your opinion, in the equal and impartial scales of reason. It is not to be conceived how many people, capable of reasoning, if they would, live and die in a thousand errors, from laziness; they will rather adopt the prejudices of others, than give themselves the trouble of forming opinions of their own. They say things, at first, because other people have said them, and then they persist in them, because they have said them themselves.
Take a close look and rethink all your ideas about things; break them down and figure out their basic parts, and see if habits and biases aren’t the main ones. Weigh the issues you’re forming an opinion on with the fair and unbiased scales of reason. It’s hard to believe how many people, who could use their reasoning if they wanted to, go through life making countless mistakes out of laziness. They’d rather adopt other people's prejudices than take the time to form their own opinions. They start saying things just because others have said them, and then they stick with those ideas just because they’ve said them themselves.
The last observation that I shall now mention of the Cardinal’s is, “That a secret is more easily kept by a good many people, than one commonly imagines.” By this he means a secret of importance, among people interested in the keeping of it. And it is certain that people of business know the importance of secrecy, and will observe it, where they are concerned in the event. To go and tell any friend, wife, or mistress, any secret with which they have nothing to do, is discovering to them such an unretentive weakness, as must convince them that you will tell it to twenty others, and consequently that they may reveal it without the risk of being discovered. But a secret properly communicated only to those who are to be concerned in the thing in question, will probably be kept by them though they should be a good many. Little secrets are commonly told again, but great ones are generally kept. Adieu!
The last point I want to mention from the Cardinal is, “A secret can be kept by a lot of people more easily than most people think.” He means an important secret shared among those invested in keeping it. It's true that business people understand the value of secrecy and will uphold it when they have a stake in the outcome. If you go and tell a friend, partner, or lover a secret that doesn’t involve them, it shows such a lack of restraint that they’ll be convinced you’ll spill it to twenty others. This means they might share it without worrying about being caught. However, if a secret is shared only with those directly involved, they'll likely keep it even if there are quite a few of them. Small secrets often get passed around, but big ones are usually kept. Goodbye!
LETTER LI
LONDON, September 20, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I wait with impatience for your accurate history of the ‘Chevaliers Forte Epees’, which you promised me in your last, and which I take to be the forerunner of a larger work that you intend to give the public, containing a general account of all the religious and military orders of Europe. Seriously, you will do well to have a general notion of all those orders, ancient and modern; both as they are frequently the subjects of conversation, and as they are more or less interwoven with the histories of those times. Witness the Teutonic Order, which, as soon as it gained strength, began its unjust depredations in Germany, and acquired such considerable possessions there; and the Order of Malta also, which continues to this day its piracies upon the Infidels. Besides one can go into no company in Germany, without running against Monsieur le Chevalier, or Monsieur le Commandeur de l’ Ordre Teutonique. It is the same in all the other parts of Europe with regard to the Order of Malta, where you never go into company without meeting two or three Chevaliers or Commandeurs, who talk of their ‘Preuves’, their ‘Langues’, their ‘Caravanes’, etc., of all which things I am sure you would not willingly be ignorant. On the other hand, I do not mean that you should have a profound and minute knowledge of these matters, which are of a nature that a general knowledge of them is fully sufficient. I would not recommend you to read Abbe Vertot’s “History of the Order of Malta,” in four quarto volumes; that would be employing a great deal of good time very ill. But I would have you know the foundations, the objects, the INSIGNIA, and the short general history of them all.
DEAR BOY: I’m eagerly waiting for your detailed account of the ‘Chevaliers Forte Epees’ that you promised me in your last letter. I see it as a precursor to a bigger project you plan to share with the public, which should offer a general overview of all the religious and military orders in Europe. Seriously, it would be beneficial for you to have a broad understanding of all those orders, both ancient and modern. They often come up in conversation and are intertwined with the histories of those times. Take the Teutonic Order, for instance, which, as soon as it gained strength, began its unjust raids in Germany and amassed significant wealth there. Then there’s the Order of Malta, which still engages in piracy against the Infidels today. You can’t enter any social circle in Germany without encountering Monsieur le Chevalier or Monsieur le Commandeur of the Teutonic Order. It’s the same across Europe with the Order of Malta, where you’ll find two or three Chevaliers or Commandeurs talking about their ‘Preuves,’ ‘Langues,’ ‘Caravanes,’ and more—topics I’m sure you wouldn't want to be clueless about. That said, I don’t mean for you to have an exhaustive and intricate knowledge of these things; a general awareness is more than enough. I wouldn't suggest you read Abbe Vertot’s “History of the Order of Malta” in four quarto volumes; that would be wasting a lot of your valuable time. But I do want you to know the basics—the foundations, the objectives, the INSIGNIA, and a brief general history of all these orders.
As for the ancient religious military orders, which were chiefly founded in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, such as Malta, the Teutonic, the Knights Templars, etc., the injustice and the wickedness of those establishments cannot, I am sure, have escaped your observation. Their pious object was, to take away by force other people’s property, and to massacre the proprietors themselves if they refused to give up that property, and adopt the opinions of these invaders. What right or pretense had these confederated Christians of Europe to the Holy Land? Let them produce their grant of it in the Bible. Will they say, that the Saracens had possessed themselves of it by force, and that, consequently, they had the same right? Is it lawful then to steal goods because they were stolen before? Surely not. The truth is, that the wickedness of many, and the weakness of more, in those ages of ignorance and superstition, concurred to form those flagitious conspiracies against the lives and properties of unoffending people. The Pope sanctified the villany, and annexed the pardon of sins to the perpetration of it. This gave rise to the Crusaders, and carried such swarms of people from Europe to the conquests of the Holy Land. Peter the Hermit, an active and ambitious priest, by his indefatigable pains, was the immediate author of the first crusade; kings, princes, all professions and characters united, from different motives, in this great undertaking, as every sentiment, except true religion and morality, invited to it. The ambitious hoped for kingdoms; the greedy and the necessitous for plunder; and some were enthusiasts enough to hope for salvation, by the destruction of a considerable number of their fellow creatures, who had done them no injury. I cannot omit, upon this occasion, telling you that the Eastern emperors at Constantinople (who, as Christians, were obliged at least to seem to favor these expeditions), seeing the immense numbers of the ‘Croisez’, and fearing that the Western Empire might have some mind to the Eastern Empire too, if it succeeded against the Infidels, as ‘l’appetit vient en mangeant’; these Eastern emperors, very honestly, poisoned the waters where the ‘Croisez’ were to pass, and so destroyed infinite numbers of them.
As for the ancient religious military orders established mainly in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, like Malta, the Teutonic Knights, and the Knights Templar, you must have noticed the injustice and evil involved in those groups. Their supposed mission was to violently seize other people's property and to kill the owners if they refused to surrender that property and adopt the beliefs of these invaders. What right or justification did these united Christians of Europe have to the Holy Land? They should provide their claim for it in the Bible. Will they argue that the Saracens took it by force and therefore had the same right? Is it acceptable to steal because something was stolen before? Certainly not. The reality is that the wickedness of many and the ignorance of even more in those times of superstition contributed to creating these infamous plots against the lives and properties of innocent people. The Pope blessed these atrocities and tied the forgiveness of sins to their execution. This led to the Crusaders and sent countless people from Europe to conquer the Holy Land. Peter the Hermit, a driven and ambitious priest, was the main force behind the first crusade through his tireless efforts; kings, princes, and people from various walks of life joined this major endeavor for different reasons, with every motive except true religion and morality pushing them forward. The ambitious sought kingdoms; the greedy and desperate aimed for loot; and some were misguided enough to believe they could achieve salvation by annihilating many of their fellow humans who had done them no harm. I should also mention that the Eastern emperors in Constantinople, who, as Christians, had to at least pretend to support these expeditions, saw the massive numbers of the Crusaders and worried that the Western Empire might also have designs on the Eastern Empire if it succeeded against the Infidels, as “appetite grows with eating.” So, these Eastern emperors, quite honestly, poisoned the water that the Crusaders would pass through, leading to the destruction of countless numbers of them.
The later orders of knighthood, such as the Garter in England; the Elephant in Denmark; the Golden Fleece in Burgundy; the St. Esprit, St. Michel, St. Louis, and St. Lazare, in France etc., are of a very different nature and were either the invitations to, or the rewards of; brave actions in fair war; and are now rather the decorations of the favor of the prince, than the proofs of the merit of the subject. However, they are worth your inquiries to a certain degree, and conversation will give you frequent opportunities for them. Wherever you are, I would advise you to inquire into the respective orders of that country, and to write down a short account of them. For example, while you are in Saxony, get an account of l’Aigle Blanc and of what other orders there may be, either Polish or Saxon; and, when you shall be at Berlin, inform yourself of three orders, l’Aigle Noir, la Generosite et le Vrai Merite, which are the only ones that I know of there. But whenever you meet with straggling ribands and stars, as you will with a thousand in Germany, do not fail to inquire what they are, and to take a minute of them in your memorandum book; for it is a sort of knowledge that costs little to acquire, and yet it is of some use. Young people have frequently an incuriousness about them, arising either from laziness, or a contempt of the object, which deprives them of several such little parts of knowledge, that they afterward wish they had acquired. If you will put conversation to profit, great knowledge may be gained by it; and is it not better (since it is full as easy) to turn it upon useful than upon useless subjects? People always talk best upon what they know most, and it is both pleasing them and improving one’s self, to put them upon that subject. With people of a particular profession, or of a distinguished eminency in any branch of learning, one is not at a loss; but with those, whether men or women, who properly constitute what is called the beau monde, one must not choose deep subjects, nor hope to get any knowledge above that of orders, ranks, families, and court anecdotes; which are therefore the proper (and not altogether useless) subjects of that kind of conversation. Women, especially, are to be talked to as below men and above children. If you talk to them too deep, you only confound them, and lose your own labor; if you talk to them too frivolously, they perceive and resent the contempt. The proper tone for them is, what the French call the ‘Entregent’, and is, in truth, the polite jargon of good company. Thus, if you are a good chemist, you may extract something out of everything.
The later orders of knighthood, like the Garter in England, the Elephant in Denmark, the Golden Fleece in Burgundy, and the St. Esprit, St. Michel, St. Louis, and St. Lazare in France, are quite different from earlier ones. They were either invitations to or rewards for brave actions in fair wars, and now they're more about royal favor than proof of a person's merit. However, they’re certainly worth looking into, and you’ll find plenty of opportunities to discuss them. Wherever you go, I suggest you ask about the various orders in that country and jot down a brief overview of them. For instance, while you’re in Saxony, learn about l’Aigle Blanc and any other Polish or Saxon orders that might exist; and when you get to Berlin, find out about three orders—l’Aigle Noir, la Generosite, and le Vrai Merite—which are the only ones I know of in that area. Whenever you come across random ribbons and stars, which you’ll see plenty of in Germany, be sure to ask about them and note them in your notebook; this knowledge is easy to pick up and can be quite useful. Young people often show a lack of curiosity, whether from laziness or disdain for the subject, which causes them to miss out on useful tidbits of knowledge they later wish they’d known. If you engage in conversation with purpose, you can gain a lot of insights, and isn’t it better (since it’s just as easy) to focus on useful topics rather than trivial ones? People talk best about what they know most, and discussing those subjects not only pleases them but also helps you learn. With professionals or distinguished individuals in specific fields, you won't have trouble finding engaging topics, but with those who fit into the beau monde, stick to lighter subjects and don’t expect to gain knowledge beyond orders, ranks, family matters, and court gossip—these are the suitable (though not entirely useless) topics for that kind of conversation. Women, in particular, should be engaged with as if they're between men and children. If you delve too deeply, you’ll confuse them and waste your effort; if you’re too trivial, they’ll notice and resent the condescension. The appropriate tone is what the French call ‘Entregent’, which is essentially the polite chit-chat of good company. So, if you’re a good chemist, you’ll be able to get something out of everything.
A propos of the beau monde, I must again and again recommend the Graces to you: There is no doing without them in that world; and, to make a good figure in that world, is a great step toward making one in the world of business, particularly that part of it for which you are destined. An ungraceful manner of speaking, awkward motions, and a disagreeable address, are great clogs to the ablest man of business, as the opposite qualifications are of infinite advantage to him. I am told there is a very good dancing-master at Leipsig. I would have you dance a minuet very well, not so much for the sake of the minuet itself (though that, if danced at all, ought to be danced, well), as that it will give you a habitual genteel carriage and manner of presenting yourself.
Regarding the high society, I must keep recommending the Graces to you: You can’t do without them in that world; and making a good impression there is a significant step towards succeeding in the business world, especially in the area you’re meant for. An awkward way of speaking, clumsy movements, and an unpleasant demeanor can really hold back even the most capable businessperson, while the opposite traits can be incredibly beneficial. I’ve heard there’s a great dance instructor in Leipzig. I want you to learn to dance a minuet really well, not just for the sake of the minuet itself (though if you’re going to dance it, it should be done well), but because it will help you develop a natural, stylish way of carrying yourself and presenting yourself to others.
Since I am upon little things, I must mention another, which, though little enough in itself, yet as it occurs at, least once in every day, deserves some attention; I mean Carving. Do you use yourself to carve ADROITLY and genteelly, without hacking half an hour across a bone; without bespattering the company with the sauce; and without overturning the glasses into your neighbor’s pockets? These awkwardnesses are extremely disagreeable; and, if often repeated, bring ridicule. They are very easily avoided by a little attention and use.
Since I focus on small details, I should mention another one that, while minor, happens at least once every day and deserves some attention; I’m talking about carving. Do you know how to carve skillfully and elegantly, without spending half an hour hacking at a bone, without splattering sauce on everyone, and without tipping glasses into your neighbor’s lap? These clumsy moves are really unpleasant, and if they happen often, they lead to embarrassment. They can be easily avoided with a bit of practice and focus.
How trifling soever these things may seem, or really be in themselves, they are no longer so when above half the world thinks them otherwise. And, as I would have you ‘omnibus ornatum—excellere rebus’, I think nothing above or below my pointing out to you, or your excelling in. You have the means of doing it, and time before you to make use of them. Take my word for it, I ask nothing now but what you will, twenty years hence, most heartily wish that you had done. Attention to all these things, for the next two or three years, will save you infinite trouble and endless regrets hereafter. May you, in the whole course of your life, have no reason for any one just regret! Adieu.
No matter how trivial these things may seem or actually be, they matter a lot when more than half the world thinks otherwise. I want you to stand out and excel, and I believe there's nothing I can point out to you that you shouldn't aim for excellence in. You have the resources and time to make the most of them. Trust me, I'm asking for nothing now that you won’t wholeheartedly wish you had done twenty years from now. Paying attention to these matters over the next two or three years will save you a ton of trouble and regrets later on. I hope you never have a reason to regret anything in your entire life! Goodbye.
Your Dresden china is arrived, and I have sent it to your Mamma.
Your Dresden china has arrived, and I’ve sent it to your mom.
LETTER LII
LONDON, September 27, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I have received your Latin “Lecture upon War,” which though it is not exactly the same Latin that Caesar, Cicero, Horace, Virgil, and Ovid spoke, is, however, as good Latin as the erudite Germans speak or write. I have always observed that the most learned people, that is, those who have read the most Latin, write the worst; and that distinguishes the Latin of gentleman scholar from that of a pedant. A gentleman has, probably, read no other Latin than that of the Augustan age; and therefore can write no other, whereas the pedant has read much more bad Latin than good, and consequently writes so too. He looks upon the best classical books, as books for school-boys, and consequently below him; but pores over fragments of obscure authors, treasures up the obsolete words which he meets with there, and uses them upon all occasions to show his reading at the expense of his judgment. Plautus is his favorite author, not for the sake of the wit and the vis comica of his comedies, but upon account of the many obsolete words, and the cant of low characters, which are to be met with nowhere else. He will rather use ‘olli’ than ‘illi’, ‘optume’ than ‘optima’, and any bad word rather than any good one, provided he can but prove, that strictly speaking, it is Latin; that is, that it was written by a Roman. By this rule, I might now write to you in the language of Chaucer or Spenser, and assert that I wrote English, because it was English in their days; but I should be a most affected puppy if I did so, and you would not understand three words of my letter. All these, and such like affected peculiarities, are the characteristics of learned coxcombs and pedants, and are carefully avoided by all men of sense.
DEAR BOY: I’ve received your Latin “Lecture on War,” which, although it isn’t exactly the same Latin that Caesar, Cicero, Horace, Virgil, and Ovid used, is still as good Latin as what the educated Germans speak or write. I’ve always noticed that the most knowledgeable people—those who have read the most Latin—write the worst, and that separates the Latin of a gentleman scholar from that of a pedant. A gentleman has probably only read Latin from the Augustan age; therefore, he can only write that way. In contrast, the pedant has read much more bad Latin than good, and it shows in his writing. He views the best classical works as children’s books and beneath him; instead, he obsessively studies fragments of obscure authors, collects outdated words he finds, and uses them at every opportunity to show off his reading, regardless of his judgment. Plautus is his favorite author, not for the humor and comedic brilliance of his plays, but because of the many outdated words and the slang of low characters that he can't find anywhere else. He’d rather say ‘olli’ than ‘illi’, ‘optume’ over ‘optima’, and any bad word instead of a good one, just to prove that it is technically Latin—as long as it was written by a Roman. According to that logic, I could write to you in the language of Chaucer or Spenser and claim I’m writing English since it was English back then. But I’d just be a pretentious fool if I did that, and you wouldn’t understand three words of my letter. All these, and similar pretentious quirks, are traits of learned fools and pedants, and are carefully avoided by all sensible people.
I dipped accidentally, the other day, into Pitiscus’s preface to his “Lexicon,” where I found a word that puzzled me, and which I did not remember ever to have met with before. It is the adverb ‘praefiscine’, which means, IN A GOOD HOUR; an expression which, by the superstition of it, appears to be low and vulgar. I looked for it: and at last I found that it is once or twice made use of in Plautus, upon the strength of which this learned pedant thrusts it into his preface. Whenever you write Latin, remember that every word or phrase which you make use of, but cannot find in Caesar, Cicero, Livy, Horace, Virgil; and Ovid, is bad, illiberal Latin, though it may have been written by a Roman.
The other day, I accidentally came across Pitiscus’s preface to his “Lexicon,” where I found a word that puzzled me, one I couldn't remember ever encountering before. It’s the adverb ‘praefiscine,’ which means, IN A GOOD HOUR; a term that, due to its superstition, seems low and vulgar. I searched for it and eventually found that it appears once or twice in Plautus, which this scholarly pedant uses to justify including it in his preface. Whenever you write in Latin, remember that any word or phrase you use but can’t find in Caesar, Cicero, Livy, Horace, Virgil, or Ovid is poor, unrefined Latin, even if it was written by a Roman.
I must now say something as to the matter of the “Lecture,” in which I confess there is one doctrine laid down that surprises me: It is this, ‘Quum vero hostis sit lenta citave morte omnia dira nobis minitans quocunque bellantibus negotium est; parum sane interfuerit quo modo eum obruere et interficere satagamus, si ferociam exuere cunctetur. Ergo veneno quoque uti fas est’, etc., whereas I cannot conceive that the use of poison can, upon any account, come within the lawful means of self-defense. Force may, without doubt, be justly repelled by force, but not by treachery and fraud; for I do not call the stratagems of war, such as ambuscades, masked batteries, false attacks, etc., frauds or treachery: They are mutually to be expected and guarded against; but poisoned arrows, poisoned waters, or poison administered to your enemy (which can only be done by treachery), I have always heard, read, and thought, to be unlawful and infamous means of defense, be your danger ever so great: But ‘si ferociam exuere cunctetur’; must I rather die than poison this enemy? Yes, certainly, much rather die than do a base or criminal action; nor can I be sure, beforehand, that this enemy may not, in the last moment, ‘ferociam exuere’. But the public lawyers, now, seem to me rather to warp the law, in order to authorize, than to check, those unlawful proceedings of princes and states; which, by being become common, appear less criminal, though custom can never alter the nature of good and ill.
I need to address the topic of the “Lecture,” where I admit I'm surprised by one point they make: It’s stated that “when the enemy threatens us with a slow or swift death, no matter who we are fighting, it hardly matters how we strive to overwhelm and kill him if he hesitates to shed his ferocity. Therefore, it’s permissible to use poison,” etc. Personally, I can’t understand how using poison can ever count as a legitimate means of self-defense. While it's justifiable to respond to force with force, it cannot involve deceit and betrayal. I don’t consider military tactics like ambushes, hidden artillery, or feigned attacks to be deceitful or treacherous; these strategies are expected and can be prepared for. However, using poisoned arrows, contaminated water, or administering poison to your enemy (which can only be done through treachery) has always struck me as unlawful and disgraceful, no matter how great the danger. Should I really choose to die rather than poison my enemy? Yes, I would definitely prefer to die than commit an immoral or criminal act; and I can't be certain this enemy won’t decide to shed his ferocity at the last moment. But the public lawyers today seem to twist the law more to justify than to discourage these unlawful actions by rulers and states. As these actions become commonplace, they seem less criminal, even though custom can never change the essence of right and wrong.
Pray let no quibbles of lawyers, no refinements of casuists, break into the plain notions of right and wrong, which every man’s right reason and plain common sense suggest to him. To do as you would be done by, is the plain, sure, and undisputed rule of morality and justice. Stick to that; and be convinced that whatever breaks into it, in any degree, however speciously it may be turned, and however puzzling it may be to answer it, is, notwithstanding, false in itself, unjust, and criminal. I do not know a crime in the world, which is not by the casuists among the Jesuits (especially the twenty-four collected, I think, by Escobar) allowed, in some, or many cases, not to be criminal. The principles first laid down by them are often specious, the reasonings plausible, but the conclusion always a lie: for it is contrary, to that evident and undeniable rule of justice which I have mentioned above, of not doing to anyone what you would not have him do to you. But, however, these refined pieces of casuistry and sophistry, being very convenient and welcome to people’s passions and appetites, they gladly accept the indulgence, without desiring to detect the fallacy or the reasoning: and indeed many, I might say most people, are not able to do it; which makes the publication of such quibblings and refinements the more pernicious. I am no skillful casuist nor subtle disputant; and yet I would undertake to justify and qualify the profession of a highwayman, step by step, and so plausibly, as to make many ignorant people embrace the profession, as an innocent, if not even a laudable one; and puzzle people of some degree of knowledge, to answer me point by point. I have seen a book, entitled ‘Quidlibet ex Quolibet’, or the art of making anything out of anything; which is not so difficult as it would seem, if once one quits certain plain truths, obvious in gross to every understanding, in order to run after the ingenious refinements of warm imaginations and speculative reasonings. Doctor Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, a very worthy, ingenious, and learned man, has written a book, to prove that there is no such thing as matter, and that nothing exists but in idea: that you and I only fancy ourselves eating, drinking, and sleeping; you at Leipsig, and I at London: that we think we have flesh and blood, legs, arms, etc., but that we are only spirit. His arguments are, strictly speaking, unanswerable; but yet I am so far from being convinced by them, that I am determined to go on to eat and drink, and walk and ride, in order to keep that MATTER, which I so mistakenly imagine my body at present to consist of, in as good plight as possible. Common sense (which, in truth, very uncommon) is the best sense I know of: abide by it, it will counsel you best. Read and hear, for your amusement, ingenious systems, nice questions subtilly agitated, with all the refinements that warm imaginations suggest; but consider them only as exercitations for the mind, and turn always to settle with common sense.
Please don’t let any lawyer arguments or complex reasoning interfere with the straightforward ideas of right and wrong that everyone’s common sense suggests. Treat others as you want to be treated; that’s the clear, undeniable rule of morality and justice. Stick to that, and remember that anything that challenges it, no matter how cleverly presented or confusing it may seem, is still false, unjust, and wrong. I don’t know of any crime that isn’t at times deemed non-criminal by the Jesuit casuists (especially the twenty-four cases compiled by Escobar). The principles they lay down can sound appealing, their reasoning may seem reasonable, but the conclusions are always false because they contradict that clear and undeniable rule of justice I mentioned: don’t do to others what you wouldn’t want done to you. However, these clever arguments and sophistries are convenient and appealing to people's desires, so they easily accept these justifications without realizing the flaws in the reasoning; in fact, many—if not most—people are unable to recognize them, which makes the spread of such arguments even more harmful. I’m not a skilled casuist or a subtle debater, yet I could make a case for being a highway robber step by step, so convincingly that many uninformed people might see it as an innocent, if not admirable, choice; and I could stump those with some knowledge by addressing each point I make. I once came across a book called ‘Quidlibet ex Quolibet’, or the art of making anything out of anything; which isn’t as hard as it sounds if one abandons certain obvious truths that any reasonable person can see and instead chases after the clever arguments of active imaginations and theoretical reasoning. Doctor Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, a very respectable, clever, and knowledgeable man, wrote a book arguing that matter doesn’t actually exist and that nothing exists outside of ideas: that you and I just think we’re eating, drinking, and sleeping; you in Leipzig and I in London; that we believe we have flesh, blood, legs, arms, etc., but that we’re really just spirit. His arguments are, in a strict sense, unchallengeable; yet I am so far from being convinced that I intend to continue eating, drinking, walking, and riding to take care of what I mistakenly believe to be the matter—my body—as well as I can. Common sense (which, in reality, is quite rare) is the best sense I know of: stick with it; it will guide you well. Enjoy reading and hearing about clever theories and complicated questions with all the intricate ideas that creative minds can come up with, but treat them only as exercises for your thinking and always return to settle matters with common sense.
I stumbled, the other day, at a bookseller’s, upon “Comte Gabalis,” in two very little volumes, which I had formerly read. I read it over again, and with fresh astonishment. Most of the extravagances are taken from the Jewish Rabbins, who broached those wild notions, and delivered them in the unintelligible jargon which the Caballists and Rosicrucians deal in to this day. Their number is, I believe, much lessened, but there are still some; and I myself have known two; who studied and firmly believed in that mystical nonsense. What extravagancy is not man capable of entertaining, when once his shackled reason is led in triumph by fancy and prejudice! The ancient alchemists give very much into this stuff, by which they thought they should discover the philosopher’s stone; and some of the most celebrated empirics employed it in the pursuit of the universal medicine. Paracelsus, a bold empiric and wild Caballist, asserted that he had discovered it, and called it his ‘Alkahest’. Why or wherefore, God knows; only that those madmen call nothing by an intelligible name. You may easily get this book from The Hague: read it, for it will both divert and astonish you, and at the same time teach you ‘nil admirari’; a very necessary lesson.
I came across “Comte Gabalis” the other day at a bookstore, in two very small volumes that I had read before. I read it again and was amazed all over again. Most of the wild ideas come from Jewish Rabbis, who proposed these crazy notions and expressed them in the confusing jargon that Caballists and Rosicrucians still use today. I believe their numbers have decreased, but some still exist; I’ve actually known two who studied and truly believed in that mystical nonsense. What crazy notions can’t people entertain when their restrained reason is led astray by imagination and bias! The ancient alchemists heavily invested in this stuff, thinking it would lead them to the philosopher's stone, and some of the most famous practitioners used it in their search for universal medicine. Paracelsus, a daring practitioner and eccentric Caballist, claimed to have found it and called it his 'Alkahest.' Why or how, only God knows; those madmen don’t use clear names for anything. You can easily find this book in The Hague: read it, as it will entertain and astonish you while also teaching you ‘nil admirari’; a very important lesson.
Your letters, except when upon a given subject, are exceedingly laconic, and neither answer my desires nor the purpose of letters; which should be familiar conversations, between absent friends. As I desire to live with you upon the footing of an intimate friend, and not of a parent, I could wish that your letters gave me more particular accounts of yourself, and of your lesser transactions. When you write to me, suppose yourself conversing freely with me by the fireside. In that case, you would naturally mention the incidents of the day; as where you had been, who you had seen, what you thought of them, etc. Do this in your letters: acquaint me sometimes with your studies, sometimes with your diversions; tell me of any new persons and characters that you meet with in company, and add your own observations upon them: in short, let me see more of you in your letters. How do you go on with Lord Pulteney, and how does he go on at Leipsig? Has he learning, has he parts, has he application? Is he good or ill-natured? In short, What is he? at least, what do you think him? You may tell me without reserve, for I promise you secrecy. You are now of an age that I am desirous to begin a confidential correspondence with you; and as I shall, on my part, write you very freely my opinion upon men and things, which I should often be very unwilling that anybody but you and Mr. Harte should see, so, on your part, if you write me without reserve, you may depend upon my inviolable secrecy. If you have ever looked into the “Letters” of Madame de Sevigne to her daughter, Madame de Grignan, you must have observed the ease, freedom, and friendship of that correspondence; and yet, I hope and I believe, that they did not love one another better than we do. Tell me what books you are now reading, either by way of study or amusement; how you pass your evenings when at home, and where you pass them when abroad. I know that you go sometimes to Madame Valentin’s assembly; What do you do there? Do you play, or sup, or is it only ‘la belle conversation?’ Do you mind your dancing while your dancing-master is with you? As you will be often under the necessity of dancing a minuet, I would have you dance it very well. Remember, that the graceful motion of the arms, the giving your hand, and the putting on and pulling off your hat genteelly, are the material parts of a gentleman’s dancing. But the greatest advantage of dancing well is, that it necessarily teaches you to present yourself, to sit, stand, and walk, genteelly; all of which are of real importance to a man of fashion.
Your letters, except when they’re about a specific topic, are often way too brief, and they don’t meet my expectations or the purpose of letters, which should be like friendly chats between friends who are apart. I want us to relate as close friends rather than as a parent and child, so I’d love it if your letters included more detailed updates about yourself and your daily life. When you write to me, imagine you’re having a relaxed conversation with me by the fireplace. In that situation, you’d naturally share what happened that day—like where you went, who you saw, what you thought of them, and so on. Please do this in your letters: keep me updated on your studies and also your leisure activities; tell me about any new people you meet and your thoughts on them. Essentially, I’d like to know more about you through your letters. How are you getting along with Lord Pulteney, and how is he doing in Leipzig? Is he knowledgeable, talented, and dedicated? Is he pleasant or unpleasant? In short, what’s he like? At least, what do you think of him? You can share openly with me; I promise to keep it confidential. You’re at an age where I’m eager to start a trusting correspondence with you, and I’ll be very frank with you about my views on people and things, which I wouldn’t want anyone but you and Mr. Harte to see. If you write openly, you can trust me to keep it private. If you’ve ever read the “Letters” of Madame de Sevigné to her daughter, Madame de Grignan, you’ll notice the relaxed, open friendship in that exchange; I hope and believe they didn’t have a stronger bond than we do. Let me know what books you’re currently reading, whether for study or fun, how you spend your evenings at home, and where you go when you’re out. I know you sometimes attend Madame Valentin’s gatherings; what do you do there? Do you play games, have dinner, or just enjoy ‘la belle conversation’? Do you practice your dancing while your dance teacher is around? Since you’ll often need to dance a minuet, I want you to do it really well. Remember that graceful arm movements, offering your hand, and putting your hat on and taking it off gracefully are key parts of a gentleman’s dancing. But the biggest benefit of dancing well is that it naturally teaches you to present yourself properly—to sit, stand, and walk with style—which is really important for a man of fashion.
I should wish that you were polished before you go to Berlin; where, as you will be in a great deal of good company, I would have you have the right manners for it. It is a very considerable article to have ‘le ton de la bonne compagnie’, in your destination particularly. The principal business of a foreign minister is, to get into the secrets, and to know all ‘les allures’ of the courts at which he resides; this he can never bring about but by such a pleasing address, such engaging manners, and such an insinuating behavior, as may make him sought for, and in some measure domestic, in the best company and the best families of the place. He will then, indeed, be well informed of all that passes, either by the confidences made him, or by the carelessness of people in his company, who are accustomed to look upon him as one of them, and consequently are not upon their guard before him. For a minister who only goes to the court he resides at, in form, to ask an audience of the prince or the minister upon his last instructions, puts them upon their guard, and will never know anything more than what they have a mind that he should know. Here women may be put to some use. A king’s mistress, or a minister’s wife or mistress, may give great and useful informations; and are very apt to do it, being proud to show that they have been trusted. But then, in this case, the height of that sort of address, which, strikes women, is requisite; I mean that easy politeness, genteel and graceful address, and that ‘exterieur brilliant’ which they cannot withstand. There is a sort of men so like women, that they are to be taken just in the same way; I mean those who are commonly called FINE MEN; who swarm at all courts; who have little reflection, and less knowledge; but, who by their good breeding, and ‘train-tran’ of the world, are admitted into all companies; and, by the imprudence or carelessness of their superiors, pick up secrets worth knowing, which are easily got out of them by proper address. Adieu.
I wish you would polish up your manners before you head to Berlin, where you'll be surrounded by a lot of good company, and I want you to have the right etiquette for it. It's really important to have a sense of "the tone of good company," especially in your destination. The main job of a foreign minister is to get into the inner circles and understand the dynamics of the courts where he’s based; he can only achieve that through a charming demeanor, engaging manners, and an inviting attitude that makes him sought after and somewhat part of the best circles and families in the area. In that case, he will truly be well-informed about everything happening, either through the confidences shared with him or the casualness of those around him, who come to see him as one of them and thus aren’t guarded in his presence. A minister who only visits the court formally to ask for an audience with the prince or the minister based on his last orders will keep everyone on alert and will never learn anything beyond what they want him to know. In this setting, women can be quite helpful. A king’s mistress, or a minister’s wife or mistress, can provide valuable information and often do, taking pride in being trusted. However, for this to work, it’s crucial to have that kind of charm and grace that appeals to women; I’m talking about easy politeness, stylish and graceful interactions, and that captivating exterior that they can’t resist. There are also men who resemble women in this regard; I mean those who are often referred to as FINE MEN, who populate all courts, who think little and know even less, but who, due to their good manners and worldly charm, are welcomed in all circles and, through the recklessness or neglect of their superiors, pick up secrets worth knowing, which can be easily extracted from them with the right approach. Goodbye.
LETTER LIII
BATH, October 12, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I came here three days ago upon account of a disorder in my stomach, which affected my head and gave me vertigo. I already find myself something better; and consequently do not doubt but that the course of these waters will set me quite right. But however and wherever I am, your welfare, your character, your knowledge, and your morals, employ my thoughts more than anything that can happen to me, or that I can fear or hope for myself. I am going off the stage, you are coming upon it; with me what has been, has been, and reflection now would come too late; with you everything is to come, even, in some manner, reflection itself; so that this is the very time when my reflections, the result of experience, may be of use to you, by supplying the want of yours. As soon as you leave Leipsig, you will gradually be going into the great world; where the first impressions that you shall give of yourself will be of great importance to you; but those which you shall receive will be decisive, for they always stick. To keep good company, especially at your first setting out, is the way to receive good impressions. If you ask me what I mean by good company, I will confess to you that it is pretty difficult to define; but I will endeavor to make you understand it as well as I can.
DEAR BOY: I arrived here three days ago because of a stomach issue that affected my head and caused dizziness. I'm already feeling a bit better, and I have no doubt that these waters will completely heal me. However, no matter where I am or how I feel, your well-being, character, knowledge, and morals occupy my thoughts more than anything that could happen to me or anything I hope or fear for myself. I am stepping off the stage, and you are stepping onto it; for me, what has happened is in the past, and reflecting on it now would be too late. For you, everything is ahead, even your own reflections; this is the perfect time for me to share my experiences with you, which might compensate for your lack of experience. As soon as you leave Leipzig, you'll start entering the wider world, where the first impressions you make will be very important. However, the impressions you receive will be even more crucial because they tend to stick with you. Surrounding yourself with good company, especially at the beginning, is key to getting positive impressions. If you want to know what I mean by good company, I must admit it's pretty challenging to define, but I'll do my best to help you understand.
Good company is not what respective sets of company are pleased either to call or think themselves, but it is that company which all the people of the place call, and acknowledge to be, good company, notwithstanding some objections which they may form to some of the individuals who compose it. It consists chiefly (but by no means without exception) of people of considerable birth, rank, and character; for people of neither birth nor rank are frequently, and very justly admitted into it, if distinguished by any peculiar merit, or eminency in any liberal art or science. Nay, so motly a thing is good company, that many people, without birth, rank, or merit, intrude into it by their own forwardness, and others slide into it by the protection of some considerable person; and some even of indifferent characters and morals make part of it. But in the main, the good part preponderates, and people of infamous and blasted characters are never admitted. In this fashionable good company, the best manners and the best language of the place are most unquestionably to be learned; for they establish and give the tone to both, which are therefore called the language and manners of good company: there being no legal tribunal to ascertain either.
Good company isn't defined by how groups of people see themselves, but by what everyone around recognizes as good company, even if they have some reservations about certain individuals in that group. It mainly consists of people with notable backgrounds, status, and character; however, individuals without these attributes can still be included if they have special skills or excel in arts or sciences. In fact, good company can be pretty mixed; some gain entry through their boldness, while others benefit from the backing of influential people, and even those with questionable reputations can be a part of it. Yet, overall, the positive aspects prevail, and people with terrible or ruined reputations are never included. In this trendy social circle, one can definitely learn the best etiquette and language, as they set the standard for both—commonly referred to as the language and manners of good company, since there's no official authority to define them.
A company, consisting wholly of people of the first quality, cannot, for that reason, be called good company, in the common acceptation of the phrase, unless they are, into the bargain, the fashionable and accredited company of the place; for people of the very first quality can be as silly, as ill-bred, and as worthless, as people of the meanest degree. On the other hand, a company consisting entirely of people of very low condition, whatever their merit or parts may be, can never be called good company; and consequently should not be much frequented, though by no means despised.
A group made up entirely of high-quality people can't truly be considered good company in the usual sense unless they are also the fashionable and recognized group in that area. That's because even the highest-quality individuals can be just as silly, rude, and worthless as those from the lowest social status. Conversely, a group made up entirely of people from very low backgrounds, no matter their abilities or qualities, can never be labeled as good company; therefore, it shouldn't be heavily frequented, though it shouldn't be entirely dismissed either.
A company wholly composed of men of learning, though greatly to be valued and respected, is not meant by the words GOOD COMPANY; they cannot have the easy manners and, ‘tournure’ of the world, as they do not live in it. If you can bear your part well in such a company, it is extremely right to be in it sometimes, and you will be but more esteemed in other companies, for having a place in that. But then do not let it engross you; for if you do, you will be only considered as one of the ‘literati’ by profession; which is not the way either, to shine, or rise in the world.
A company made up entirely of educated men, while highly valued and respected, is not what we mean by GOOD COMPANY; they lack the easygoing style and social skills of the world because they don’t engage with it. If you can hold your own in such a group, it’s perfectly fine to be a part of it occasionally, and you’ll be regarded more highly in other circles for being included there. However, don’t let it consume you; if you do, you’ll only be seen as one of the professional “literati,” which isn’t the way to stand out or succeed in life.
The company of professed wits and pests is extremely inviting to most young men; who if they have wit themselves, are pleased with it, and if they have none, are sillily proud of being one of it: but it should be frequented with moderation and judgment, and you should by no means give yourself up to it. A wit is a very unpopular denomination, as it carries terror along with it; and people in general are as much afraid of a live wit, in company, as a woman is of a gun, which she thinks may go off of itself, and do her a mischief. Their acquaintance is, however, worth seeking, and their company worth frequenting; but not exclusively of others, nor to such a degree as to be considered only as one of that particular set.
Being around clever and annoying people is really tempting for most young men; if they have wit, they enjoy it, and if they don’t, they foolishly take pride in being part of that crowd. But you should engage with them wisely and not get too caught up in it. Being called a wit isn’t very popular because it can be intimidating, and people are often just as scared of a sharp wit in conversation as a woman is of a gun that she thinks might go off and hurt her. Still, knowing these people is valuable, and spending time with them is worthwhile, but not to the exclusion of others or to the point where you’re only seen as part of that particular group.
But the company, which of all others you should most carefully avoid, is that low company, which, in every sense of the word, is low indeed; low in rank, low in parts, low in manners, and low in merit. You will, perhaps, be surprised that I should think it necessary to warn you against such company, but yet I do not think it wholly, unnecessary, from the many instances which I have seen of men of sense and rank, discredited, verified, and undone, by keeping such company.
But the company you should really stay away from is that low company, which is low in every sense of the word; low in status, low in character, low in behavior, and low in worth. You might be surprised that I feel the need to warn you about this, but I don’t think it’s completely unnecessary, considering the many examples I’ve seen of sensible and respectable people being discredited, embarrassed, and ruined by associating with such company.
Vanity, that source of many of our follies, and of some of our crimes, has sunk many a man into company, in every light infinitely, below himself, for the sake of being the first man in it. There he dictates, is applauded, admired; and, for the sake of being the Coryphceus of that wretched chorus, disgraces and disqualifies himself soon for any better company. Depend upon it, you will sink or rise to the level of the company which you commonly keep: people will judge of you, and not unreasonably, by that. There is good sense in the Spanish saying, “Tell me whom you live with, and I will tell you who you are.” Make it therefore your business, wherever you are, to get into that company which everybody in the place allows to be the best company next to their own; which is the best definition that I can give you of good company. But here, too, one caution is very necessary, for want of which many young men have been ruined, even in good company.
Vanity, which is the root of many of our mistakes and even some of our wrongdoings, has led many people to associate with those who are far beneath their own level, just to be the top person in that group. In that setting, they control everything, receive applause, and gain admiration; however, in their quest to be the star of that sorry group, they quickly disqualify themselves from any better associations. You can be sure that you will either lower or elevate yourself to the level of the people you usually hang out with: others will judge you, and not without reason, by that. There's wisdom in the Spanish saying, “Tell me whom you live with, and I will tell you who you are.” Therefore, make it a priority, no matter where you are, to associate with those that everyone else recognizes as the best company after their own; that’s the best definition of good company I can provide. However, here’s an important caution—many young men have ended up in trouble, even when they're in good company, because they overlooked this advice.
Good company (as I have before observed) is composed of a great variety of fashionable people, whose characters and morals are very different, though their manners are pretty much the same. When a young man, new in the world, first gets into that company, he very rightly determines to conform to, and imitate it. But then he too often, and fatally, mistakes the objects of his imitation. He has often heard that absurd term of genteel and fashionable vices. He there sees some people who shine, and who in general are admired and esteemed; and observes that these people are whoremasters, drunkards, or gamesters, upon which he adopts their vices, mistaking their defects for their perfections, and thinking that they owe their fashions and their luster to those genteel vices. Whereas it is exactly the reverse; for these people have acquired their reputation by their parts, their learning, their good-breeding, and other real accomplishments: and are only blemished and lowered, in the opinions of all reasonable people, and of their own, in time, by these genteel and fashionable vices. A whoremaster, in a flux, or without a nose, is a very genteel person, indeed, and well worthy of imitation. A drunkard, vomiting up at night the wine of the day, and stupefied by the headache all the next, is, doubtless, a fine model to copy from. And a gamester, tearing his hair, and blaspheming, for having lost more than he had in the world, is surely a most amiable character. No; these are alloys, and great ones too, which can never adorn any character, but will always debase the best. To prove this, suppose any man, without parts and some other good qualities, to be merely a whoremaster, a drunkard, or a gamester; how will he be looked upon by all sorts of people? Why, as a most contemptible and vicious animal. Therefore it is plain, that in these mixed characters, the good part only makes people forgive, but not approve, the bad.
Good company (as I've noted before) consists of a diverse mix of trendy people, whose personalities and morals vary greatly, even though their behaviors are quite similar. When a young man, new to the world, first joins this group, he understandably decides to fit in and mimic them. But then he often makes a critical mistake about what he should imitate. He has frequently heard the ridiculous term for stylish and fashionable vices. He sees some people who shine and are generally admired, and he notices that these individuals are womanizers, heavy drinkers, or gamblers. As a result, he adopts their vices, confusing their flaws for their strengths, and believing their style and charm come from these fashionable vices. In reality, it's the opposite; these people earn their reputation through their talent, education, good manners, and other real merits, and their genteel and fashionable vices ultimately tarnish their reputation in the eyes of reasonable people and themselves over time. A womanizer with issues or someone missing a nose is, indeed, a very stylish individual, worth emulating. A drunk who spends the night vomiting up the day’s drinks and is left with a headache the next day is certainly a great role model. And a gambler, tearing his hair out and cursing for losing everything he has, is undoubtedly a charming character. No; these are serious flaws that can never enhance any character, but will always degrade even the best of them. To illustrate this, imagine a man with no skills or other good qualities who is just a womanizer, a drunkard, or a gambler; how will everyone view him? As a truly despicable and immoral person. Therefore, it's clear that in these mixed characters, the good aspects only allow people to overlook but not approve of the bad ones.
I will hope and believe that you will have no vices; but if, unfortunately, you should have any, at least I beg of you to be content with your own, and to adopt no other body’s.
I hope and believe that you won't have any bad habits; but if, unfortunately, you do have some, please just stick to your own and don’t take on anyone else's.
The adoption of vice has, I am convinced, ruined ten times more young men than natural inclinations.
I believe that taking on bad habits has ruined ten times as many young men as their natural inclinations have.
As I make no difficulty of confessing my past errors, where I think the confession may be of use to you, I will own that when I first went to the university, I drank and smoked, notwithstanding the aversion I had to wine and tobacco, only because I thought it genteel, and that it made me look like a man. When I went abroad, I first went to The Hague, where gaming was much in fashion, and where I observed that many people of shining rank and character gamed too. I was then young enough, and silly enough, to believe that gaming was one of their accomplishments; and, as I aimed at perfection, I adopted gaming as a necessary step to it. Thus I acquired by error the habit of a vice which, far from adorning my character, has, I am conscious, been a great blemish in it.
As I have no trouble admitting my past mistakes, where I think it might help you, I’ll admit that when I first went to university, I drank and smoked, even though I didn't really like wine and tobacco, just because I thought it was stylish and made me look more like a man. When I went abroad, I first went to The Hague, where gambling was very popular, and I noticed that many people of high status and reputation were into it too. I was young enough and naive enough to think that gambling was one of their skills; and since I aimed for excellence, I took up gambling as a necessary step toward it. This way, I mistakenly developed a habit of a vice that, instead of enhancing my character, I know has actually been a significant flaw in it.
Imitate then, with discernment and judgment, the real perfections of the good company into which you may get; copy their politeness, their carriage, their address, and the easy and well-bred turn of their conversation; but remember that, let them shine ever so bright, their vices, if they have any, are so many spots which you would no more imitate, than you would make an artificial wart upon your face, because some very handsome man had the misfortune to have a natural one upon his: but, on the contrary, think how much handsomer he would have been without it.
So, pay attention and thoughtfully imitate the genuine qualities of the good company you find yourself in; mimic their politeness, their demeanor, their charm, and the effortless way they converse. But remember, no matter how impressive they seem, their flaws—if they have any—are like blemishes that you should avoid mimicking, just like you wouldn’t intentionally create a fake wart on your face just because a really attractive guy happened to have one naturally. Instead, consider how much better he would look without it.
Having thus confessed some of my ‘egaremens’, I will now show you a little of my right side. I always endeavored to get into the best company wherever I was, and commonly succeeded. There I pleased to some degree by showing a desire to please. I took care never to be absent or ‘distrait’; but on the contrary, attended to everything that was said, done, or even looked, in company; I never failed in the minutest attentions and was never ‘journalier’. These things, and not my ‘egaremens’, made me fashionable. Adieu! This letter is full long enough.
Having confessed some of my shortcomings, I will now share a bit about my better qualities. I always tried to surround myself with the best company wherever I found myself, and I usually succeeded. In those circles, I managed to make a positive impression by genuinely wanting to please others. I made sure to never be absent or distracted; instead, I paid attention to everything that was said, done, or even expressed through gestures in social situations. I always focused on the smallest details and was never negligent. These qualities, rather than my flaws, made me popular. Goodbye! This letter has gone on long enough.
LETTER LIV
BATH, October 19, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: Having in my last pointed out what sort of company you should keep, I will now give you some rules for your conduct in it; rules which my own experience and observation enable me to lay down, and communicate to you, with some degree of confidence. I have often given you hints of this kind before, but then it has been by snatches; I will now be more regular and methodical. I shall say nothing with regard to your bodily carriage and address, but leave them to the care of your dancing-master, and to your own attention to the best models; remember, however, that they are of consequence.
DEAR BOY: In my last letter, I pointed out what kind of company you should keep, so now I’ll give you some guidelines for how to act around them. These rules come from my own experience and observations, and I share them with you confidently. I’ve given you hints like this before, but now I’ll be more organized and thorough. I won’t comment on your physical appearance and posture; I’ll leave that to your dancing teacher and your own focus on the best examples. Just remember, they do matter.
Talk often, but never long: in that case, if you do not please, at least you are sure not to tire your hearers. Pay your own reckoning, but do not treat the whole company; this being one of the very few cases in which people do not care to be treated, everyone being fully convinced that he has wherewithal to pay.
Talk frequently, but keep it brief: that way, even if you don't impress, you definitely won't wear out your listeners. Cover your own tab, but don't foot the bill for everyone; this is one of the rare situations where people aren’t keen on being treated since everyone knows they can pay their own way.
Tell stories very seldom, and absolutely never but where they are very apt and very short. Omit every circumstance that is not material, and beware of digressions. To have frequent recourse to narrative betrays great want of imagination.
Tell stories rarely, and only when they’re really relevant and very brief. Leave out any details that aren’t essential, and watch out for going off-topic. Telling stories too often shows a lack of imagination.
Never hold anybody by the button or the hand, in order to be heard out; for, if people are not willing to hear you, you had much better hold your tongue than them.
Never grab someone by the button or the hand to get them to listen; if people aren't willing to hear you, it's better to keep quiet than to force it.
Most long talkers single out some one unfortunate man in company (commonly him whom they observe to be the most silent, or their next neighbor) to whisper, or at least in a half voice, to convey a continuity of words to. This is excessively ill-bred, and in some degree a fraud; conversation-stock being a joint and common property. But, on the other hand, if one of these unmerciful talkers lays hold of you, hear him with patience (and at least seeming attention), if he is worth obliging; for nothing will oblige him more than a patient hearing, as nothing would hurt him more than either to leave him in the midst of his discourse, or to discover your impatience under your affliction.
Most long-winded talkers pick out some unfortunate person in the group (usually the quietest one or their nearest neighbor) to whisper to, or at least speak to in a low voice, to keep the conversation going. This is really rude and somewhat dishonest; conversation should be shared and enjoyed by everyone. However, if one of these relentless talkers grabs your attention, listen to them patiently (and at least pretend to pay attention), if they’re worth your time; nothing makes them happier than being listened to, just as nothing would upset them more than being interrupted or showing that you're bored with what they’re saying.
Take, rather than give, the tone of the company you are in. If you have parts, you will show them, more or less, upon every subject; and if you have not, you had better talk sillily upon a subject of other people’s than of your own choosing.
Adapt to the vibe of the people you're with instead of trying to control it. If you have skills or knowledge, you'll showcase them in various conversations; if you don’t, you’re better off chatting about topics that others bring up rather than picking your own.
Avoid as much as you can, in mixed companies, argumentative, polemical conversations; which, though they should not, yet certainly do, indispose for a time the contending parties toward each other; and, if the controversy grows warm and noisy, endeavor to put an end to it by some genteel levity or joke. I quieted such a conversation-hubbub once, by representing to them that, though I was persuaded none there present would repeat, out of company, what passed in it, yet I could not answer for the discretion of the passengers in the street, who must necessarily hear all that was said.
Avoid argumentative or controversial conversations in mixed company as much as you can. Even if they shouldn’t, these discussions often create hostility between the people involved. If the debate gets heated and loud, try to lighten the mood with some humor or a joke. I once diffused a loud conversation by pointing out that while I was sure no one present would share what was said outside the group, I couldn't guarantee that passersby on the street wouldn’t overhear everything.
Above all things, and upon all occasions, avoid speaking of yourself, if it be possible. Such is the natural pride and vanity of our hearts, that it perpetually breaks out, even in people of the best parts, in all the various modes and figures of the egotism.
Above all else, and on all occasions, try to avoid talking about yourself, if you can. Our hearts have a natural pride and vanity that often surfaces, even in the best of people, in all sorts of ways and forms of egotism.
Some, abruptly, speak advantageously of themselves, without either pretense or provocation. They are impudent. Others proceed more artfully, as they imagine; and forge accusations against themselves, complain of calumnies which they never heard, in order to justify themselves, by exhibiting a catalogue of their many virtues. They acknowledge it may, indeed, seem odd that they should talk in that manner of themselves; it is what they do not like, and what they never would have done; no; no tortures should ever have forced it from them, if they had, not been thus unjustly and monstrously accused. But, in these cases; justice is surely due to one’s self, as well as to others; and when our character is attacked, we may say in our own justification, what otherwise we never would have said. This thin veil of Modesty drawn before Vanity, is much too transparent to conceal it, even from very moderate discernment.
Some people, without any hesitation or reason, brag about themselves. They are shameless. Others go about it more cleverly, or at least they think they do; they create false accusations against themselves, complain about slanders they’ve never even heard, just to prove themselves right by listing their many virtues. They admit that it might seem strange for them to talk about themselves this way; it's not something they like or would normally do; no amount of torture would have made them do it if they hadn't been unjustly and outrageously accused. But in these situations, we owe it to ourselves to seek justice, just like we do for others; when our character is under attack, we may say things in our defense that we normally wouldn't. This thin veneer of Modesty placed over Vanity is too transparent to hide it, even from someone with average perception.
Others go more modestly and more slyly still (as they think) to work; but in my mind still more ridiculously. They confess themselves (not without some degree of shame and confusion) into all the Cardinal Virtues, by first degrading them into weaknesses and then owning their misfortune in being made up of those weaknesses. They cannot see people suffer without sympathizing with, and endeavoring to help them. They cannot see people want, without relieving them, though truly their own circumstances cannot very well afford it. They cannot help speaking truth, though they know all the imprudence of it. In short, they know that, with all these weaknesses, they are not fit to live in the world, much less to thrive in it. But they are now too old to change, and must rub on as well as they can. This sounds too ridiculous and ‘outre’, almost, for the stage; and yet, take my word for it, you will frequently meet with it upon the common stage of the world. And here I will observe, by the bye, that you will often meet with characters in nature so extravagant, that a discreet dramatist would not venture to set them upon the stage in their true and high coloring.
Some people approach their work more humbly and sneakily, thinking it’s better, but I find it even more ridiculous. They admit, with a bit of shame and confusion, that they embody all the Cardinal Virtues by first belittling them as weaknesses and then lamenting their unfortunate nature of being made of those weaknesses. They can’t bear to see others suffer without feeling for them and trying to help. They can’t watch people in need without stepping in, even though their own situation can barely handle it. They can’t help but speak the truth, despite knowing it might cause trouble. In short, they recognize that with all these weaknesses, they’re not suited to live in the world, let alone succeed in it. But they’re too old to change now and just have to keep going as best as they can. This seems too ridiculous and over-the-top for the stage; yet, believe me, you’ll often see it in the everyday world. And I’ll add, you will often encounter such wildly exaggerated characters in real life that a sensible playwright wouldn't dare to portray them in their full, vibrant form.
This principle of vanity and pride is so strong in human nature that it descends even to the lowest objects; and one often sees people angling for praise, where, admitting all they say to be true (which, by the way, it seldom is), no just praise is to be caught. One man affirms that he has rode post an hundred miles in six hours; probably it is a lie: but supposing it to be true, what then? Why he is a very good post-boy, that is all. Another asserts, and probably not without oaths, that he has drunk six or eight bottles of wine at a sitting; out of charity, I will believe him a liar; for, if I do not, I must think him a beast.
This principle of vanity and pride is so ingrained in human nature that it even affects the most trivial things; you often see people fishing for compliments, even when it’s clear that what they claim is rarely true. One person insists he has traveled a hundred miles in six hours; that’s probably a lie. But if it were true, then what? He’d just be a really good messenger, and that’s it. Another person swears—likely with some sort of oath—that he’s downed six or eight bottles of wine in one sitting; out of kindness, I’ll assume he’s lying, because if I don’t, I have to believe he’s just a brute.
Such, and a thousand more, are the follies and extravagances, which vanity draws people into, and which always defeat their own purpose; and as Waller says, upon another subject,—
Such, along with a thousand others, are the foolishness and excesses that vanity leads people into, and which always undermine their own goals; as Waller mentions on a different topic,—
“Make the wretch the most despised,
Where most he wishes to be prized.”
“Make the miserable person the most hated,
Where he most wants to be valued.”The only sure way of avoiding these evils, is never to speak of yourself at all. But when, historically, you are obliged to mention yourself, take care not to drop one single word that can directly or indirectly be construed as fishing for applause. Be your character what it will, it will be known; and nobody will take it upon your own word. Never imagine that anything you can say yourself will varnish your defects, or add lustre to your perfections! but, on the contrary, it may, and nine times in ten, will, make the former more glaring and the latter obscure. If you are silent upon your own subject, neither envy, indignation, nor ridicule, will obstruct or allay the applause which you may really deserve; but if you publish your own panegyric upon any occasion, or in any shape whatsoever, and however artfully dressed or disguised, they will all conspire against you, and you will be disappointed of the very end you aim at.
The only guaranteed way to avoid these pitfalls is to never talk about yourself at all. But when you have to mention yourself, be careful not to say anything that could be seen as trying to seek praise. Regardless of your character, it will be recognized; and no one will take your word for it. Don’t think that anything you say will cover up your flaws or highlight your strengths! In fact, it may often make your flaws more obvious and your strengths less visible. If you stay quiet about yourself, envy, anger, or mockery won't interfere with the praise you genuinely deserve. However, if you promote yourself in any way, no matter how cleverly disguised, all those negative feelings will work against you, and you will end up disappointed with the result you were aiming for.
Take care never to seem dark and mysterious; which is not only a very unamiable character, but a very suspicious one too; if you seem mysterious with others, they will be really so with you, and you will know nothing. The height of abilities is to have ‘volto sciolto’ and ‘pensieri stretti’; that is, a frank, open, and ingenuous exterior, with a prudent interior; to be upon your own guard, and yet, by a seeming natural openness, to put people off theirs. Depend upon it nine in ten of every company you are in will avail themselves of every indiscreet and unguarded expression of yours, if they can turn it to their own advantage. A prudent reserve is therefore as necessary as a seeming openness is prudent. Always look people in the face when you speak to them: the not doing it is thought to imply conscious guilt; besides that you lose the advantage of serving by their countenances what impression your discourse makes upon them. In order to know people’s real sentiments, I trust much more to my eyes than to my ears: for they can say whatever they have a mind I should hear; but they can seldom help looking, what they have no intention that I should know.
Take care never to come off as dark and mysterious; it’s not only an unlikable trait, but also a pretty suspicious one. If you act mysterious around others, they’ll be mysterious with you, and you’ll end up knowing nothing. The peak of skill is to have an open and genuine demeanor while being thoughtful and cautious on the inside; to be on guard yourself, yet create an impression of natural openness that disarms others. Trust me, nine out of ten people in any group will take advantage of any careless or unguarded remark you make if it benefits them. So, a careful reserve is just as important as appearing open. Always make eye contact when you speak to someone; not doing so is seen as a sign of guilt, plus you miss the chance to gauge their reaction to what you’re saying. To really understand people’s true feelings, I rely much more on what I see than what I hear: they can say whatever they want me to hear, but they usually can't hide what their expressions reveal.
Neither retail nor receive scandal willingly; defamation of others may for the present gratify the malignity of the pride of our hearts; cool reflection will draw very disadvantageous conclusions from such a disposition; and in the case of scandal, as in that of robbery, the receiver is always thought, as bad as the thief.
Neither retail nor receive scandal willingly; defaming others might temporarily satisfy the malice of our pride, but careful reflection will lead to very unfavorable conclusions about such behavior. In the case of scandal, just like with theft, the person who receives the information is often considered just as bad as the one who spreads it.
Mimicry, which is the common and favorite amusement of little low minds, is in the utmost contempt with great ones. It is the lowest and most illiberal of all buffoonery. Pray, neither practice it yourself, nor applaud it in others. Besides that the person mimicked is insulted; and, as I have often observed to you before, an insult is never forgiven.
Imitating others, which is a common pastime for small-minded people, is looked down upon by those of greater intellect. It's the most base and uncultured form of comedy. Please, don’t engage in it yourself and don't encourage it in others. Not only does it offend the person being imitated, but as I’ve pointed out to you before, an insult is never forgotten.
I need not (I believe) advise you to adapt your conversation to the people you are conversing with: for I suppose you would not, without this caution, have talked upon the same subject, and in the same manner, to a minister of state, a bishop, a philosopher, a captain, and a woman. A man of the world must, like the chameleon, be able to take every different hue; which is by no means a criminal or abject, but a necessary complaisance; for it relates only to manners and not to morals.
I don't think I need to remind you to adjust your conversation based on who you're talking to: I assume you wouldn't, without this advice, discuss the same topic and in the same way with a government official, a bishop, a philosopher, a captain, and a woman. A worldly person must, like a chameleon, be able to change their approach; this isn't something wrong or demeaning, but a necessary politeness, because it only has to do with social skills, not principles.
One word only as to swearing, and that, I hope and believe, is more than is necessary. You may sometimes hear some people in good company interlard their discourse with oaths, by way of embellishment, as they think, but you must observe, too, that those who do so are never those who contribute, in any degree, to give that company the denomination of good company. They are always subalterns, or people of low education; for that practice, besides that it has no one temptation to plead, is as silly and as illiberal as it is wicked.
One word about swearing, and I hope that's more than enough. You might occasionally hear some people in polite company peppering their conversations with curses, thinking it adds flair. But you should also notice that those who do this are never the ones who help define that company as good. They're always lower-ranking individuals or people with poor education; that behavior, which has no justification, is just as foolish and unrefined as it is wrong.
Loud laughter is the mirth of the mob, who are only pleased with silly things; for true wit or good sense never excited a laugh since the creation of the world. A man of parts and fashion is therefore only seen to smile; but never heard to laugh.
Loud laughter is the joy of the crowd, who are only entertained by silly things; for true wit or good sense has never made people laugh since the dawn of time. A cultured and stylish person is only seen smiling, but never heard laughing.
But to conclude this long letter; all the above-mentioned rules, however carefully you may observe them, will lose half their effect, if unaccompanied by the Graces. Whatever you say, if you say it with a supercilious, cynical face, or an embarrassed countenance, or a silly, disconcerted grin, will be ill received. If, into the bargain, YOU MUTTER IT, OR UTTER IT INDISTINCTLY AND UNGRACEFULLY, it will be still worse received. If your air and address are vulgar, awkward, and gauche, you may be esteemed indeed, if you have great intrinsic merit; but you will never, please; and without pleasing you will rise but heavily. Venus, among the ancients, was synonymous with the Graces, who were always supposed to accompany her; and Horace tells us that even Youth and Mercury, the god of Arts and Eloquence, would not do without her:
But to wrap up this long letter, all the rules mentioned above, no matter how carefully you follow them, will lose half their impact if they aren't accompanied by charm. Whatever you say, if you say it with a condescending, cynical look, an awkward expression, or a silly, confused smile, it will be poorly received. If, on top of that, YOU MUMBLE IT, OR SAY IT UNCLEARLY AND CLUMSILY, it will be even worse. If your demeanor and presentation are unrefined, awkward, and clumsy, you might still be respected if you have significant inherent value; but you won’t be liked, and without that likability, your rise will be very slow. Venus, in ancient times, was synonymous with charm, and the Graces were always thought to be with her; and Horace tells us that even Youth and Mercury, the god of Arts and Eloquence, wouldn't do without her:
‘Parum comis sine to Juventas Mercuriusque.’
‘Parum comis sine to Juventas Mercuriusque.’
They are not inexorable Ladies, and may be had if properly, and diligently pursued. Adieu.
They aren't untouchable ladies and can be won over if approached correctly and with effort. Goodbye.
LETTER LV
BATH, October 29, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: My anxiety for your success increases in proportion as the time approaches of your taking your part upon the great stage of the world. The audience will form their opinion of you upon your first appearance (making the proper allowance for your inexperience), and so far it will be final, that, though it may vary as to the degrees, it will never totally change. This consideration excites that restless attention with which I am constantly examining how I can best contribute to the perfection of that character, in which the least spot or blemish would give me more real concern, than I am now capable of feeling upon any other account whatsoever.
DEAR BOY: My worry for your success grows as the time gets closer for you to take your place on the big stage of the world. The audience will form their opinion of you based on your first appearance (taking into account your lack of experience), and that opinion will largely stick; while it may change a bit in intensity, it will never completely shift. This thought drives my constant need to figure out how I can best help you develop your character, since even the smallest flaw or imperfection would concern me more than anything else I can currently feel.
I have long since done mentioning your great religious and moral duties, because I could not make your understanding so bad a compliment as to suppose that you wanted, or could receive, any new instructions upon those two important points. Mr. Harte, I am sure, has not neglected them; and, besides, they are so obvious to common sense and reason, that commentators may (as they often do) perplex, but cannot make them clearer. My province, therefore, is to supply by my experience your hitherto inevitable inexperience in the ways of the world. People at your age are in a state of natural ebriety; and want rails, and ‘gardefous’, wherever they go, to hinder them from breaking their necks. This drunkenness of youth is not only tolerated, but even pleases, if kept within certain bounds of discretion and decency. These bounds are the point which it is difficult for the drunken man himself to find out; and there it is that the experience of a friend may not only serve, but save him.
I stopped bringing up your important religious and moral responsibilities a while ago because I couldn’t think so poorly of your understanding as to believe you needed any new guidance on those critical issues. I'm sure Mr. Harte hasn’t overlooked them either; plus, they’re so straightforward to common sense and reason that commentators may confuse them, but they can’t clarify them any better. So my role is to share my experience to help you navigate your lack of experience in the world. At your age, people are naturally a bit reckless and need guidance wherever they go to avoid making serious mistakes. This youthful recklessness is not only accepted but can even be charming if it stays within certain limits of good judgment and respect. Figuring out where those limits are can be challenging for the reckless person, and that’s where a friend’s experience can be not just helpful, but lifesaving.
Carry with you, and welcome, into company all the gaiety and spirits, but as little of the giddiness, of youth as you can. The former will charm; but the latter will often, though innocently, implacably offend. Inform yourself of the characters and situations of the company, before you give way to what your imagination may prompt you to say. There are, in all companies, more wrong beads than right ones, and many more who deserve, than who like censure. Should you therefore expatiate in the praise of some virtue, which some in company notoriously want; or declaim against any vice, which others are notoriously infected with, your reflections, however general and unapplied, will, by being applicable, be thought personal and leveled at those people. This consideration points out to you, sufficiently, not to be suspicious and captious yourself, nor to suppose that things, because they may be, are therefore meant at you. The manners of well-bred people secure one from those indirect and mean attacks; but if, by chance, a flippant woman or a pert coxcomb lets off anything of that kind, it is much better not to seem to understand, than to reply to it.
Bring with you, and embrace, all the joy and energy of youth, but try to leave behind as much of the recklessness as you can. The joy will be delightful; however, the recklessness can often, though unintentionally, badly offend. Get to know the personalities and situations of those around you before you let your imagination take over and say whatever comes to mind. In every group, there are many more flaws than strengths, and many more people who deserve criticism than those who appreciate it. If you praise a virtue that some people in the group clearly lack or criticize a vice that others are obviously guilty of, your comments, no matter how general they seem, will be perceived as directed at those individuals. This should remind you not to be overly suspicious or defensive, or to think that comments are about you just because they could be. The behavior of well-mannered people helps shield you from those sneaky and petty attacks; however, if a sassy woman or a smug guy makes a remark like that, it’s often better to act as if you didn’t understand than to respond to it.
Cautiously avoid talking of either your own or other people’s domestic affairs. Yours are nothing to them but tedious; theirs are nothing to you. The subject is a tender one: and it is odds but that you touch somebody or other’s sore place: for, in this case, there is no trusting to specious appearances; which may be, and often are, so contrary to the real situations of things, between men and their wives, parents and their children, seeming friends, etc., that, with the best intentions in the world, one often blunders disagreeably.
Cautiously steer clear of discussing your own or others' personal matters. Yours are just boring to them; theirs are irrelevant to you. It's a sensitive topic, and you might end up hitting a nerve with someone. In this case, you can't rely on misleading appearances, which can be, and often are, very different from the actual situations between people—like husbands and wives, parents and kids, or so-called friends—that even with the best intentions, you can still make awkward mistakes.
Remember that the wit, humor, and jokes, of most mixed companies are local. They thrive in that particular soil, but will not often bear transplanting. Every company is differently circumstanced, has its particular cant and jargon; which may give occasion to wit and mirth within that circle, but would seem flat and insipid in any other, and therefore will not bear repeating. Nothing makes a man look sillier than a pleasantry not relished or not understood; and if he meets with a profound silence when he expected a general applause, or, what is worse, if he is desired to explain the bon mot, his awkward and embarrassed situation is easier imagined’ than described. ‘A propos’ of repeating; take great care never to repeat (I do not mean here the pleasantries) in one company what you hear in another. Things, seemingly indifferent, may, by circulation, have much graver consequences than you would imagine. Besides, there is a general tacit trust in conversation, by which a man is obliged not to report anything out of it, though he is not immediately enjoined to secrecy. A retailer of this kind is sure to draw himself into a thousand scrapes and discussions, and to be shyly and uncomfortably received wherever he goes.
Remember that the wit, humor, and jokes in most mixed groups are local. They thrive in that specific environment but often don’t do well when moved elsewhere. Each group has its own unique circumstances, slang, and jargon, which can create opportunities for humor and fun within that circle, but might come off as dull and flat in another setting, so it's best not to repeat them. Nothing makes a person look more foolish than a joke that isn’t appreciated or understood; if he encounters complete silence when he expected laughter, or, even worse, is asked to explain his clever remark, the awkwardness of the situation is easier to imagine than to describe. Speaking of repeating, be very careful not to share (I’m not talking about jokes here) things you hear in one group with another. What might seem like a harmless comment could lead to much bigger problems than you anticipate. Additionally, there’s an unspoken trust in conversations that requires someone not to share anything outside the discussion, even if they're not explicitly told to keep it secret. Someone who spreads this kind of information is sure to get himself into a lot of trouble and will be received with discomfort wherever he goes.
You will find, in most good company, some people who only keep their place there by a contemptible title enough; these are what we call VERY GOOD-NATURED FELLOWS, and the French, ‘bons diables’. The truth is, they are people without any parts or fancy, and who, having no will of their own, readily assent to, concur in, and applaud, whatever is said or done in the company; and adopt, with the same alacrity, the most virtuous or the most criminal, the wisest or the silliest scheme, that happens to be entertained by the majority of the company. This foolish, and often criminal complaisance flows from a foolish cause,—the want of any other merit. I hope that you will hold your place in company by a nobler tenure, and that you will hold it (you can bear a quibble, I believe, yet) ‘in capite’. Have a will and an opinion of your own, and adhere to them steadily; but then do it with good humor, good-breeding, and (if you have it) with urbanity; for you have not yet heard enough either to preach or censure.
In most decent company, you'll find some people who are there just because they have a pretty worthless title. These are what we call REALLY GOOD-NATURED GUYS, or in French, ‘bons diables’. The truth is, they lack any real character or creativity and, having no opinions of their own, they easily agree with and cheer on whatever is said or done around them; they just as readily adopt the most virtuous or the most questionable, the smartest or the dumbest ideas that happen to be popular with the group. This foolish and often questionable agreeability comes from a silly reason— a lack of any real merit. I hope you maintain your place in a group for better reasons than that, and that you do so (you can handle a pun, I think) ‘in capite’. Have your own will and opinions, and stick to them firmly; but do it with good humor, politeness, and (if you have it) charm; because you haven’t yet heard enough to preach or judge.
All other kinds of complaisance are not only blameless, but necessary in good company. Not to seem to perceive the little weaknesses, and the idle but innocent affectations of the company, but even to flatter them, in a certain manner, is not only very allowable, but, in truth, a sort of polite duty. They will be pleased with you, if you do; and will certainly not be reformed by you if you do not.
All other forms of politeness are not only acceptable but also essential in good company. Noticing the minor flaws and harmless quirks of those around you without acknowledging them, and even flattering them in a way, is not just permissible but honestly a kind of polite obligation. People will appreciate you for this, and they definitely won't change because of you if you don't engage in it.
For instance: you will find, in every group of company, two principal figures, viz., the fine lady and the fine gentleman who absolutely give the law of wit, language, fashion, and taste, to the rest of that society. There is always a strict, and often for the time being, a tender alliance between these two figures. The lady looks upon her empire as founded upon the divine right of beauty (and full as good a divine right it is as any king, emperor, or pope, can pretend to); she requires, and commonly meets with, unlimited passive obedience. And why should she not meet with it? Her demands go no higher than to have her unquestioned preeminence in beauty, wit, and fashion, firmly established. Few sovereigns (by the way) are so reasonable. The fine gentleman’s claims of right are, ‘mutatis mutandis’, the same; and though, indeed, he is not always a wit ‘de jure’, yet, as he is the wit ‘de facto’ of that company, he is entitled to a share of your allegiance, and everybody expects at least as much as they are entitled to, if not something more. Prudence bids you make your court to these joint sovereigns; and no duty, that I know of, forbids it. Rebellion here is exceedingly dangerous, and inevitably punished by banishment, and immediate forfeiture of all your wit, manners, taste, and fashion; as, on the other hand, a cheerful submission, not without some flattery, is sure to procure you a strong recommendation and most effectual pass, throughout all their, and probably the neighboring, dominions. With a moderate share of sagacity, you will, before you have been half an hour in their company, easily discover those two principal figures: both by the deference which you will observe the whole company pay them, and by that easy, careless, and serene air, which their consciousness of power gives them. As in this case, so in all others, aim always at the highest; get always into the highest company, and address yourself particularly to the highest in it. The search after the unattainable philosopher’s stone has occasioned a thousand useful discoveries, which otherwise would never have been made.
For example, in every social group, you'll notice two main figures: the glamorous lady and the dapper gentleman who set the standard for wit, language, fashion, and style for everyone else. There's always a close, and often affectionate, connection between these two. The lady sees her influence as based on the divine right of beauty (and it's as justifiable as any king, emperor, or pope might claim); she expects, and usually receives, complete passive obedience. And why shouldn't she? Her demands are simply to have her unquestioned status in beauty, wit, and fashion firmly established. Rarely do rulers exhibit such reasonableness. The gentleman’s claims are, in essence, the same; although he may not always be the official wit, he acts as the wit of the group, entitled to some loyalty, and everyone expects at least what they deserve, if not a bit more. It’s wise to court these joint monarchs, and no obligation stands in your way from doing so. Defying them is quite risky, leading to exile and an immediate loss of your charm, manners, taste, and style; on the flip side, a friendly compliance, sprinkled with a bit of flattery, will likely earn you a strong recommendation and an effective pass throughout their realm and possibly neighboring territories. With a little insight, you’ll easily spot these two main figures within half an hour of being in their presence, as you'll notice the respect everyone pays them and the relaxed, confident attitude that their awareness of power gives them. In this situation, just like in others, always aim for the top; associate yourself with the most influential people and specifically address the highest among them. The quest for the unattainable philosopher’s stone has led to countless valuable discoveries that otherwise would have never happened.
What the French justly call ‘les manieres nobles’ are only to be acquired in the very best companies. They are the distinguishing characteristics of men of fashion: people of low education never wear them so close, but that some part or other of the original vulgarism appears. ‘Les manieres nobles’ equally forbid insolent contempt, or low envy and jealousy. Low people, in good circumstances, fine clothes, and equipages, will insolently show contempt for all those who cannot afford as fine clothes, as good an equipage, and who have not (as their term is) as much money in their pockets: on the other hand, they are gnawed with envy, and cannot help discovering it, of those who surpass them in any of these articles; which are far from being sure criterions of merit. They are likewise jealous of being slighted; and, consequently, suspicious and captious; they are eager and hot about trifles because trifles were, at first, their affairs of consequence. ‘Les manieres nobles’ imply exactly the reverse of all this. Study them early; you cannot make them too habitual and familiar to you.
What the French rightly call ‘les manieres nobles’ can only be learned in the best circles. They are the hallmark of fashionable people: those with little education never manage to wear them without some trace of their original coarseness coming through. ‘Les manieres nobles’ prevent arrogant disdain, as well as petty envy and jealousy. Unrefined people, even when they have good circumstances, nice clothes, and fancy vehicles, will arrogantly look down on anyone who can’t afford as nice clothing, as good a vehicle, or who doesn’t have (as they put it) as much money in their pockets. At the same time, they are consumed with envy, and they can’t help but show it toward those who outshine them in any of these aspects; these are not reliable indicators of true worth. They also get jealous of being overlooked; as a result, they are suspicious and argumentative; they become overly invested in trivial matters because those trivialities were originally their main concerns. ‘Les manieres nobles’ are the exact opposite of all that. Learn them early; you can never practice them too much or make them too second nature.
Just as I had written what goes before, I received your letter of the 24th, N. S., but I have not received that which you mention for Mr. Harte. Yours is of the kind that I desire; for I want to see your private picture, drawn by yourself, at different sittings; for though, as it is drawn by yourself, I presume you will take the most advantageous likeness, yet I think that I have skill enough in that kind of painting to discover the true features, though ever so artfully colored, or thrown into skillful lights and shades.
Just as I finished writing what comes before, I got your letter from the 24th, N. S., but I haven’t received the one you mentioned for Mr. Harte. Your letter is exactly the kind I want; I’m eager to see your private portrait, created by you, during different sessions. Even though it’s done by you, and I assume you’ll capture the best likeness, I believe I have enough skill in that style of painting to notice the true features, no matter how cleverly colored or skillfully lit and shaded.
By your account of the German play, which I do not know whether I should call tragedy or comedy, the only shining part of it (since I am in a way of quibbling) seems to have been the fox’s tail. I presume, too, that the play has had the same fate with the squib, and has gone off no more. I remember a squib much better applied, when it was made the device of the colors of a French regiment of grenadiers; it was represented bursting, with this motto under it: ‘Peream dum luceam’.
Based on your description of the German play, which I can't decide if I should call a tragedy or a comedy, the only bright spot in it (since I'm playing with words here) seems to be the fox's tail. I also assume that the play ended up like the squib, going off without making much of an impact. I remember a squib being used much more effectively when it was the emblem for a French grenadier regiment; it burst open, with the motto underneath: 'Peream dum luceam'.
I like the description of your PIC-NIC; where I take it for granted, that your cards are only to break the formality of a circle, and your SYMPOSION intended more to promote conversation than drinking. Such an AMICABLE COLLISION, as Lord Shaftesbury very prettily calls it, rubs off and smooths those rough corners which mere nature has given to the smoothest of us. I hope some part, at least, of the conversation is in German. ‘A propos’: tell me do you speak that language correctly, and do you write it with ease? I have no doubt of your mastering the other modern languages, which are much easier, and occur much oftener; for which reason, I desire that you will apply most diligently to German, while you are in Germany, that you may speak and write that language most correctly.
I like how you described your picnic; I assume that your cards are just meant to break the formality of the gathering, and your symposium is more about encouraging conversation than drinking. That friendly clash, as Lord Shaftesbury nicely puts it, helps to smooth out the rough edges that nature gives even the smoothest among us. I hope some of the conversation is in German. By the way, can you tell me if you speak that language correctly, and can you write it easily? I have no doubt you’ll master the other modern languages, which are quite a bit easier and come up more often; for that reason, I urge you to focus on German while you're in Germany, so you can speak and write it as accurately as possible.
I expect to meet Mr. Eliot in London, in about three weeks, after which you will soon see him at Leipsig. Adieu.
I plan to meet Mr. Eliot in London in about three weeks, after which you will see him soon in Leipzig. Goodbye.
LETTER LVI
LONDON, November 18, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: Whatever I see or whatever I hear, my first consideration is, whether it can in any way be useful to you. As a proof of this, I went accidentally the other day into a print-shop, where, among many others, I found one print from a famous design of Carlo Maratti, who died about thirty years ago, and was the last eminent painter in Europe: the subject is ‘il Studio del Disegno’; or “The School of Drawing.” An old man, supposed to be the master, points to his scholars, who are variously employed in perspective, geometry, and the observation of the statues of antiquity. With regard to perspective, of which there are some little specimens, he has wrote, ‘Tanto che basti’, that is, “As much as is sufficient”; with regard to geometry, ‘Tanto che basti’ again; with regard to the contemplation of the ancient statues, there is written, ‘Non mai a bastanza’,—“There never can be enough.” But in the clouds, at the top of the piece, are represented the three Graces, with this just sentence written over them, ‘Senza di noi ogni fatica e vana’, that is, “Without us, all labor is vain.” This everybody allows to be true in painting; but all people do not seem to consider, as I hope you will, that this truth is full as applicable to every other art or science; indeed to everything that is to be said or done. I will send you the print itself by Mr. Eliot, when he returns; and I will advise you to make the same use of it that the Roman Catholics say they do of the pictures and images of their saints, which is, only to remind them of those; for the adoration they disclaim. Nay, I will go further, as the transition from Popery to Paganism is short and easy, I will classically end poetically advise you to invoke, and sacrifice to them every day, and all the day. It must be owned, that the Graces do not seem to be natives of Great Britain; and, I doubt, the best of us here have more of rough than polished diamond.
DEAR BOY: Whatever I see or hear, my first thought is whether it can be useful to you in any way. To prove this, I accidentally walked into a print shop the other day, where I found a print of a famous design by Carlo Maratti, who died about thirty years ago and was the last great painter in Europe. The subject is ‘il Studio del Disegno’, or “The School of Drawing.” An old man, thought to be the master, points to his students, who are engaged in perspective, geometry, and studying ancient statues. Regarding perspective, there are some small examples, with the words ‘Tanto che basti’, which means “As much as is sufficient”; for geometry, it’s ‘Tanto che basti’ again; and for studying the ancient statues, it says ‘Non mai a bastanza’—“There never can be enough.” In the clouds at the top of the piece, the three Graces are depicted with the phrase ‘Senza di noi ogni fatica e vana’, meaning “Without us, all labor is vain.” Everyone agrees this is true in painting; however, not everyone seems to recognize, as I hope you will, that this truth applies equally to every other art or science, indeed to everything that is to be said or done. I will send you the print itself with Mr. Eliot when he returns, and I suggest you use it in the same way that Roman Catholics say they use the images of their saints, which is only to remind them of those, as they disavow any form of adoration. In fact, I’ll go further; since the shift from Popery to Paganism is short and easy, I’ll classically and poetically advise you to invoke and honor them every day, all day. It must be acknowledged that the Graces do not seem to be from Great Britain; and I fear that even the best of us here are more rough around the edges than polished diamonds.
Since barbarism drove them out of Greece and Rome, they seem to have taken refuge in France, where their temples are numerous, and their worship the established one. Examine yourself seriously, why such and such people please and engage you, more than such and such others, of equal merit; and you will always find that it is because the former have the Graces and the latter not. I have known many a woman with an exact shape, and a symmetrical assemblage of beautiful features, please nobody; while others, with very moderate shapes and features, have charmed everybody. Why? because Venus will not charm so much, without her attendant Graces, as they will without her. Among men, how often have I seen the most solid merit and knowledge neglected, unwelcome, or even rejected, for want of them! While flimsy parts, little knowledge, and less merit, introduced by the Graces, have been received, cherished, and admired. Even virtue, which is moral beauty, wants some of its charms if unaccompanied by them.
Since barbarism pushed them out of Greece and Rome, they seem to have found refuge in France, where their temples are plentiful and their worship is well-established. Take a good look at yourself: consider why some people attract you more than others of equal talent; you'll often find the reason is that the former possess the Graces while the latter do not. I've known many women who have perfect shapes and symmetrical features but fail to please anyone, while others with more average looks have captivated everyone. Why? Because Venus doesn't have the same charm without her accompanying Graces as they do without her. Among men, how often have I seen true merit and knowledge overlooked, unwelcome, or even rejected due to the absence of these Graces! Meanwhile, shallow individuals with little knowledge and less substance, aided by the Graces, have been warmly welcomed, cherished, and admired. Even virtue, which represents moral beauty, loses some of its appeal when it's not accompanied by them.
If you ask me how you shall acquire what neither you nor I can define or ascertain, I can only answer, BY OBSERVATION. Form yourself, with regard to others, upon what you feel pleases you in them. I can tell you the importance, the advantage, of having the Graces; but I cannot give them you: I heartily wish I could, and I certainly would; for I do not know a better present that I could make you. To show you that a very wise, philosophical, and retired man thinks upon that subject as I do, who have always lived in the world, I send you, by Mr. Eliot, the famous Mr. Locke’s book upon education; in which you will end the stress that he lays upon the Graces, which he calls (and very truly) good-breeding. I have marked all the parts of that book that are worth your attention; for as he begins with the child, almost from its birth, the parts relative to its infancy would be useless to you. Germany is, still less than England, the seat of the Graces; however, you had as good not say so while you are there. But the place which you are going to, in a great degree, is; for I have known as many well-bred, pretty men come from Turin, as from any part of Europe. The late King Victor Amedee took great pains to form such of his subjects as were of any consideration, both to business and manners; the present king, I am told, follows his example: this, however, is certain, that in all courts and congresses, where there are various foreign ministers, those of the King of Sardinia are generally the ablest, the politest, and ‘les plus delies’. You will therefore, at Turin, have very good models to form yourself upon: and remember, that with regard to the best models, as well as to the antique Greek statues in the print, ‘non mai a bastanza’. Observe every word, look, and motion of those who are allowed to be the most accomplished persons there. Observe their natural and careless, but genteel air; their unembarrassed good-breeding; their unassuming, but yet unprostituted dignity. Mind their decent mirth, their discreet frankness, and that ‘entregent’ which, as much above the frivolous as below the important and the secret, is the proper medium for conversation in mixed companies. I will observe, by the bye, that the talent of that light ‘entregent’ is often of great use to a foreign minister; not only as it helps him to domesticate himself in many families, but also as it enables him to put by and parry some subjects of conversation, which might possibly lay him under difficulties both what to say and how to look.
If you ask me how to gain something that neither you nor I can define or identify, I can only say, BY OBSERVATION. Form your opinions about others based on what you find appealing in them. I can talk about the importance and benefits of having grace, but I can't give it to you. I genuinely wish I could, as I don’t know a better gift I could offer you. To show you that a very wise, philosophical, and reserved man shares my view, who has always been part of the world, I’m sending you Mr. Locke’s famous book on education through Mr. Eliot. In it, you will find the emphasis he places on grace, which he accurately refers to as good breeding. I’ve highlighted the key sections of the book worth your attention; since he starts with the child nearly from birth, the sections related to infancy won’t be useful to you. Germany is even less of a hub for grace than England; however, you might want to keep that to yourself while you’re there. The place you're headed to has a good amount of it, as I’ve seen many well-bred, attractive individuals come from Turin, just like any other part of Europe. The late King Victor Amadeus made considerable efforts to cultivate the manners and skills of his significant subjects; the current king is said to follow in his footsteps. It’s clear that in all courts and gatherings with various foreign ministers, those representing the King of Sardinia are usually the most capable, polite, and refined. So, when you're in Turin, you will have excellent examples to learn from: and remember that with the best models, like the ancient Greek statues in the print, you can never observe enough. Pay attention to every word, glance, and gesture of those recognized as the most accomplished there. Notice their natural and effortless, yet polished demeanor; their unobtrusive good breeding; their humble, yet dignified presence. Take note of their respectful humor, their thoughtful honesty, and that light conversation which, being above the trivial and below the serious and secret, is the perfect balance for discussions in mixed company. By the way, I should mention that the skill of light conversation is often very useful for a foreign minister; it not only helps him fit in with many families, but also allows him to dodge topics that might put him in a tough spot regarding what to say or how to react.
Of all the men that ever I knew in my life (and I knew him extremely well), the late Duke of Marlborough possessed the graces in the highest degree, not to say engrossed them; and indeed he got the most by them; for I will venture (contrary to the custom of profound historians, who always assign deep causes for great events), to ascribe the better half of the Duke of Marlborough’s greatness and riches to those graces. He was eminently illiterate; wrote bad English and spelled it still worse. He had no share of what is commonly called PARTS: that is, he had no brightness, nothing shining in his genius. He had most undoubtedly, an excellent good plain understanding with sound judgment. But these alone, would probably have raised him but something higher than they found him; which was page to King James the Second’s queen. There the Graces protected and promoted him; for while he was an ensign of the Guards, the Duchess of Cleveland, then favorite mistress to King Charles the Second, struck by those very Graces, gave him five thousand pounds, with which he immediately bought an annuity for his life of five hundred pounds a year, of my grandfather Halifax; which was the foundation of his subsequent fortune. His figure was beautiful; but his manner was irresistible, by either man or woman. It was by this engaging, graceful manner, that he was enabled, during all his war, to connect the various and jarring powers of the Grand Alliance, and to carry them on to the main object of the war, notwithstanding their private and separate views, jealousies, and wrongheadednesses. Whatever court he went to (and he was often obliged to go himself to some resty and refractory ones), he as constantly prevailed, and brought them into his measures. The Pensionary Heinsius, a venerable old minister, grown gray in business, and who had governed the republic of the United Provinces for more than forty years, was absolutely governed by the Duke of Marlborough, as that republic feels to this day. He was always cool; and nobody ever observed the least variation in his countenance; he could refuse more gracefully than other people could grant; and those who went away from him the most dissatisfied as to the substance of their business, were yet personally charmed with him and, in some degree, comforted by his manner. With all his gentleness and gracefulness, no man living was more conscious of his situation, nor maintained his dignity better.
Of all the men I’ve ever known in my life (and I knew him really well), the late Duke of Marlborough had an incredible charm, if not a complete monopoly on it; and he definitely benefited the most from it. I’ll go so far as to say (against the usual practice of serious historians, who always look for deep reasons behind major events) that a big part of the Duke of Marlborough’s success and wealth came from his charm. He was undeniably uneducated, wrote poorly in English, and spelled even worse. He didn’t have what people typically call talent: nothing really outstanding about his intelligence. However, he had a solid, practical understanding and good judgment. But on their own, those qualities would probably have only lifted him slightly above his starting point, which was as a page to Queen James II. There, his charm supported and advanced him; when he was a junior officer in the Guards, the Duchess of Cleveland, who was the favored mistress of King Charles II, was so taken by his charm that she gave him five thousand pounds, which he promptly used to buy a life annuity from my grandfather Halifax worth five hundred pounds a year. That was the foundation of his future fortune. He had a striking appearance, but his manner was irresistible to both men and women. It was this charming and graceful manner that allowed him, throughout his military career, to bring together the different and often conflicting powers of the Grand Alliance and keep them focused on the main objectives of the war, despite their individual agendas, rivalries, and misunderstandings. No matter which court he visited (and he often had to deal with some stubborn and difficult ones), he consistently succeeded in getting them on board with his plans. The Pensionary Heinsius, an elderly statesman who had spent over forty years running the republic of the United Provinces, was completely influenced by the Duke of Marlborough, and that impact is still felt today. He always remained calm, and no one ever noticed the slightest change in his expression; he could refuse requests more gracefully than most could accept them, and those who left him feeling unsatisfied with the outcome of their discussions still felt a personal connection and some comfort from his demeanor. Despite all his gentleness and charm, no one was more aware of his status, nor did anyone maintain their dignity better.
With the share of knowledge which you have already gotten, and with the much greater which I hope you will soon acquire, what may you not expect to arrive at, if you join all these graces to it? In your destination particularly, they are in truth half your business: for, if you once gain the affections as well as the esteem of the prince or minister of the court to which you are sent, I will answer for it, that will effectually do the business of the court that sent you; otherwise it is up-hill work. Do not mistake, and think that these graces which I so often and so earnestly recommend to you, should only accompany important transactions, and be worn only ‘les jours de gala’; no, they should, if possible, accompany every, the least thing you do or say; for, if you neglect them in little things, they will leave you in great ones. I should, for instance, be extremely concerned to see you even drink a cup of coffee ungracefully, and slop yourself with it, by your awkward manner of holding it; nor should I like to see your coat buttoned, or your shoes buckled awry. But I should be outrageous, if I heard you mutter your words unintelligibly, stammer, in your speech, or hesitate, misplace, and mistake in your narrations; and I should run away from you with greater rapidity, if possible, than I should now run to embrace you, if I found you destitute of all those graces which I have set my heart upon their making you one day, ‘omnibus ornatum excellere rebus’.
With the knowledge you already have, and the much more that I hope you’ll gain soon, think about what you could achieve by combining all these qualities. In your role specifically, these qualities are crucial: if you can win the trust and affection of the prince or minister at the court you’re sent to, I assure you, that will effectively serve the purpose of the court that dispatched you; otherwise, it will be tough going. Don't be mistaken and think the qualities I repeatedly urge you to adopt should only be used in important situations or on special occasions; no, they should accompany everything you do or say, no matter how small. If you overlook them in minor matters, they’ll slip away from you in major ones. For instance, I would be really worried to see you drink a cup of coffee awkwardly and spill it because of how you held it. I wouldn’t like to see your coat unbuttoned or your shoes buckled improperly. However, I would be horrified if I heard you mumble unintelligibly, stammer while speaking, or misplace your words in your stories; and I would quickly distance myself from you even faster than I would rush to embrace you if I found you lacking all those qualities that I’m committed to helping you develop, 'omnibus ornatum excellere rebus'.
This subject is inexhaustible, as it extends to everything that is to be said or done: but I will leave it for the present, as this letter is already pretty long. Such is my desire, my anxiety for your perfection, that I never think I have said enough, though you may possibly think that I have said too much; and though, in truth, if your own good sense is not sufficient to direct you, in many of these plain points, all that I or anybody else can say will be insufficient. But where you are concerned, I am the insatiable man in Horace, who covets still a little corner more to complete the figure of his field. I dread every little corner that may deform mine, in which I would have (if possible) no one defect.
This topic is endless, as it touches on everything that can be said or done. But I’ll set it aside for now, since this letter is already quite long. My wish and my concern for your growth make me feel like I never say enough, even if you might think I’ve said too much. In reality, if your own common sense can’t guide you through many of these straightforward matters, then everything I or anyone else says won’t be enough. But when it comes to you, I feel like the guy in Horace who is always looking for just a little bit more to finish his field. I worry about every little flaw that could mar mine, where I wish (if possible) to have no defects at all.
I this moment receive yours of the 17th, N. S., and cannot condole with you upon the secession of your German ‘Commensaux’; who both by your and Mr. Harte’s description, seem to be ‘des gens d’une amiable absence’; and, if you can replace them by any other German conversation, you will be a gainer by the bargain. I cannot conceive, if you understand German well enough to read any German book, how the writing of the German character can be so difficult and tedious to you, the twenty-four letters being very soon learned; and I do not expect that you should write yet with the utmost purity and correctness, as to the language: what I meant by your writing once a fortnight to Grevenkop, was only to make the written character familiar to you. However, I will be content with one in three weeks or so.
I just received your letter from the 17th, and I can’t express my condolences about the departure of your German guests; both you and Mr. Harte describe them as “people with a charming lack of presence.” If you can find other German conversation partners to replace them, you'll come out ahead. I can't understand how, if you read German well enough to tackle any German book, writing in the German script can be so complicated and tedious for you. The twenty-four letters can be learned quite quickly. I don’t expect you to write perfectly yet in the language. What I meant by suggesting that you write to Grevenkop every two weeks was just to get you familiar with the written characters. However, I’ll be fine with one letter every three weeks or so.
I believe you are not likely to see Mr. Eliot again soon, he being still in Cornwall with his father; who, I hear, is not likely to recover. Adieu.
I don't think you'll see Mr. Eliot again anytime soon. He's still in Cornwall with his father, who, from what I hear, is not expected to get better. Goodbye.
LETTER LVII
LONDON, November 29, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I delayed writing to you till I could give you some account of the motions of your friend Mr. Eliot; for whom I know you have, and very justly, the most friendly concern. His father and he came to town together, in a post-chaise a fortnight ago, the rest of the family remaining in Cornwall. His father, with difficulty, survived the journey, and died last Saturday was seven-night. Both concern and decency confined your friend, till two days ago, when I saw him; he has determined, and I think very prudently, to go abroad again; but how soon, it is yet impossible for him to know, as he must necessarily put his own private affairs in some order first; but I conjecture that he may possibly join you at Turin; sooner, to be sure, not. I am very sorry that you are likely to be so long without the company and the example of so valuable a friend; and therefore I hope that you will make it up to yourself, as well as you can at this distance, by remembering and following his example. Imitate that application of his, which has made him know all thoroughly, and to the bottom. He does not content himself with the surface of knowledge; but works in the mine for it, knowing that it lies deep. Pope says, very truly, in his “Essay on Criticism”:—
DEAR BOY: I held off writing to you until I could give you an update on your friend Mr. Eliot, about whom I know you care a lot, and for good reason. He and his father came to town together in a carriage two weeks ago, while the rest of the family stayed in Cornwall. His father barely made it through the trip and passed away last Saturday. Your friend was understandably preoccupied with both grief and propriety until two days ago when I last saw him. He has decided, and I think very wisely, to go abroad again; however, he cannot say when, as he needs to sort out his personal affairs first. I suspect he might join you in Turin, but definitely not any sooner. I'm really sorry that you’re going to be without such a valuable friend for so long. I hope you can find ways to keep yourself occupied during this time by remembering and following his example. Emulate his dedication, which has led him to understand everything deeply. He doesn't settle for just the surface of knowledge; he digs in for it, knowing it’s buried deep. Pope says very accurately in his “Essay on Criticism”:—
A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.
A little knowledge can be risky;
Dive in fully or don't even try the Pierian spring.I shall send you by a ship that goes to Hamburg next week (and by which Hawkins sends Mr. Harte some things that he wrote for) all those which I propose sending you by Mr. Eliot, together with a very little box that I am desired to forward to Mr. Harte. There will be, likewise, two letters of recommendation for you to Monsieur Andrie and Comte Algarotti, at Berlin, which you will take care to deliver to them, as soon as you shall be rigged and fitted out to appear there. They will introduce you into the best company, and I depend upon your own good sense for your avoiding of bad. If you fall into bad and low company there, or anywhere else, you will be irrecoverably lost; whereas, if you keep good company, and company above yourself, your character and your fortune will be immovably fixed.
I’m going to send you everything I plan to send through Mr. Eliot by a ship heading to Hamburg next week, along with a small box that I’ve been asked to forward to Mr. Harte. Additionally, there will be two letters of recommendation for you to Monsieur Andrie and Comte Algarotti in Berlin, which you should deliver to them as soon as you’re ready to appear there. They will help you meet the best people, and I trust your judgment to steer clear of the wrong crowd. If you get involved with bad or low people there, or anywhere else, it could ruin you for good, whereas if you surround yourself with good company and people who are better than you, your character and future will be firmly established.
I have not time to-day, upon account of the meeting of the parliament, to make this letter of the usual length; and indeed, after the volumes that I have written to you, all I can add must be unnecessary. However, I shall probably, ‘ex abundanti’, return soon to my former prolixity; and you will receive more and more last words from, Yours.
I don’t have time today because of the parliamentary meeting to write this letter as long as usual; and honestly, after all the letters I’ve sent you, anything I add will probably be unnecessary. However, I’ll likely return to my usual lengthy style soon, and you’ll keep getting more and more concluding thoughts from me. Yours.
LETTER LVIII
LONDON, December 6, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I am at present under very great concern for the loss of a most affectionate brother, with whom I had always lived in the closest friendship. My brother John died last Friday night, of a fit of the gout, which he had had for about a month in his hands and feet, and which fell at last upon his stomach and head. As he grew, toward the last, lethargic, his end was not painful to himself. At the distance which you are at from hence, you need not go into mourning upon this occasion, as the time of your mourning would be near over, before you could put it on.
DEAR BOY: Right now, I’m very worried about the loss of my beloved brother, with whom I always shared a close friendship. My brother John passed away last Friday night after struggling with gout for about a month, which had affected his hands and feet before finally reaching his stomach and head. In his final days, he became lethargic, so his passing wasn’t painful for him. Since you’re far away, there’s no need for you to go into mourning for this loss, as any mourning you would have would almost be over by the time you could start.
By a ship which sails this week for Hamburg, I shall send you those things which I proposed to have sent you by Mr. Eliot, viz., a little box from your Mamma; a less box for Mr. Harte; Mr. Locke’s book upon education; the print of Carlo Maratti, which I mentioned to you some time ago; and two letters of recommendation, one to Monsieur Andrie and the other to Comte Algarotti, at Berlin. Both those gentlemen will, I am sure, be as willing as they are able to introduce you into the best company; and I hope you will not (as many of your countrymen are apt to do) decline it. It is in the best companies only; that you can learn the best manners and that ‘tournure’, and those graces, which I have so often recommended to you, as the necessary means of making a figure in the world.
I'll be sending those items I intended to send you through Mr. Eliot on a ship sailing to Hamburg this week: a small box from your mom, a smaller box for Mr. Harte, Mr. Locke's book on education, the print of Carlo Maratti I mentioned a while ago, and two letters of recommendation—one for Monsieur Andrie and the other for Comte Algarotti in Berlin. I’m sure both gentlemen will gladly help you get introduced to the best crowd, and I hope you won’t decline it like many of your fellow countrymen tend to do. It's only in the best circles that you can learn proper manners, that 'tournure', and those graces I've recommended to you as essential for making a good impression in the world.
I am most extremely pleased with the account which Mr. Harte gives me of your progress in Greek, and of your having read Hesiod almost critically. Upon this subject I suggest but one thing to you, of many that I might suggest; which is, that you have now got over the difficulties of that language, and therefore it would be unpardonable not to persevere to your journey’s end, now that all the rest of your way is down hill.
I am really pleased with the update that Mr. Harte gave me about your progress in Greek and that you’ve read Hesiod almost critically. On this topic, I have just one suggestion for you, among many I could make: since you've overcome the challenges of that language, it would be a shame not to keep going until you reach the end of your journey, especially now that the rest of the way is easy.
I am also very well pleased to hear that you have such a knowledge of, and taste for curious books and scarce and valuable tracts. This is a kind of knowledge which very well becomes a man of sound and solid learning, but which only exposes a man of slight and superficial reading; therefore, pray make the substance and matter of such books your first object, and their title-pages, indexes, letter, and binding, but your second. It is the characteristic of a man of parts and good judgment to know, and give that degree of attention that each object deserves. Whereas little minds mistake little objects for great ones, and lavish away upon the former that time and attention which only the latter deserve. To such mistakes we owe the numerous and frivolous tribes of insect-mongers, shell-mongers, and pursuers and driers of butterflies, etc. The strong mind distinguishes, not only between the useful and the useless, but likewise between the useful and the curious. He applies himself intensely to the former; he only amuses himself with the latter. Of this little sort of knowledge, which I have just hinted at, you will find at least as much as you need wish to know, in a superficial but pretty French book, entitled, ‘Spectacle de la Nature’; which will amuse you while you read it, and give you a sufficient notion of the various parts of nature. I would advise you to read it, at leisure hours. But that part of nature, which Mr. Harte tells me you have begun to study with the Rector magnificus, is of much greater importance, and deserves much more attention; I mean astronomy. The vast and immense planetary system, the astonishing order and regularity of those innumerable worlds, will open a scene to you, which not only deserves your attention as a matter of curiosity, or rather astonishment; but still more, as it will give you greater, and consequently juster, ideas of that eternal and omnipotent Being, who contrived, made, and still preserves that universe, than all the contemplation of this, comparatively, very little orb, which we at present inhabit, could possibly give you. Upon this subject, Monsieur Fontenelle’s ‘Pluralite des Mondes’, which you may read in two hours’ time, will both inform and please you. God bless you! Yours.
I’m really glad to hear that you have such knowledge of and appreciation for rare and valuable books and texts. This kind of knowledge really suits someone with solid and deep learning, but it only shows up someone with shallow and superficial reading skills. So, please focus on the content and substance of those books as your main priority, and the title pages, indexes, letters, and bindings as secondary. A person of insight and good judgment recognizes and gives the appropriate level of attention to what truly matters. In contrast, narrow minds confuse minor details for significant ones and waste time and attention on the former that should only be spent on the latter. This misunderstanding has led to the many trivial enthusiasts of bugs, shells, and butterfly collecting, etc. A strong mind distinguishes not only between what is useful and what is useless but also between what is useful and what is merely interesting. He dedicates intense focus to the former and only entertains himself with the latter. You will find plenty of this kind of surface knowledge in a light but enjoyable French book called ‘Spectacle de la Nature,’ which will entertain you while you read and give you a good understanding of various parts of nature. I recommend you read it during your free time. However, the part of nature that Mr. Harte tells me you’ve started to study with the Rector magnificus is much more important and deserves your full attention: I’m talking about astronomy. The vast and incredible planetary system, the astonishing order and regularity of countless worlds, will reveal a perspective that not only deserves your attention as a matter of curiosity or wonder but even more so, as it will provide you with a greater and therefore more accurate understanding of that eternal and all-powerful Being who designed, created, and continues to sustain that universe, much more than all the contemplation of our relatively tiny planet could ever offer. On this topic, Monsieur Fontenelle’s ‘Pluralite des Mondes,’ which you can read in about two hours, will both inform and entertain you. God bless you! Yours.
LETTER LIX
LONDON, December 13, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: The last four posts have brought me no letters, either from you or from Mr. Harte, at which I am uneasy; not as a mamma would be, but as a father should be: for I do not want your letters as bills of health; you are young, strong, and healthy, and I am, consequently, in no pain about that: moreover, were either you or Mr. Harte ill, the other would doubtless write me word of it. My impatience for yours or Mr. Harte’s letters arises from a very different cause, which is my desire to hear frequently of the state and progress of your mind. You are now at that critical period of life when every week ought to produce fruit or flowers answerable to your culture, which I am sure has not been neglected; and it is by your letters, and Mr. Harte’s accounts of you, that, at this distance, I can only judge at your gradations to maturity; I desire, therefore, that one of you two will not fail to write to me once a week. The sameness of your present way of life, I easily conceive, would not make out a very interesting letter to an indifferent bystander; but so deeply concerned as I am in the game you are playing, even the least move is to me of importance, and helps me to judge of the final event.
DEAR BOY: I haven't received any letters from you or Mr. Harte in the last four messages, and that worries me. Not as a mother would worry, but as a father should: I’m not looking for letters just to confirm your health; you’re young, strong, and healthy, so I’m not anxious about that. Plus, if either you or Mr. Harte were sick, I’m sure the other would let me know. My eagerness for updates from you and Mr. Harte comes from a different place—I really want to hear about your intellectual growth and development. You’re at a crucial stage in life where each week should bring new insights and experiences, which I’m sure you’re working hard on. The only way I can gauge your progress from afar is through your letters and Mr. Harte’s updates about you. So please, one of you should make sure to write to me once a week. I understand that your current routine might not seem exciting enough to interest an outsider, but I care so much about what you’re doing that even the smallest details matter to me and help me understand the bigger picture.
As you will be leaving Leipsig pretty soon after you shall have received this letter, I here send you one inclosed to deliver to Mr. Mascow. It is to thank him for his attention and civility to you, during your stay with him: and I take it for granted, that you will not fail making him the proper compliments at parting; for the good name that we leave behind at one place often gets before us to another, and is of great use. As Mr. Mascow is much known and esteemed in the republic of letters, I think it would be of advantage to you, if you got letters of recommendation from him to some of the learned men at Berlin. Those testimonials give a lustre, which is not to be despised; for the most ignorant are forced to seem, at least, to pay a regard to learning, as the most wicked are to virtue. Such is their intrinsic worth.
Since you’ll be leaving Leipzig pretty soon after you receive this letter, I'm enclosing one for you to give to Mr. Mascow. It’s to thank him for his kindness and hospitality during your stay. I assume you’ll remember to express your gratitude when you say goodbye, as the good impression we leave at one place often follows us to another and is incredibly helpful. Since Mr. Mascow is well-known and respected in the literary community, I think it would be beneficial for you to get letters of recommendation from him to some of the scholars in Berlin. These endorsements carry significant weight, as even the most ignorant people feel the need to show respect for learning, just as the most corrupt do for virtue. That’s their inherent value.
Your friend Duval dined with me the other day, and complained most grievously that he had not heard from you above a year; I bid him abuse you for it himself; and advised him to do it in verse, which, if he was really angry, his indignation would enable him to do. He accordingly brought me, yesterday, the inclosed reproaches and challenge, which he desired me to transmit to you. As this is his first essay in English poetry, the inaccuracies in the rhymes and the numbers are very excusable. He insists, as you will find, upon being answered in verse; which I should imagine that you and Mr. HARTE, together, could bring about; as the late Lady Dorchester used to say, that she and Dr. Radcliffe, together, could cure a fever. This is however sure, that it now rests upon you; and no man can say what methods Duval may take, if you decline his challenge. I am sensible that you are under some disadvantages in this proffered combat. Your climate, at this time of the year especially, delights more in the wood fire, than in the poetic fire; and I conceive the Muses, if there are any at Leipsig, to be rather shivering than singing; nay, I question whether Apollo is even known there as god of Verse, or as god of Light: perhaps a little as god of Physic. These will be fair excuses, if your performance should fall something short; though I do not apprehend that it will.
Your friend Duval had dinner with me recently and complained that he hasn't heard from you in over a year. I told him to confront you about it himself and suggested he do it in verse, which, if he was really upset, would fuel his indignation. So yesterday, he brought me the attached complaints and challenge that he wanted me to send to you. Since this is his first attempt at English poetry, it's understandable that the rhymes and meter aren't perfect. He insists, as you’ll see, that you respond in verse; I imagine you and Mr. HARTE could pull that off together, like the late Lady Dorchester used to say she and Dr. Radcliffe could cure a fever together. But it’s clear that the ball is in your court now, and no one can predict what Duval might do if you ignore his challenge. I know you're at a bit of a disadvantage in this unexpected battle. Your climate, especially at this time of year, favors wood fires more than poetic inspiration, and I suspect the Muses, if they exist in Leipzig, are more likely to be chilly than singing. I even wonder if Apollo is known there more as a god of medicine than of poetry or light. These would be good excuses if your response isn't quite up to par, though I don’t expect that will be the case.
While you have been at Leipsig, which is a place of study more than of pleasure or company, you have had all opportunities of pursuing your studies uninterruptedly; and have had, I believe, very few temptations to the contrary. But the case will be quite different at Berlin, where the splendor and dissipation of a court and the ‘beau monde’, will present themselves to you in gaudy shapes, attractive enough to all young people. Do not think, now, that like an old fellow, I am going to advise you to reject them, and shut yourself up in your closet: quite the contrary; I advise you to take your share, and enter into them with spirit and pleasure; but then I advise you, too, to allot your time so prudently, as that learning may keep pace with pleasures; there is full time, in the course of the day, for both, if you do but manage that time right and like a good economist. The whole morning, if diligently and attentively devoted to solid studies, will go a great way at the year’s end; and the evenings spent in the pleasures of good company, will go as far in teaching you a knowledge, not much less necessary than the other, I mean the knowledge of the world. Between these two necessary studies, that of books in the morning, and that of the world in the evening, you see that you will not have one minute to squander or slattern away. Nobody ever lent themselves more than I did, when I was young, to the pleasures and dissipation of good company. I even did it too much. But then, I can assure you, that I always found time for serious studies; and, when I could find it no other way, I took it out of my sleep, for I resolved always to rise early in the morning, however late I went to bed at night; and this resolution I have kept so sacred, that, unless when I have been confined to my bed by illness, I have not, for more than forty years, ever been in bed at nine o’clock in the morning but commonly up before eight.
While you’ve been in Leipzig, which is more of a study place than a fun or social one, you've had plenty of chances to focus on your studies without interruptions, and I believe you've faced very few distractions. But that's going to change in Berlin, where the glamour and partying of the court and the social scene will be in full view, looking incredibly appealing to all young people. Don’t think that I, like an old man, am going to tell you to ignore these opportunities and hide away in your room: quite the opposite; I suggest you join in and enjoy yourself. However, I also advise you to manage your time wisely so that your learning keeps up with your fun. There’s plenty of time during the day for both, if you organize your time well like a smart planner. If you dedicate the whole morning earnestly to solid studies, it will make a significant difference by the end of the year; and the evenings spent enjoying good company will teach you a kind of knowledge that's almost as important as the other, which is the knowledge of the world. Between these two important pursuits—books in the morning and the world in the evening—you'll find you won’t have a single minute to waste or throw away. I threw myself into the pleasures and socializing of good company more than anyone when I was young. I even went overboard sometimes. But I can assure you that I always made time for serious studies; and when I couldn’t find it any other way, I took it from my sleep, resolving always to get up early in the morning, no matter how late I stayed up. I’ve kept this promise so strictly that, unless I was stuck in bed due to illness, I haven’t been in bed past nine in the morning for more than forty years—I usually get up before eight.
When you are at Berlin, remember to speak German as often as you can, in company; for everybody there will speak French to you, unless you let them know that you can speak German, which then they will choose to speak. Adieu.
When you're in Berlin, make sure to speak German as much as you can in company; everyone there will speak French to you unless you let them know you can speak German, in which case they'll switch to German. Goodbye.
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.
DEAR BOY: I got everything last Saturday through three different mails that arrived at the same time, including two letters from Mr. Harte and yours from the 8th, N. S.
It was I who mistook your meaning, with regard to your German letters, and not you who expressed it ill. I thought it was the writing of the German character that took up so much of your time, and therefore I advised you, by the frequent writing of that character, to make it easy and familiar to you: But, since it is only the propriety and purity of the German language which make your writing it so tedious and laborious, I will tell you I shall not be nice upon that article; and did not expect that you should yet be master of all the idioms, delicacies, and peculiarities of that difficult language. That can only come by use, especially frequent speaking; therefore, when you shall be at Berlin, and afterward at Turin, where you will meet many Germans, pray take all opportunities of conversing in German, in order not only to keep what you have got of that language, but likewise to improve and perfect yourself in it. As to the characters, you form them very well, and as you yourself own, better than your English ones; but then let me ask you this question: Why do you not form your Roman characters better? for I maintain, that it is in every man’s power to write what hand he pleases; and, consequently, that he ought to write a good one. You form, particularly, your ‘ee’ and your ‘ll’ in zigzag, instead of making them straight, as thus, ‘ee’, ‘ll’; a fault very easily mended. You will not, I believe, be angry with this little criticism, when I tell you, that by all the accounts I have had of late from Mr. Harte and others, this is the only criticism that you give me occasion to make. Mr. Harte’s last letter, of the 14th, N. S., particularly, makes me extremely happy, by assuring me that, in every respect, you do exceedingly well. I am not afraid, by what I now say, of making you too vain; because I do not think that a just consciousness and an honest pride of doing well, can be called vanity; for vanity is either the silly affectation of good qualities which one has not, or the sillier pride of what does not deserve commendation in itself. By Mr. Harte’s account, you are got very near the goal of Greek and Latin; and therefore I cannot suppose that, as your sense increases, your endeavors and your speed will slacken in finishing the small remains of your course. Consider what lustre and ‘eclat’ it will give you, when you return here, to be allowed to be the best scholar, for a gentleman, in England; not to mention the real pleasure and solid comfort which such knowledge will give you throughout your whole life. Mr. Harte tells me another thing, which, I own, I did not expect: it is, that when you read aloud, or repeat parts of plays, you speak very properly and distinctly. This relieves me from great uneasiness, which I was under upon account of your former bad enunciation. Go on, and attend most diligently to this important article. It is, of all Graces (and they are all necessary), the most necessary one.
It was I who misunderstood your meaning regarding your German letters, and not you who expressed it poorly. I thought it was the writing in the German script that was taking up so much of your time, so I advised you to write that character frequently to make it easier and more familiar. However, since it's really the rules and complexities of the German language that make your writing it so tedious and difficult, I'll tell you that I won’t be too picky about that. I didn't expect you to have mastered all the idioms, nuances, and peculiarities of that challenging language yet. That expertise will only come with practice, especially with regular speaking; so, when you’re in Berlin and later in Turin, where you’ll meet many Germans, please take every chance to converse in German, not just to maintain what you've learned but also to improve and perfect your skills. As for the characters, you write them very well, and as you've noted, better than your English ones; but let me ask you this: Why don’t you form your Roman characters better? I believe it’s within everyone’s power to write in whatever style they choose, and therefore, everyone should strive to write well. You form your ‘ee’ and ‘ll’ in a zigzag pattern instead of making them straight, like this: ‘ee’, ‘ll’; a mistake that can easily be corrected. I hope you won’t be upset by this small criticism, especially since, from what I've heard lately from Mr. Harte and others, this is the only feedback I have to give you. Mr. Harte’s last letter, dated the 14th, N. S., particularly makes me very happy by assuring me that you’re doing exceedingly well in every respect. I’m not worried that what I’m saying will make you too vain since I don’t think a genuine awareness and honest pride in doing well can be called vanity; vanity is either the silly pretense of having good qualities you don’t possess or the sillier pride in things that don’t deserve praise on their own. According to Mr. Harte, you’re very close to completing Greek and Latin, so I can’t assume that as your understanding grows, your efforts and your pace will slow down in finishing the little bit left of your studies. Think about how impressive and noteworthy it will be when you return here being considered the best scholar among gentlemen in England; not to mention the real pleasure and lasting satisfaction that such knowledge will bring you throughout your life. Mr. Harte tells me something else, which I honestly didn’t expect: that when you read aloud or recite parts of plays, you speak very clearly and distinctly. This eases my significant concern, which I had due to your previous poor enunciation. Keep going, and pay close attention to this crucial aspect. Of all the graces (and they are all important), this is the most essential one.
Comte Pertingue, who has been here about a fortnight, far from disavowing, confirms all that Mr. Harte has said to your advantage. He thinks that he shall be at Turin much about the time of your arrival there, and pleases himself with the hopes of being useful to you. Though, should you get there before him, he says that Comte du Perron, with whom you are a favorite, will take that care. You see, by this one instance, and in the course of your life you will see by a million of instances, of what use a good reputation is, and how swift and advantageous a harbinger it is, wherever one goes. Upon this point, too, Mr. Harte does you justice, and tells me that you are desirous of praise from the praiseworthy. This is a right and generous ambition; and without which, I fear, few people would deserve praise.
Count Pertingue, who has been here for about two weeks, not only confirms everything Mr. Harte has said in your favor but also supports it. He believes he will arrive in Turin around the same time as you and is excited about the possibility of being helpful to you. However, if you get there before he does, he mentioned that Count du Perron, who has a fondness for you, will take care of you. This is just one example, and throughout your life, you'll see countless instances of how valuable a good reputation is and how quickly and beneficially it opens doors wherever you go. Mr. Harte also gives you credit for seeking praise from those who are worthy of it. This is a noble and just ambition; without it, I fear very few people would truly deserve praise.
But here let me, as an old stager upon the theatre of the world, suggest one consideration to you; which is, to extend your desire of praise a little beyond the strictly praiseworthy; or else you may be apt to discover too much contempt for at least three parts in five of the world, who will never forgive it you. In the mass of mankind, I fear, there is too great a majority of fools and, knaves; who, singly from their number, must to a certain degree be respected, though they are by no means respectable. And a man who will show every knave or fool that he thinks him such, will engage in a most ruinous war, against numbers much superior to those that he and his allies can bring into the field. Abhor a knave, and pity a fool in your heart; but let neither of them, unnecessarily, see that you do so. Some complaisance and attention to fools is prudent, and not mean; as a silent abhorrence of individual knaves is often necessary and not criminal.
But let me, as someone experienced in the world, suggest one thing: try to broaden your desire for praise a bit beyond just what is truly praiseworthy. Otherwise, you might end up looking down on at least three out of five people in the world, who will never forgive you for it. Unfortunately, most people are either fools or scoundrels; because of their sheer numbers, they must be respected to some extent, even if they aren’t respectable. A person who openly shows every scoundrel or fool that he thinks they are one will start a losing battle against far more people than he and his allies can muster. Disdain a scoundrel and feel sorry for a fool in your heart, but don’t let either of them see it unnecessarily. It’s wise, and not petty, to show some courtesy and attention to fools, just as silently disapproving of individual scoundrels is often necessary and not wrong.
As you will now soon part with Lord Pulteney, with whom, during your stay together at Leipsig, I suppose you have formed a connection, I imagine that you will continue it by letters, which I would advise you to do. They tell me that he is good-natured, and does not want parts; which are of themselves two good reasons for keeping it up; but there is also a third reason, which, in the course of the world, is not to be despised: His father cannot live long, and will leave him an immense fortune; which, in all events will make him of some consequence; and, if he has parts into the bargain, of very great consequence; so that his friendship, may be extremely well worth your cultivating, especially as it will not cost you above one letter in one month.
As you're about to say goodbye to Lord Pulteney, with whom I assume you've formed a bond during your time in Leipzig, I think it’s a good idea to keep in touch through letters. I've heard that he's friendly and doesn't have a big ego, which are both solid reasons to maintain the connection. There’s also a third reason that shouldn’t be overlooked: his father doesn’t have much time left and will leave him a huge fortune. This will definitely make him significant, and if he turns out to be talented as well, then he’ll be very important. So, his friendship could be really worth fostering, especially since it will only take you one letter a month.
I do not know whether this letter will find you at Leipsig: at least, it is the last that I shall direct there. My next to either you or Mr. Harte will be directed to Berlin; but as I do not know to what house or street there, I suppose it will remain at the posthouse till you send for it. Upon your arrival at Berlin you will send me your particular direction; and also, pray be minute in your accounts of your reception there, by those whom I recommend you to, as well as by those to whom they present you. Remember, too, that you are going to a polite and literate court, where the Graces will best introduce you.
I’m not sure if this letter will reach you in Leipzig; at least, it’s the last one I’ll send there. My next letter to either you or Mr. Harte will be sent to Berlin, but since I don’t know your exact address or street there, I guess it will stay at the post office until you pick it up. Once you arrive in Berlin, please send me your specific address; and also, be detailed in your updates about how you’re received by the people I recommended, as well as by those they introduce you to. Remember, you’re going to a polite and cultured court, where your charm will help you fit in.
Adieu. God bless you, and may you continue to deserve my love, as much as you now enjoy it!
Goodbye. God bless you, and may you keep deserving my love just as much as you enjoy it now!
P. S. Lady Chesterfield bids me tell you, that she decides entirely in your favor against Mr. Grevenkop, and even against herself; for she does not think that she could, at this time, write either so good a character or so good German. Pray write her a German letter upon that subject, in which you may tell her, that, like the rest of the world, you approve of her judgment, because it is in your favor; and that you true Germans cannot allow Danes to be competent judges of your language, etc.
P.S. Lady Chesterfield wants me to let you know that she fully supports you over Mr. Grevenkop, and even over herself; she doesn't think she could write either a good character reference or good German at this time. Please write her a German letter about this, where you can tell her that, like everyone else, you agree with her judgment because it favors you, and that you true Germans can't accept Danes as proper judges of your language, etc.
LETTER LXI
LONDON, December 30, O. S. 1748.
DEAR BOY: I direct this letter to Berlin, where, I suppose, it will either find you, or at least wait but a very little time for you. I cannot help being anxious for your success, at this your first appearance upon the great stage of the world; for, though the spectators are always candid enough to give great allowances, and to show great indulgence to a new actor; yet, from the first impressions which he makes upon them, they are apt to decide, in their own minds, at least, whether he will ever be a good one, or not. If he seems to understand what he says, by speaking it properly; if he is attentive to his part, instead of staring negligently about him; and if, upon the whole, he seems ambitious to please, they willingly pass over little awkwardnesses and inaccuracies, which they ascribe to a commendable modesty in a young and inexperienced actor. They pronounce that he will be a good one in time; and, by the encouragement which they give him, make him so the sooner. This, I hope, will be your case: you have sense enough to understand your part; a constant attention, and ambition to excel in it, with a careful observation of the best actors, will inevitably qualify you, if not for the first, at least for considerable parts.
DEAR BOY: I'm sending this letter to Berlin, where I hope it will reach you soon. I can’t help but worry about your success as you make your first appearance on the big stage of the world. While the audience usually gives plenty of leeway and shows understanding toward a newcomer, they tend to quickly form opinions based on first impressions about whether that person will ever be good. If you seem to grasp what you’re saying by delivering it well, if you pay attention to your role instead of looking around aimlessly, and if you overall seem eager to impress, they’ll overlook minor awkwardness and mistakes, attributing them to the natural modesty of a young, inexperienced performer. They’ll say you’ll be good in time, and their encouragement will help you get there faster. I hope this is true for you: you have the intelligence to understand your role; with consistent focus and a desire to shine in it, along with careful observation of the best actors, you will surely qualify for significant roles, if not the leading ones.
Your dress (as insignificant a thing as dress is in itself) is now become an object worthy of some attention; for, I confess, I cannot help forming some opinion of a man’s sense and character from his dress; and I believe most people do as well as myself. Any affectation whatsoever in dress implies, in my mind, a flaw in the understanding. Most of our young fellows here display some character or other by their dress; some affect the tremendous, and wear a great and fiercely cocked hat, an enormous sword, a short waistcoat and a black cravat; these I should be almost tempted to swear the peace against, in my own defense, if I were not convinced that they are but meek asses in lions’ skins. Others go in brown frocks, leather breeches, great oaken cudgels in their hands, their hats uncocked, and their hair unpowdered; and imitate grooms, stage-coachmen, and country bumpkins so well in their outsides, that I do not make the least doubt of their resembling them equally in their insides. A man of sense carefully avoids any particular character in his dress; he is accurately clean for his own sake; but all the rest is for other people’s. He dresses as well, and in the same manner, as the people of sense and fashion of the place where he is. If he dresses better, as he thinks, that is, more than they, he is a fop; if he dresses worse, he is unpardonably negligent. But, of the two, I would rather have a young fellow too much than too little dressed; the excess on that side will wear off, with a little age and reflection; but if he is negligent at twenty, he will be a sloven at forty, and stink at fifty years old. Dress yourself fine, where others are fine; and plain where others are plain; but take care always that your clothes are well made, and fit you, for otherwise they will give you a very awkward air. When you are once well dressed for the day think no more of it afterward; and, without any stiffness for fear of discomposing that dress, let all your motions be as easy and natural as if you had no clothes on at all. So much for dress, which I maintain to be a thing of consequence in the polite world.
Your outfit (as trivial as it may seem) has now become something worth noticing; I admit, I can’t help but form an opinion about a person’s style and character based on their clothing, and I believe most people think the same way. Any pretentiousness in clothing suggests, to me, a flaw in judgment. Many of the young men around here show some sort of character through their outfits; some try to appear impressive, sporting a large, flamboyant hat, a massive sword, a short waistcoat, and a black cravat; I’d almost be tempted to report them for disturbing the peace if I didn’t think they were just timid fools dressing as if they were bold. Others wear brown coats, leather pants, carry hefty sticks, have their hats untipped, and their hair unstyled, mimicking grooms, coach drivers, and country bumpkins so convincingly that I have no doubt they are just as simple on the inside. A sensible man avoids standing out with his clothing; he keeps himself clean for his own sake, but the rest is for others to judge. He dresses as well as the stylish and sensible people around him. If he dresses better, thinking he’s outdoing them, he’s just a dandy; if he dresses worse, he’s unforgivably careless. But between the two, I’d prefer a young man who dresses a bit too much rather than too little; any excess will fade with time and maturity, but if he’s careless at twenty, he’ll be a slob at forty and unpleasant by fifty. Dress well when others do; dress simply when they do. Always make sure your clothes fit well and are tailored properly, or they’ll make you look awkward. Once you’re dressed for the day, don’t think about it anymore; move easily and naturally as if you weren’t wearing anything at all. That’s my take on clothing, which I believe is important in polite society.
As to manners, good-breeding, and the Graces, I have so often entertained you upon those important subjects, that I can add nothing to what I have formerly said. Your own good sense will suggest to you the substance of them; and observation, experience, and good company, the several modes of them. Your great vivacity, which I hear of from many people, will be no hindrance to your pleasing in good company: on the contrary, will be of use to you, if tempered by good-breeding and accompanied by the Graces. But then, I suppose your vivacity to be a vivacity of parts, and not a constitutional restlessness; for the most disagreeable composition that I know in the world, is that of strong animal spirits, with a cold genius. Such a fellow is troublesomely active, frivolously busy, foolishly lively; talks much with little meaning, and laughs more, with less reason whereas, in my opinion, a warm and lively genius with a cool constitution, is the perfection of human nature.
Regarding manners, good breeding, and the Graces, I've often talked to you about these important topics, so I have nothing new to add. Your own good judgment will point you to their essence, while observation, experience, and being around the right people will show you different ways to express them. I've heard from many that your great liveliness won't prevent you from being enjoyable in good company; in fact, it can help you, as long as it's balanced by good breeding and accompanied by the Graces. However, I hope your liveliness comes from wit rather than a natural restlessness, because the most unpleasant combination I've ever encountered is that of high energy with a lack of depth. Such a person is annoyingly active, superficially busy, and foolishly cheerful; they talk a lot with little substance and laugh often for no good reason. In my view, the ideal human nature is a warm and lively spirit with a calm demeanor.
Do what you will at Berlin, provided you do but do something all day long. All that I desire of you is, that you will never slattern away one minute in idleness and in doing of nothing. When you are (not) in company, learn what either books, masters, or Mr. Harte, can teach you; and when you are in company, learn (what company can only teach you) the characters and manners of mankind. I really ask your pardon for giving you this advice; because, if you are a rational creature and thinking being, as I suppose, and verily believe you are, it must be unnecessary, and to a certain degree injurious. If I did not know by experience, that some men pass their whole time in doing nothing, I should not think it possible for any being, superior to Monsieur Descartes’ automatons, to squander away, in absolute idleness, one single minute of that small portion of time which is allotted us in this world.
Do whatever you want in Berlin, as long as you’re doing something all day long. All I ask is that you never waste a minute in idleness or doing nothing. When you’re not with others, learn what books, teachers, or Mr. Harte can teach you; and when you are with others, learn what they can teach you about people's personalities and behaviors. I really apologize for giving you this advice because, if you're a rational and thinking person as I believe you are, it should be unnecessary and somewhat harmful. If I didn’t know from experience that some people spend their entire time doing nothing, I wouldn’t believe it was possible for anyone, more advanced than Monsieur Descartes’ automatons, to waste even a single minute of the limited time we have in this world.
I have lately seen one Mr. Cranmer, a very sensible merchant, who told me that he had dined with you, and seen you often at Leipsig. And yesterday I saw an old footman of mine, whom I made a messenger, who told me that he had seen you last August. You will easily imagine, that I was not the less glad to see them because they had seen you; and I examined them both narrowly, in their respective departments; the former as to your mind, the latter, as to your body. Mr. Cranmer gave me great satisfaction, not only by what he told me of himself concerning you, but by what he was commissioned to tell me from Mr. Mascow. As he speaks German perfectly himself, I asked him how you spoke it; and he assured me very well for the time, and that a very little more practice would make you perfectly master of it. The messenger told me that you were much grown, and, to the best of his guess, within two inches as tall as I am; that you were plump, and looked healthy and strong; which was all that I could expect, or hope, from the sagacity of the person.
I recently met Mr. Cranmer, a very sensible merchant, who told me that he had dined with you and seen you often in Leipzig. Yesterday, I ran into an old footman of mine, whom I had made a messenger, and he said he saw you last August. You can easily imagine that I was very happy to see them, especially since they had seen you, and I asked them both detailed questions in their areas; the former about your mind, the latter about your body. Mr. Cranmer gave me great satisfaction, not only with what he told me about himself regarding you but also with what he was tasked to relay from Mr. Mascow. Since he speaks German perfectly, I asked him how you spoke it, and he assured me that you were doing very well for the time being and that with just a little more practice, you'd master it completely. The messenger told me that you have grown a lot, and to the best of his estimate, you are about two inches taller than I am; that you are plump and look healthy and strong, which is all I could expect or hope for from his insight.
I send you, my dear child (and you will not doubt it), very sincerely, the wishes of the season. May you deserve a great number of happy New-years; and, if you deserve, may you have them. Many New-years, indeed, you may see, but happy ones you cannot see without deserving them. These, virtue, honor, and knowledge, alone can merit, alone can procure, ‘Dii tibi dent annos, de te nam cetera sumes’, was a pretty piece of poetical flattery, where it was said: I hope that, in time, it may be no flattery when said to you. But I assure you, that wherever I cannot apply the latter part of the line to you with truth, I shall neither say, think, or wish the former. Adieu!
I send you, my dear child (and you know it's true), my heartfelt wishes for the season. May you earn many happy New Years; and if you earn them, may you enjoy them. You may experience many New Years, but you can’t have happy ones without deserving them. Only virtue, honor, and knowledge can earn them. The line ‘Dii tibi dent annos, de te nam cetera sumes’ was a nice bit of poetic flattery, and I hope that, over time, it won’t just be flattery when said to you. But I assure you that wherever I can't honestly apply the second part of the line to you, I won’t say, think, or wish the first part. Goodbye!
1749
LETTER LXII
LETTER 62
LONDON, January 10, O. S. 1749.
LONDON, January 10, 1749.
DEAR BOY: I have received your letter of the 31st December, N. S. Your thanks for my present, as you call it, exceed the value of the present; but the use, which you assure me that you will make of it, is the thanks which I desire to receive. Due attention to the inside of books, and due contempt for the outside, is the proper relation between a man of sense and his books.
DEAR BOY: I got your letter from December 31st, New Style. Your gratitude for my gift, as you call it, is greater than the gift itself; but the way you promise to use it is the appreciation I truly want. A sensible person should value the contents of books and not worry too much about their covers.
Now that you are going a little more into the world; I will take this occasion to explain my intentions as to your future expenses, that you may know what you have to expect from me, and make your plan accordingly. I shall neither deny nor grudge you any money, that may be necessary for either your improvement or your pleasures: I mean the pleasures of a rational being. Under the head of improvement, I mean the best books, and the best masters, cost what they will; I also mean all the expense of lodgings, coach, dress; servants, etc., which, according to the several places where you may be, shall be respectively necessary to enable you to keep the best company. Under the head of rational pleasures, I comprehend, first, proper charities, to real and compassionate objects of it; secondly, proper presents to those to whom you are obliged, or whom you desire to oblige; thirdly, a conformity of expense to that of the company which you keep; as in public spectacles; your share of little entertainments; a few pistoles at games of mere commerce; and other incidental calls of good company. The only two articles which I will never supply, are the profusion of low riot, and the idle lavishness of negligence and laziness. A fool squanders away, without credit or advantage to himself, more than a man of sense spends with both. The latter employs his money as he does his time, and never spends a shilling of the one, nor a minute of the other, but in something that is either useful or rationally pleasing to himself or others. The former buys whatever he does not want, and does not pay for what he does want. He cannot withstand the charms of a toyshop; snuff-boxes, watches, heads of canes, etc., are his destruction. His servants and tradesmen conspire with his own indolence to cheat him; and, in a very little time, he is astonished, in the midst of all the ridiculous superfluities, to find himself in want of all the real comforts and necessaries of life. Without care and method, the largest fortune will not, and with them, almost the smallest will, supply all necessary expenses. As far as you can possibly, pay ready money for everything you buy and avoid bills. Pay that money, too, yourself, and not through the hands of any servant, who always either stipulates poundage, or requires a present for his good word, as they call it. Where you must have bills (as for meat and drink, clothes, etc.), pay them regularly every month, and with your own hand. Never, from a mistaken economy, buy a thing you do not want, because it is cheap; or from a silly pride, because it is dear. Keep an account in a book of all that you receive, and of all that you pay; for no man who knows what he receives and what he pays ever runs out. I do not mean that you should keep an account of the shillings and half-crowns which you may spend in chair-hire, operas, etc.: they are unworthy of the time, and of the ink that they would consume; leave such minutia to dull, penny-wise fellows; but remember, in economy, as well as in every other part of life, to have the proper attention to proper objects, and the proper contempt for little ones. A strong mind sees things in their true proportions; a weak one views them through a magnifying medium, which, like the microscope, makes an elephant of a flea: magnifies all little objects, but cannot receive great ones. I have known many a man pass for a miser, by saving a penny and wrangling for twopence, who was undoing himself at the same time by living above his income, and not attending to essential articles which were above his ‘portee’. The sure characteristic of a sound and strong mind, is to find in everything those certain bounds, ‘quos ultra citrave nequit consistere rectum’. These boundaries are marked out by a very fine line, which only good sense and attention can discover; it is much too fine for vulgar eyes. In manners, this line is good-breeding; beyond it, is troublesome ceremony; short of it, is unbecoming negligence and inattention. In morals, it divides ostentatious puritanism from criminal relaxation; in religion, superstition from impiety: and, in short, every virtue from its kindred vice or weakness. I think you have sense enough to discover the line; keep it always in your eye, and learn to walk upon it; rest upon Mr. Harte, and he will poise you till you are able to go alone. By the way, there are fewer people who walk well upon that line, than upon the slack rope; and therefore a good performer shines so much the more.
Now that you’re getting a bit more involved in the world, I want to take this opportunity to share my thoughts about your future expenses, so you know what to expect from me and can plan accordingly. I won’t deny or hold back any money that’s necessary for either your education or your pleasures, and by pleasures, I mean those that are reasonable for a person. By education, I mean the best books and the best teachers, no matter the cost; I also include all the expenses for lodging, transportation, clothing, servants, and so on, which will depend on where you are and what you need to socialize with the best company. Regarding reasonable pleasures, I include, first, proper charitable donations to genuine causes; secondly, appropriate gifts for those you owe something to or want to please; thirdly, expenses that align with those of your companions, like attending public events, contributing to small gatherings, a few bucks at games of chance, and other incidental costs that arise in good company. The only two things I won’t support are reckless indulgence and the careless extravagance that comes from laziness. A fool wastes money without gaining any benefit, while a sensible person spends wisely and thoughtfully. The latter uses his money as he does his time, never wasting a dime or a minute without something useful or genuinely enjoyable for himself or others. The fool, however, buys things he doesn’t want and neglects to pay for what he actually needs. He can’t resist the allure of a shop full of trinkets; items like snuffboxes, watches, and cane handles lead to his downfall. His servants and vendors conspire with his own laziness to cheat him, and soon enough, he finds himself surrounded by absurd luxuries while lacking all the genuine comforts and necessities of life. Without discipline and organization, even the largest fortune will fail, while, with them, even a small one can cover all necessary expenses. Whenever possible, pay cash for everything and avoid bills. Pay with your own money, not through a servant’s hands, since they often take a percentage or expect tips to offer good service. When you must have bills (for food, clothing, etc.), settle them monthly and handle them yourself. Don’t mistakenly buy something just because it’s cheap, nor buy something out of pride just because it’s expensive. Keep a record of all your income and expenses; no one who tracks their finances ever loses control. I don’t mean you should keep track of every small purchase like chair hire or opera tickets; that’s not worth your time or effort—leave those details to petty, stingy people. But remember, in budgeting, as in all aspects of life, focus on what truly matters and ignore the insignificant. A strong mind sees things in their true proportions, while a weak mind exaggerates them, like a microscope making a flea seem as big as an elephant: it magnifies trivial matters but fails to grasp the bigger picture. I’ve seen many people come across as cheapskates for saving pennies and haggling over small amounts while, at the same time, ruining themselves by living beyond their means and ignoring essential expenses that exceed their budget. A sure sign of a well-balanced mind is knowing how to find the right limits. These limits are marked by a fine line, which only good sense and careful attention can identify; it’s much too subtle for the average person. In manners, this line represents good breeding; beyond it lies excessive formality, while below it is careless neglect and inattention. In morals, it separates ostentatious puritanism from immoral laxity; in religion, superstition from irreverence; and, in essence, every virtue from its related vice or weakness. I believe you have the insight to recognize this line; keep it in sight and learn to navigate it. Trust in Mr. Harte, and he will guide you until you can manage on your own. By the way, there are fewer people who walk that line gracefully than those who can stroll along a slack rope, so a good performer stands out even more.
Your friend Comte Pertingue, who constantly inquires after you, has written to Comte Salmour, the Governor of the Academy at Turin, to prepare a room for you there immediately after the Ascension: and has recommended you to him in a manner which I hope you will give him no reason to repent or be ashamed of. As Comte Salmour’s son, now residing at The Hague, is my particular acquaintance, I shall have regular and authentic accounts of all that you do at Turin.
Your friend Comte Pertingue, who always asks about you, has written to Comte Salmour, the Governor of the Academy in Turin, to set up a room for you right after the Ascension. He’s recommended you to him in a way that I hope you’ll make him proud and not give him any reason to regret it. Since Comte Salmour’s son, who is currently living in The Hague, is someone I know well, I’ll be getting regular and reliable updates on everything you do in Turin.
During your stay at Berlin, I expect that you should inform yourself thoroughly of the present state of the civil, military, and ecclesiastical government of the King of Prussia’s dominions; particularly of the military, which is upon a better footing in that country than in any other in Europe.
During your time in Berlin, I expect you to educate yourself about the current state of civil, military, and church governance in the King of Prussia’s territories; especially the military, which is in better shape there than in any other country in Europe.
You will attend at the reviews, see the troops exercised, and inquire into the numbers of troops and companies in the respective regiments of horse, foot, and dragoons; the numbers and titles of the commissioned and non-commissioned officers in the several troops and companies; and also take care to learn the technical military terms in the German language; for though you are not to be a military man, yet these military matters are so frequently the subject of conversation, that you will look very awkwardly if you are ignorant of them. Moreover, they are commonly the objects of negotiation, and, as such, fall within your future profession. You must also inform yourself of the reformation which the King of Prussia has lately made in the law; by which he has both lessened the number, and shortened the duration of law-suits; a great work, and worthy of so great a prince! As he is indisputably the ablest prince in Europe, every part of his government deserves your most diligent inquiry, and your most serious attention. It must be owned that you set out well, as a young politician, by beginning at Berlin, and then going to Turin, where you will see the next ablest monarch to that of Prussia; so that, if you are capable of making political reflections, those two princes will furnish you with sufficient matter for them.
You will attend the reviews, observe the troops being trained, and find out the numbers of troops and companies in the different regiments of cavalry, infantry, and dragoons; the count and titles of the commissioned and non-commissioned officers in the various troops and companies; and also make sure to learn the military jargon in German. Even though you're not planning to be a soldier, military topics come up a lot in conversation, so it would be awkward if you're not familiar with them. Furthermore, these matters often involve negotiations, which relate to your future career. You should also educate yourself about the reforms that the King of Prussia has recently implemented in the law, which have reduced both the number and the duration of lawsuits—a significant achievement, truly deserving of such a great prince! Since he is undeniably the most capable ruler in Europe, every aspect of his government merits your closest examination and serious attention. It's commendable that you’ve started well as a young politician by beginning in Berlin and then heading to Turin, where you'll encounter the next most competent monarch after Prussia. So, if you're able to think politically, these two kings will provide you with plenty of material to consider.
I would have you endeavor to get acquainted with Monsieur de Maupertuis, who is so eminently distinguished by all kinds of learning and merit, that one should be both sorry and ashamed of having been even a day in the same place with him, and not to have seen him. If you should have no other way of being introduced to him, I will send you a letter from hence. Monsieur Cagenoni, at Berlin, to whom I know you are recommended, is a very able man of business, thoroughly informed of every part of Europe; and his acquaintance, if you deserve and improve it as you should do, may be of great use to you.
I encourage you to get to know Monsieur de Maupertuis, who is exceptionally knowledgeable and accomplished. You should feel both regretful and embarrassed to have spent even a day in the same place as him without meeting him. If you don't have any other way to be introduced, I can send you a letter from here. Monsieur Cagenoni in Berlin, whom I know you’ve been referred to, is a very capable businessman, well-acquainted with every part of Europe. If you respect and make the most of this connection, it could be very beneficial for you.
Remember to take the best dancing-master at Berlin, more to teach you to sit, stand, and walk gracefully, than to dance finely. The Graces, the Graces; remember the Graces! Adieu!
Remember to get the best dance instructor in Berlin, more to teach you how to sit, stand, and walk gracefully than to dance well. The Graces, the Graces; remember the Graces! Goodbye!
LETTER LXIII
LONDON, January 24, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: I have received your letter of the 12th, N. S., in which I was surprised to find no mention of your approaching journey to Berlin, which, according to the first plan, was to be on the 20th, N. S., and upon which supposition I have for some time directed my letters to you, and Mr. Harte, at Berlin. I should be glad that yours were more minute with regard to your motions and transactions; and I desire that, for the future, they may contain accounts of what and who you see and hear, in your several places of residence; for I interest myself as much in the company you keep, and the pleasures you take, as in the studies you pursue; and therefore, equally desire to be informed of them all. Another thing I desire, which is, that you will acknowledge my letters by their dates, that I may know which you do, and which you do not receive.
DEAR BOY: I got your letter from the 12th, N.S., and I was surprised to see no mention of your upcoming trip to Berlin, which was originally planned for the 20th, N.S. I have been addressing my letters to you and Mr. Harte in Berlin based on that plan. I would appreciate it if your letters could include more details about your activities and interactions; I want to hear about who you meet and what you do in your various places of stay. I'm just as interested in the company you keep and the fun you have as I am in your studies, so I hope you’ll keep me updated on everything. Lastly, I’d like you to acknowledge my letters by their dates so I can keep track of what you receive and what you don’t.
As you found your brain considerably affected by the cold, you were very prudent not to turn it to poetry in that situation; and not less judicious in declining the borrowed aid of a stove, whose fumigation, instead of inspiration, would at best have produced what Mr. Pope calls a souterkin of wit. I will show your letter to Duval, by way of justification for not answering his challenge; and I think he must allow the validity of it; for a frozen brain is as unfit to answer a challenge in poetry, as a blunt sword is for a single combat.
As you noticed that the cold greatly affected your thinking, you wisely decided not to try to write poetry in that moment; and it was just as smart to turn down the borrowed warmth of a stove, which, instead of inspiring you, would have at most made you come up with something trivial, as Mr. Pope would call it, a half-hearted attempt at wit. I’ll share your letter with Duval to justify why I haven’t responded to his challenge; I think he’ll understand, because a frozen brain is just as incapable of responding to a poetic challenge as a dull sword is in a duel.
You may if you please, and therefore I flatter myself that you will, profit considerably by your stay at Berlin, in the article of manners and useful knowledge. Attention to what you will see and hear there, together with proper inquiries, and a little care and method in taking notes of what is more material, will procure you much useful knowledge. Many young people are so light, so dissipated, and so incurious, that they can hardly be said to see what they see, or hear what they hear: that is, they hear in so superficial and inattentive a manner, that they might as well not see nor hear at all. For instance, if they see a public building, as a college, an hospital, an arsenal, etc., they content themselves with the first ‘coup d’oeil’, and neither take the time nor the trouble of informing themselves of the material parts of them; which are the constitution, the rules, and the order and economy in the inside. You will, I hope, go deeper, and make your way into the substance of things. For example, should you see a regiment reviewed at Berlin or Potsdam, instead of contenting yourself with the general glitter of the collective corps, and saying, ‘par maniere d’acquit’, that is very fine, I hope you will ask what number of troops or companies it consists of; what number of officers of the Etat Major, and what number of subalternes; how many ‘bas officiers’, or non-commissioned officers, as sergeants, corporals, ‘anspessades, frey corporals’, etc., their pay, their clothing, and by whom; whether by the colonels, or captains, or commissaries appointed for that purpose; to whom they are accountable; the method of recruiting, completing, etc.
You might if you want to, and I’m hopeful that you will, benefit greatly from your time in Berlin, particularly in terms of social skills and valuable knowledge. Paying attention to what you see and hear, asking the right questions, and taking some care in jotting down important details will give you a lot of useful insights. Many young people are so careless, so distracted, and so uninterested that they barely notice what they see or hear: they listen so superficially and without focus that it’s almost like they don’t see or hear at all. For instance, when they see a public building like a college, a hospital, or an arsenal, they’re satisfied with just the initial impression and don’t take the time or effort to learn about its essential aspects, like its structure, rules, and how it operates internally. I hope you will dig deeper and explore the core of things. For example, if you see a regiment being reviewed in Berlin or Potsdam, rather than being satisfied with the overall spectacle of the troops and simply saying, “that looks great,” I hope you will inquire about the number of troops or companies involved, how many officers there are, and how many junior officers like sergeants and corporals, etc. You might want to find out about their pay, their uniforms, and who provides them—whether it’s the colonels, captains, or specific commissaries—who they report to, and the recruitment process.
The same in civil matters: inform yourself of the jurisdiction of a court of justice; of the rules and numbers and endowments of a college, or an academy, and not only of the dimensions of the respective edifices; and let your letters to me contain these informations, in proportion as you acquire them.
The same applies to civil matters: find out about the jurisdiction of a court, the rules, enrollment numbers, and funding of a college or academy, not just the size of the buildings. Make sure to include this information in your letters to me as you learn it.
I often reflect, with the most flattering hopes, how proud I shall be of you, if you should profit, as you may, of the opportunities which you have had, still have, and will have, of arriving at perfection; and, on the other hand, with dread of the grief and shame you will give me if you do not. May the first be the case! God bless you!
I often think, with the highest hopes, about how proud I will be of you if you take advantage of the opportunities you've had, still have, and will have to achieve greatness. On the flip side, I worry about the sadness and embarrassment you’ll cause me if you don’t. I hope it’s the first! God bless you!
LETTER LXIV
LONDON, February 7, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: You are now come to an age capable of reflection, and I hope you will do, what, however, few people at your age do, exert it for your own sake in the search of truth and sound knowledge. I will confess (for I am not unwilling to discover my secrets to you) that it is not many years since I have presumed to reflect for myself. Till sixteen or seventeen I had no reflection; and for many years after that, I made no use of what I had. I adopted the notions of the books I read, or the company I kept, without examining whether they were just or not; and I rather chose to run the risk of easy error, than to take the time and trouble of investigating truth. Thus, partly from laziness, partly from dissipation, and partly from the ‘mauvaise honte’ of rejecting fashionable notions, I was (as I have since found) hurried away by prejudices, instead of being guided by reason; and quietly cherished error, instead of seeking for truth. But since I have taken the trouble of reasoning for myself, and have had the courage to own that I do so, you cannot imagine how much my notions of things are altered, and in how different a light I now see them, from that in which I formerly viewed them, through the deceitful medium of prejudice or authority. Nay, I may possibly still retain many errors, which, from long habit, have perhaps grown into real opinions; for it is very difficult to distinguish habits, early acquired and long entertained, from the result of our reason and reflection.
DEAR BOY: You've reached an age where you can think for yourself, and I hope you'll do what, unfortunately, few people your age manage: use that ability to seek out truth and solid knowledge for your own benefit. I’ll admit (since I’m willing to share my thoughts with you) that it hasn't been many years since I learned to reflect for myself. Until I was around sixteen or seventeen, I didn’t think critically; and for many years after that, I didn’t use what I knew. I just accepted the ideas from the books I read or the people I hung out with without questioning whether they were right or wrong; I preferred taking the easy route and risking making mistakes rather than putting in the time and effort to find the truth. So, partly out of laziness, partly from distraction, and partly from the awkwardness of rejecting popular beliefs, I was (as I’ve learned since then) swept away by biases instead of being guided by reason, and I passively held onto misconceptions rather than searching for the truth. However, since I started thinking for myself and had the courage to admit it, you can’t imagine how much my views have changed and how differently I see things now compared to how I used to view them through the misleading lens of bias or authority. I may still hold onto many misconceptions that, due to long-standing habits, have probably solidified into genuine beliefs; it’s quite hard to separate early habits that we’ve held for a long time from the outcomes of our reasoning and reflection.
My first prejudice (for I do not mention the prejudices of boys, and women, such as hobgoblins, ghosts, dreams, spilling salt, etc.) was my classical enthusiasm, which I received from the books I read, and the masters who explained them to me. I was convinced there had been no common sense nor common honesty in the world for these last fifteen hundred years; but that they were totally extinguished with the ancient Greek and Roman governments. Homer and Virgil could have no faults, because they were ancient; Milton and Tasso could have no merit, because they were modern. And I could almost have said, with regard to the ancients, what Cicero, very absurdly and unbecomingly for a philosopher, says with regard to Plato, ‘Cum quo errare malim quam cum aliis recte sentire’. Whereas now, without any extraordinary effort of genius, I have discovered that nature was the same three thousand years ago as it is at present; that men were but men then as well as now; that modes and customs vary often, but that human nature is always the same. And I can no more suppose that men were better, braver, or wiser, fifteen hundred or three thousand years ago, than I can suppose that the animals or vegetables were better then than they are now. I dare assert too, in defiance of the favorers of the ancients, that Homer’s hero, Achilles, was both a brute and a scoundrel, and consequently an improper character for the hero of an epic poem; he had so little regard for his country, that he would not act in defense of it, because he had quarreled with Agamemnon about a w—-e; and then afterward, animated by private resentment only, he went about killing people basely, I will call it, because he knew himself invulnerable; and yet, invulnerable as he was, he wore the strongest armor in the world; which I humbly apprehend to be a blunder; for a horse-shoe clapped to his vulnerable heel would have been sufficient. On the other hand, with submission to the favorers of the moderns, I assert with Mr. Dryden, that the devil is in truth the hero of Milton’s poem; his plan, which he lays, pursues, and at last executes, being the subject of the poem. From all which considerations I impartially conclude that the ancients had their excellencies and their defects, their virtues and their vices, just like the moderns; pedantry and affectation of learning decide clearly in favor of the former; vanity and ignorance, as peremptorily in favor of the latter. Religious prejudices kept pace with my classical ones; and there was a time when I thought it impossible for the honestest man in the world to be saved out of the pale of the Church of England, not considering that matters of opinion do not depend upon the will; and that it is as natural, and as allowable, that another man should differ in opinion from me, as that I should differ from him; and that if we are both sincere, we are both blameless; and should consequently have mutual indulgence for each other.
My first bias (I won't mention the superstitions of boys and women, like hobgoblins, ghosts, dreams, spilling salt, etc.) was my classical enthusiasm, which I got from the books I read and the teachers who explained them to me. I was convinced that common sense and honesty had disappeared from the world for the last fifteen hundred years; that they were completely gone with the ancient Greek and Roman governments. Homer and Virgil could have no flaws because they were ancient; Milton and Tasso had no merit because they were modern. I could almost echo what Cicero, quite absurdly for a philosopher, says about Plato: ‘I would rather be wrong with him than right with others.’ Now, without any extraordinary burst of genius, I’ve realized that human nature was the same three thousand years ago as it is today; that people were just people then, just as they are now; that customs and trends change often, but human nature is always constant. I can’t believe that people were better, braver, or wiser fifteen hundred or three thousand years ago, anymore than I can believe that animals or plants were better then than they are now. I’ll also boldly argue, contradicting those who favor the ancients, that Homer’s hero, Achilles, was both a brute and a scoundrel, and therefore not a suitable character for a hero in an epic poem; he cared so little for his country that he wouldn’t defend it because he had a fight with Agamemnon over a woman; and then afterward, driven only by personal anger, he went around killing people cowardly, as I see it, because he knew he couldn’t be hurt; and yet, as invulnerable as he was, he wore the strongest armor in the world, which I think is a mistake; a horseshoe on his vulnerable heel would have sufficed. On the other hand, with respect to those who favor the moderns, I agree with Mr. Dryden that the devil is truly the hero of Milton’s poem; his plan, which he sets out, follows through, and ultimately carries out, is the subject of the poem. Given all these considerations, I conclude fairly that the ancients had their strengths and weaknesses, their virtues and vices, just like the moderns; pedantry and a pretentious display of learning clearly favor the former; vanity and ignorance just as strongly favor the latter. My religious biases followed closely behind my classical ones; there was a time when I thought it impossible for the most honest person in the world to be saved outside the Church of England, not realizing that opinions are not a matter of will; that it is just as natural and acceptable for one person to hold a different opinion from me as it is for me to differ from him; and that if we are both sincere, we are both blameless; and therefore should have mutual understanding for each other.
The next prejudices that I adopted were those of the ‘beau monde’, in which as I was determined to shine, I took what are commonly called the genteel vices to be necessary. I had heard them reckoned so, and without further inquiry I believed it, or at least should have been ashamed to have denied it, for fear of exposing myself to the ridicule of those whom I considered as the models of fine gentlemen. But I am now neither ashamed nor afraid to assert that those genteel vices, as they are falsely called, are only so many blemishes in the character of even a man of the world and what is called a fine gentleman, and degrade him in the opinions of those very people, to whom he, hopes to recommend himself by them. Nay, this prejudice often extends so far, that I have known people pretend to vices they had not, instead of carefully concealing those they had.
The next biases I picked up were those of the ‘high society,’ where I was determined to stand out, and I accepted what are typically called the classy vices as essential. I had heard them referred to that way, and without questioning it further, I believed it, or at least I would have felt embarrassed to deny it, fearing the mockery of those I looked up to as the ideal gentlemen. But now, I'm neither embarrassed nor afraid to say that those so-called classy vices are merely flaws in the character of even a worldly man or what’s known as a fine gentleman, and they lower him in the eyes of the very people he hopes to impress. In fact, this bias often goes so far that I've seen people pretend to have vices they didn’t, instead of hiding the ones they did have.
Use and assert your own reason; reflect, examine, and analyze everything, in order to form a sound and mature judgment; let no (authority) impose upon your understanding, mislead your actions, or dictate your conversation. Be early what, if you are not, you will when too late wish you had been. Consult your reason betimes: I do not say that it will always prove an unerring guide; for human reason is not infallible; but it will prove the least erring guide that you can follow. Books and conversation may assist it; but adopt neither blindly and implicitly; try both by that best rule, which God has given to direct us, reason. Of all the troubles, do not decline, as many people do, that of thinking. The herd of mankind can hardly be said to think; their notions are almost all adoptive; and, in general, I believe it is better that it should be so, as such common prejudices contribute more to order and quiet than their own separate reasonings would do, uncultivated and unimproved as they are. We have many of those useful prejudices in this country, which I should be very sorry to see removed. The good Protestant conviction, that the Pope is both Antichrist and the Whore of Babylon, is a more effectual preservative in this country against popery, than all the solid and unanswerable arguments of Chillingworth.
Use and trust your own reasoning; think critically, examine, and analyze everything to form a sound and mature judgment. Don't let any authority influence your understanding, mislead your actions, or control your conversation. Be proactive in becoming what you will wish you had been rather than waiting until it’s too late. Consult your reason early on: I’m not saying it will always lead you perfectly, since human reasoning isn’t infallible, but it will be the least flawed guide you can follow. Books and conversations can help, but don’t accept either blindly or without questioning. Test both against the best standard we have, which is reason. Among all the challenges, don’t shy away from thinking, as many do. Most people simply don’t think for themselves; their ideas are largely adopted from others. In general, I believe it’s better that way because these common beliefs contribute more to order and peace than their unrefined individual reasoning would. We have many of those useful beliefs in this country, which I would be very sorry to lose. The strong Protestant belief that the Pope is both Antichrist and the Whore of Babylon serves as a more effective safeguard against Catholicism in this country than all the solid and unassailable arguments of Chillingworth.
The idle story of the pretender’s having been introduced in a warming pan into the queen’s bed, though as destitute of all probability as of all foundation, has been much more prejudicial to the cause of Jacobitism than all that Mr. Locke and others have written, to show the unreasonableness and absurdity of the doctrines of indefeasible hereditary right, and unlimited passive obedience. And that silly, sanguine notion, which is firmly entertained here, that one Englishman can beat three Frenchmen, encourages, and has sometimes enabled, one Englishman in reality to beat two.
The ridiculous story about the pretender being sneaked into the queen’s bed in a warming pan, despite having no basis in reality or likelihood, has hurt the cause of Jacobitism far more than anything Mr. Locke and others have written to prove the unreasonableness and absurdity of the ideas of unquestionable hereditary rights and total passive obedience. This foolish, overly optimistic belief, commonly held here, that one Englishman can take on three Frenchmen, often encourages—and sometimes has actually allowed—one Englishman to defeat two.
A Frenchman ventures, his life with alacrity ‘pour l’honneur du Roi’; were you to change the object, which he has been taught to have in view, and tell him that it was ‘pour le bien de la Patrie’, he would very probably run away. Such gross local prejudices prevail with the herd of mankind, and do not impose upon cultivated, informed, and reflecting minds. But then they are notions equally false, though not so glaringly absurd, which are entertained by people of superior and improved understandings, merely for want of the necessary pains to investigate, the proper attention to examine, and the penetration requisite to determine the truth. Those are the prejudices which I would have you guard against by a manly exertion and attention of your reasoning faculty. To mention one instance of a thousand that I could give you: It is a general prejudice, and has been propagated for these sixteen hundred years, that arts and sciences cannot flourish under an absolute government; and that genius must necessarily be cramped where freedom is restrained. This sounds plausible, but is false in fact. Mechanic arts, as agriculture, etc., will indeed be discouraged where the profits and property are, from the nature of the government, insecure. But why the despotism of a government should cramp the genius of a mathematician, an astronomer, a poet, or an orator, I confess I never could discover. It may indeed deprive the poet or the orator of the liberty of treating of certain subjects in the manner they would wish, but it leaves them subjects enough to exert genius upon, if they have it. Can an author with reason complain that he is cramped and shackled, if he is not at liberty to publish blasphemy, bawdry, or sedition? all which are equally prohibited in the freest governments, if they are wise and well regulated ones. This is the present general complaint of the French authors; but indeed chiefly of the bad ones. No wonder, say they, that England produces so many great geniuses; people there may think as they please, and publish what they think. Very true, but what hinders them from thinking as they please? If indeed they think in manner destructive of all religion, morality, or good manners, or to the disturbance of the state, an absolute government will certainly more effectually prohibit them from, or punish them for publishing such thoughts, than a free one could do. But how does that cramp the genius of an epic, dramatic, or lyric poet? or how does it corrupt the eloquence of an orator in the pulpit or at the bar? The number of good French authors, such as Corneille, Racine, Moliere, Boileau, and La Fontaine, who seemed to dispute it with the Augustan age, flourished under the despotism of Lewis XIV.; and the celebrated authors of the Augustan age did not shine till after the fetters were riveted upon the Roman people by that cruel and worthless Emperor. The revival of letters was not owing, neither, to any free government, but to the encouragement and protection of Leo X. and Francis I; the one as absolute a pope, and the other as despotic a prince, as ever reigned. Do not mistake, and imagine that while I am only exposing a prejudice, I am speaking in favor of arbitrary power; which from my soul I abhor, and look upon as a gross and criminal violation of the natural rights of mankind. Adieu.
A Frenchman will boldly risk his life "for the honor of the King"; if you were to change his focus and tell him it was "for the good of the Fatherland," he would probably run away. Such strong local prejudices exist among the masses and don’t affect educated, informed, and thoughtful individuals. However, there are also misconceptions held by more knowledgeable people, simply due to a lack of effort in exploring, examining, and seeking the truth. Those are the biases I want you to be careful of by actively engaging your reasoning skills. To give you just one of the many examples I could provide: there’s a common belief that arts and sciences can't thrive under an absolute government and that creativity must inevitably suffer when freedom is lacking. This seems reasonable but is actually false. Mechanical arts, like agriculture, may indeed struggle where profit and property are insecure due to the nature of the government. But I’ve never understood why the tyranny of a government would stifle the talent of a mathematician, astronomer, poet, or speaker. It may take away a poet's or speaker's freedom to discuss certain topics in the way they want, but there are still plenty of subjects to inspire their creativity, if they have it. Can a writer justifiably complain that they are restricted if they aren’t allowed to publish blasphemy, obscenity, or incitement? All these are forbidden in the most free governments, as long as they are wise and well-organized. This is the common complaint of French authors, primarily from the less talented ones. They wonder why England produces so many great minds; people there can think as they wish and publish what they think. That’s true, but what stops them from thinking freely? If they think in ways that undermine religion, morality, or social order, or disrupt the state, an absolute government will certainly do a better job of prohibiting or punishing such thoughts than a free one could. But how does that limit the creativity of an epic, dramatic, or lyric poet? And how does it harm the skill of a speaker in church or court? The number of great French authors, such as Corneille, Racine, Molière, Boileau, and La Fontaine, who rivaled the Augustan era, thrived under the tyranny of Louis XIV. The renowned authors of the Augustan age didn’t emerge until after the Roman people were shackled by that brutal and worthless emperor. The revival of letters wasn’t due to any free government but rather the support and protection of Leo X and Francis I, both as absolute in their roles as a pope and a prince as anyone who ever reigned. Don’t get it twisted; while I’m just highlighting a prejudice, I’m not advocating for arbitrary power, which I detest with all my heart and view as a serious violation of the natural rights of humanity. Goodbye.
LETTER LXV
LONDON, February 28, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: I was very much pleased with the account that you gave me of your reception at Berlin; but I was still better pleased with the account which Mr. Harte sent me of your manner of receiving that reception; for he says that you behaved yourself to those crowned heads with all the respect and modesty due to them; but at the same time, without being any more embarrassed than if you had been conversing with your equals. This easy respect is the perfection of good-breeding, which nothing but superior good sense, or a long usage of the world, can produce, and as in your case it could not be the latter, it is a pleasing indication to me of the former.
DEAR BOY: I was really pleased with the story you told me about your reception in Berlin; but I was even more pleased with what Mr. Harte told me about how you handled that reception. He mentioned that you treated those royals with all the respect and humility they deserve; but at the same time, you were just as relaxed as if you were talking to your peers. This relaxed respect shows true good manners, which can only come from exceptional common sense or a lot of experience with the world. Since in your case it couldn’t be the latter, it’s a delightful sign of the former.
You will now, in the course of a few months, have been rubbed at three of the considerable courts of Europe,-Berlin, Dresden, and Vienna; so that I hope you will arrive at Turin tolerably smooth and fit for the last polish. There you may get the best, there being no court I know of that forms more well-bred, and agreeable people. Remember now, that good-breeding, genteel carriage, address, and even dress (to a certain degree), are become serious objects, and deserve a part of your attention.
You will now have spent a few months getting to know three of the major courts of Europe—Berlin, Dresden, and Vienna—so I hope you arrive in Turin in pretty good shape and ready for the final touch-up. It's there that you can find the best people, as no other court I know produces more refined and pleasant individuals. Just remember that good manners, a polite demeanor, social skills, and even your clothing (to some extent) are important and deserve some of your focus.
The day, if well employed, is long enough for them all. One half of it bestowed upon your studies and your exercises, will finish your mind and your body; the remaining part of it, spent in good company, will form your manners, and complete your character. What would I not give to have you read Demosthenes critically in the morning, and understand him better than anybody; at noon, behave yourself better than any person at court; and in the evenings, trifle more agreeably than anybody in mixed companies? All this you may compass if you please; you have the means, you have the opportunities. Employ them, for God’s sake, while you may, and make yourself that all-accomplished man that I wish to have you. It entirely depends upon these two years; they are the decisive ones.
The day, if used wisely, is long enough for everything. Spend half of it on your studies and workouts to strengthen your mind and body; the other half, socializing with good company, will shape your manners and build your character. I would do anything to see you read Demosthenes thoughtfully in the morning and understand him better than anyone else; in the afternoon, conduct yourself better than anyone at court; and in the evenings, engage more enjoyably than anyone else in mixed company. You can achieve all this if you choose; you have the resources and opportunities. Use them, for goodness' sake, while you can, and become the well-rounded person I want you to be. It all hinges on these next two years; they are crucial.
I send you here inclosed a letter of recommendation to Monsieur Capello, at Venice, which you will deliver him immediately upon your arrival, accompanying it with compliments from me to him and Madame, both of whom you have seen here. He will, I am sure, be both very civil and very useful to you there, as he will also be afterward at Rome, where he is appointed to go ambassador. By the way, wherever you are, I would advise you to frequent, as much as you can, the Venetian Ministers; who are always better informed of the courts they reside at than any other minister; the strict and regular accounts, which they are obliged to give to their own government, making them very diligent and inquisitive.
I’m sending you a letter of recommendation for Monsieur Capello in Venice, which you should deliver to him as soon as you arrive, along with my regards to him and Madame, both of whom you’ve met here. I’m sure he’ll be very polite and helpful to you there, as he will be later in Rome, where he’s been appointed as ambassador. By the way, wherever you are, I recommend that you try to connect with the Venetian ministers as much as possible; they’re always better informed about the courts they’re in than any other minister, since they have to provide detailed reports to their own government, making them very diligent and curious.
You will stay at Venice as long as the Carnival lasts; for though I am impatient to have you at Turin, yet I would wish you to see thoroughly all that is to be seen at so singular a place as Venice, and at so showish a time as the Carnival. You will take also particular care to view all those meetings of the government, which strangers are allowed to see; as the Assembly of the Senate, etc., and also to inform yourself of that peculiar and intricate form of government. There are books which give an account of it, among which the best is Amelot de la Houssaye, which I would advise you to read previously; it will not only give you a general notion of that constitution, but also furnish you with materials for proper questions and oral informations upon the place, which are always the best. There are likewise many very valuable remains, in sculpture and paintings, of the best masters, which deserve your attention.
You will stay in Venice for the duration of the Carnival; even though I'm eager to have you in Turin, I want you to fully experience everything that such a unique place as Venice has to offer, especially during such a festive time as the Carnival. Please make sure to attend the government meetings that are open to visitors, like the Assembly of the Senate, and take the time to learn about their unusual and complex form of government. There are books that explain it, and the best one is Amelot de la Houssaye, which I recommend reading beforehand; it will not only give you a general understanding of their constitution but also help you come up with good questions and insights to discuss while you're there, which are always the most valuable. Additionally, there are many remarkable sculptures and paintings by the greatest masters that deserve your attention.
I suppose you will be at Vienna as soon as this letter will get thither; and I suppose, too, that I must not direct above one more to you there. After which, my next shall be directed to you at Venice, the only place where a letter will be likely to find you, till you are at Turin; but you may, and I desire that you will write to me, from the several places in your way, from whence the post goes.
I guess you'll be in Vienna as soon as this letter arrives; and I also think I shouldn't send more than one more letter to you there. After that, my next letter will go to you in Venice, the only place where it's likely to reach you until you get to Turin; but I hope you'll write to me from all the different places you stop at along the way where the post is available.
I will send you some other letters for Venice, to Vienna, or to your banker at Venice, to whom you will, upon your arrival there, send for them: For I will take care to have you so recommended from place to place, that you shall not run through them, as most of your countrymen do, without the advantage of seeing and knowing what best deserves to be seen and known; I mean the men and the manners.
I’ll send you a few more letters for Venice, Vienna, or to your banker in Venice. When you get there, you can ask for them. I’ll make sure you get good recommendations along the way, so you won't just rush through like most of your fellow countrymen do, missing out on what really deserves your attention—namely, the people and their customs.
God bless you, and make you answer my wishes: I will now say, my hopes! Adieu.
God bless you and help you fulfill my wishes: I'll now share my hopes! Goodbye.
LETTER LXVI
DEAR BOY: I direct this letter to your banker at Venice, the surest place for you to meet with it, though I suppose that it will be there some time before you; for, as your intermediate stay anywhere else will be short, and as the post from hence, in this season of easterly winds is uncertain, I direct no more letters to Vienna; where I hope both you and Mr. Harte will have received the two letters which I sent you respectively; with a letter of recommendation to Monsieur Capello, at Venice, which was inclosed in mine to you. I will suppose too, that the inland post on your side of the water has not done you justice; for I received but one single letter from you, and one from Mr. Harte, during your whole stay at Berlin; from whence I hoped for, and expected very particular accounts.
DEAR BOY: I'm sending this letter to your banker in Venice, the best place for you to receive it, even though I expect it will arrive there before you do. Since your time somewhere else will be brief and the mail from here is unpredictable this time of year with the east winds, I won’t send any more letters to Vienna. I hope both you and Mr. Harte have received the two letters I sent to each of you, along with a letter of recommendation for Monsieur Capello in Venice, which was included in mine to you. I also assume that the inland mail on your side hasn’t treated you fairly; I only got one letter from you and one from Mr. Harte during your entire stay in Berlin, from which I was hoping for much more detailed updates.
I persuade myself, that the time you stay at Venice will be properly employed, in seeing all that is to be seen in that extraordinary place: and in conversing with people who can inform you, not of the raree-shows of the town, but of the constitution of the government; for which purpose I send you the inclosed letters of recommendation from Sir James Grey, the King’s Resident at Venice, but who is now in England. These, with mine to Monsieur Capello, will carry you, if you will go, into all the best company at Venice.
I assure myself that the time you spend in Venice will be well spent, seeing everything that remarkable city has to offer and talking to people who can inform you, not just about the local attractions, but about the government's structure. To that end, I'm sending you the enclosed letters of recommendation from Sir James Grey, the King’s Resident in Venice, who is currently in England. These, along with my letter to Monsieur Capello, will grant you access to the best social circles in Venice if you decide to go.
But the important point; and the important place, is Turin; for there I propose your staying a considerable time, to pursue your studies, learn your exercises, and form your manners. I own, I am not without my anxiety for the consequence of your stay there, which must be either very good or very bad. To you it will be entirely a new scene. Wherever you have hitherto been, you have conversed, chiefly, with people wiser and discreeter than yourself; and have been equally out of the way of bad advice or bad example; but in the Academy at Turin you will probably meet with both, considering the variety of young fellows about your own age; among whom it is to be expected that some will be dissipated and idle, others vicious and profligate. I will believe, till the contrary appears, that you have sagacity enough to distinguish the good from the bad characters; and both sense and virtue enough to shun the latter, and connect yourself with the former: but however, for greater security, and for your sake alone, I must acquaint you that I have sent positive orders to Mr. Harte to carry you off, instantly, to a place which I have named to him, upon the very first symptom which he shall discover in you, of drinking, gaming, idleness, or disobedience to his orders; so that, whether Mr. Harte informs me or not of the particulars, I shall be able to judge of your conduct in general by the time of your stay at Turin. If it is short, I shall know why; and I promise you, that you shall soon find that I do; but if Mr. Harte lets you continue there, as long as I propose that you should, I shall then be convinced that you make the proper use of your time; which is the only thing I have to ask of you. One year is the most that I propose you should stay at Turin; and that year, if you employ it well, perfects you. One year more of your late application, with Mr. Harte, will complete your classical studies. You will be likewise master of your exercises in that time; and will have formed yourself so well at that court, as to be fit to appear advantageously at any other. These will be the happy effects of your year’s stay at Turin, if you behave, and apply yourself there as you have done at Leipsig; but if either ill advice, or ill example, affect and seduce you, you are ruined forever. I look upon that year as your decisive year of probation; go through it well, and you will be all accomplished, and fixed in my tenderest affection forever; but should the contagion of vice of idleness lay hold of you there, your character, your fortune, my hopes, and consequently my favor are all blasted, and you are undone. The more I love you now, from the good opinion I have of you, the greater will be my indignation if I should have reason to change it. Hitherto you have had every possible proof of my affection, because you have deserved it; but when you cease to deserve it, you may expect every possible mark of my resentment. To leave nothing doubtful upon this important point I will tell you fairly, beforehand, by what rule I shall judge of your conduct—by Mr. Harte’s accounts. He will not I am sure, nay, I will say more, he cannot be in the wrong with regard to you. He can have no other view but your good; and you will, I am sure, allow that he must be a better judge of it than you can possibly be at your age. While he is satisfied, I shall be so too; but whenever he is dissatisfied with you, I shall be much more so. If he complains, you must be guilty; and I shall not have the least regard for anything that you may allege in your own defense.
But the key point, and the key place, is Turin; because I plan for you to stay there for a significant amount of time to pursue your studies, learn your skills, and develop your character. I admit I have some anxiety about the outcome of your time there, which will either be very good or very bad. It will be a completely new experience for you. Until now, you have mostly interacted with people who are wiser and more discreet than you; and you have avoided bad advice and bad examples. However, at the Academy in Turin, you will likely encounter both, given the variety of young people your age; among them, some will be reckless and lazy, while others will be immoral and scandalous. I want to believe, until proven otherwise, that you have enough wisdom to distinguish between good and bad characters; and enough sense and virtue to avoid the latter and associate with the former. Nevertheless, for your own safety, I must inform you that I have given strict orders to Mr. Harte to take you away immediately to a place I’ve specified, at the first sign of you engaging in drinking, gambling, idleness, or disobeying his orders; so that, whether or not Mr. Harte reports the specifics to me, I will be able to evaluate your behavior based on how long you stay in Turin. If your stay is short, I will know why; and I assure you, you'll find out that I do. But if Mr. Harte allows you to stay as long as I hope you will, I will then be convinced that you are making good use of your time; which is all I ask of you. I suggest you stay in Turin for a maximum of one year; and that year, if you use it wisely, will fully develop you. One more year of your recent studies with Mr. Harte will complete your classical education. You will also master your skills in that time; and you will have refined yourself so well at that court that you will be ready to make a strong impression anywhere else. These will be the positive outcomes of your year in Turin if you behave and apply yourself as you have at Leipzig; but if you fall into bad advice or bad examples, you will be ruined forever. I see this year as your critical year of testing; if you get through it well, you will be accomplished and secured in my deepest affection forever; but if the corruption of vice or idleness takes hold of you there, your character, your fortune, my hopes, and thus my support will all be destroyed, and you will be lost. The more I love you now, based on the good opinion I have of you, the greater my disappointment will be if I have to change that view. Up until now, you have had every sign of my affection because you have earned it; but when you stop deserving it, you can expect every sign of my displeasure. To leave no ambiguity on this important matter, I will clearly tell you in advance how I will judge your behavior—by Mr. Harte’s reports. I'm sure he won’t, in fact, he can't be wrong about you. He has no other interest but your well-being; and you must agree that he is a better judge of it than you could be at your age. While he is pleased, I will be too; but as soon as he becomes unhappy with you, I will be even more so. If he complains, you must be at fault; and I won’t consider any arguments you may present in your defense.
I will now tell you what I expect and insist upon from you at Turin: First, that you pursue your classical and other studies every morning with Mr. Harte, as long and in whatever manner Mr. Harte shall be pleased to require; secondly, that you learn, uninterruptedly, your exercises of riding, dancing, and fencing; thirdly, that you make yourself master of the Italian language; and lastly, that you pass your evenings in the best company. I also require a strict conformity to the hours and rules of the Academy. If you will but finish your year in this manner at Turin, I have nothing further to ask of you; and I will give you everything that you can ask of me. You shall after that be entirely your own master; I shall think you safe; shall lay aside all authority over you, and friendship shall be our mutual and only tie. Weigh this, I beg of you, deliberately in your own mind; and consider whether the application and the degree of restraint which I require but for one year more, will not be amply repaid by all the advantages, and the perfect liberty, which you will receive at the end of it. Your own good sense will, I am sure, not allow you to hesitate one moment in your choice. God bless you! Adieu.
I want to share what I expect and insist on from you in Turin: First, you should continue your classical and other studies every morning with Mr. Harte, for as long and in whatever way Mr. Harte wants; second, you need to consistently practice your riding, dancing, and fencing; third, you should master the Italian language; and finally, you should spend your evenings in the best company. I also need strict adherence to the hours and rules of the Academy. If you can finish your year this way in Turin, I won’t ask anything more from you, and I’ll give you everything you could ask of me. After that, you’ll be completely in charge of yourself; I’ll consider you safe, step back from all authority, and friendship will be our only bond. Please think about this carefully; consider if the focus and level of discipline I’m asking for just one more year will be worth all the benefits and complete freedom you’ll gain at the end. I’m sure your own good judgment won’t let you hesitate in your decision. God bless you! Goodbye.
P. S. Sir James Grey’s letters not being yet sent to me, as I thought they would, I shall inclose them in my next, which I believe will get to Venice as soon as you.
P. S. I haven't received Sir James Grey's letters yet, like I thought I would, so I'll include them in my next message, which I believe will arrive in Venice just as quickly as yours.
LETTER LXVII
LONDON, April 12, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: I received, by the last mail, a letter from Mr. Harte, dated Prague, April the 1st, N. S., for which I desire you will return him my thanks, and assure him that I extremely approve of what he has done, and proposes eventually to do, in your way to Turin. Who would have thought you were old enough to have been so well acquainted with the heroes of the ‘Bellum Tricennale’, as to be looking out for their great-grandsons in Bohemia, with that affection with which, I am informed, you seek for the Wallsteins, the Kinskis, etc. As I cannot ascribe it to your age, I must to your consummate knowledge of history, that makes every country, and every century, as it were, your own. Seriously, I am told, that you are both very strong and very correct in history; of which I am extremely glad. This is useful knowledge.
DEAR BOY: I received a letter from Mr. Harte, dated Prague, April 1st, N. S., in the last mail, and I want you to thank him for me. Please let him know that I really approve of what he has done and what he plans to do on your way to Turin. Who would have thought you were old enough to be so well acquainted with the heroes of the ‘Bellum Tricennale’ that you’re on the lookout for their great-grandsons in Bohemia, with the affection I hear you have for the Wallsteins, the Kinskis, and so on. Since I can’t attribute this to your age, I must credit your amazing knowledge of history, which makes every country and every century feel like your own. Seriously, I’ve been told that you are both very knowledgeable and accurate in history, which makes me really happy. This is valuable knowledge.
Comte du Perron and Comte Lascaris are arrived here: the former gave me a letter from Sir Charles Williams, the latter brought me your orders. They are very pretty men, and have both knowledge and manners; which, though they always ought, seldom go together. I examined them, particularly Comte Lascaris, concerning you; their report is a very favorable one, especially on the side of knowledge; the quickness of conception which they allow you I can easily credit; but the attention which they add to it pleases me the more, as I own I expected it less. Go on in the pursuit and the increase of knowledge; nay, I am sure you will, for you now know too much to stop; and, if Mr. Harte would let you be idle, I am convinced you would not. But now that you have left Leipsig, and are entered into the great world, remember there is another object that must keep pace with, and accompany knowledge; I mean manners, politeness, and the Graces; in which Sir Charles Williams, though very much your friend, owns that you are very deficient. The manners of Leipsig must be shook off; and in that respect you must put on the new man. No scrambling at your meals, as at a German ordinary; no awkward overturns of glasses, plates, and salt-cellars; no horse play. On the contrary, a gentleness of manners, a graceful carriage, and an insinuating address, must take their place. I repeat, and shall never cease repeating to you, THE GRACES, THE GRACES.
Comte du Perron and Comte Lascaris have arrived here: the former handed me a letter from Sir Charles Williams, and the latter brought me your orders. They are both attractive men, with knowledge and good manners, which, although they should, rarely go together. I asked them about you, especially Comte Lascaris; their feedback is very positive, particularly regarding your knowledge. I can easily believe in their praise for your quick understanding, but I am even more pleased by their mention of your attention, as I didn’t expect that as much. Keep pursuing and expanding your knowledge; I’m sure you will, because you now know too much to stop. If Mr. Harte allowed you to be lazy, I believe you would not. But now that you’ve left Leipzig and entered the wider world, remember there’s another goal that should accompany your knowledge: I mean manners, politeness, and social graces. Sir Charles Williams, though a good friend of yours, admits that you lack in this area. You need to shake off the manners of Leipzig; in that regard, you must adopt a new persona. No scramming at meals like in a German tavern; no clumsy spills of drinks, plates, or salt shakers; no roughhousing. Instead, you should display gentle manners, graceful posture, and a charming way of speaking. I’ll say it again, and I’ll keep saying it: THE GRACES, THE GRACES.
I desire that as soon as ever you get to Turin you will apply yourself diligently to the Italian language; that before you leave that place, you may know it well enough to be able to speak tolerably when you get to Rome; where you will soon make yourself perfectly master of Italian, from the daily necessity you will be under of speaking it. In the mean time, I insist upon your not neglecting, much less forgetting, the German you already know; which you may not only continue but improve, by speaking it constantly to your Saxon boy, and as often as you can to the several Germans you will meet in your travels. You remember, no doubt, that you must never write to me from Turin, but in the German language and character.
I hope that as soon as you arrive in Turin, you commit yourself to learning Italian diligently; so that by the time you leave, you'll be able to speak it well enough to manage in Rome, where you'll quickly become fluent due to the daily need to use the language. In the meantime, I urge you not to neglect or forget the German you already know; you can not only maintain it but also improve by speaking it regularly with your Saxon boy and whenever you can with the various Germans you’ll meet during your travels. You surely remember that you must never write to me from Turin except in German.
I send you the inclosed letter of recommendation to Mr. Smith the King’s Consul at Venice; who can, and I daresay will, be more useful to you there than anybody. Pray make your court, and behave your best, to Monsieur and Madame Capello, who will be of great use to you at Rome. Adieu! Yours tenderly.
I’m sending you the enclosed letter of recommendation to Mr. Smith, the King’s Consul in Venice, who can, and I bet will, be more helpful to you there than anyone else. Please be sure to impress Monsieur and Madame Capello, as they will be very beneficial to you in Rome. Goodbye! Yours affectionately.
LETTER LXVIII
LONDON, April 19, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: This letter will, I believe, still find you at Venice in all the dissipation of masquerades, ridottos, operas, etc. With all my heart; they are decent evening’s amusements, and very properly succeed that serious application to which I am sure you devote your mornings. There are liberal and illiberal pleasures as well as liberal and illiberal arts: There are some pleasures that degrade a gentleman as much as some trades could do. Sottish drinking, indiscriminate gluttony, driving coaches, rustic sports, such as fox-chases, horse-races, etc., are in my opinion infinitely below the honest and industrious profession of a tailor and a shoemaker, which are said to ‘deroger’.
DEAR BOY: I believe this letter will still reach you in Venice, amidst all the fun of masquerades, dance parties, operas, etc. Enjoy it all; they are perfectly acceptable evening entertainments and nicely follow the serious work I’m sure you dedicate your mornings to. There are both high and low pleasures, just like there are high and low arts: some pleasures can degrade a gentleman just as much as certain professions can. Excessive drinking, mindless overeating, driving carriages, and country sports like fox hunting and horse racing are, in my opinion, far beneath the honest and hardworking jobs of a tailor and a cobbler, which are said to be ‘derogatory.’
As you are now in a musical country, where singing, fiddling, and piping, are not only the common topics of conversation, but almost the principal objects of attention, I cannot help cautioning you against giving in to those (I will call them illiberal) pleasures (though music is commonly reckoned one of the liberal arts) to the degree that most of your countrymen do, when they travel in Italy. If you love music, hear it; go to operas, concerts, and pay fiddlers to play to you; but I insist upon your neither piping nor fiddling yourself. It puts a gentleman in a very frivolous, contemptible light; brings him into a great deal of bad company; and takes up a great deal of time, which might be much better employed. Few things would mortify me more, than to see you bearing a part in a concert, with a fiddle under your chin, or a pipe in your mouth.
Since you’re now in a musical country where singing, fiddling, and piping are not just popular conversation topics but almost the main focus of attention, I must warn you against indulging in those (I’ll call them lowbrow) pleasures (even though music is generally considered one of the liberal arts) as much as many of your fellow countrymen do when they travel in Italy. If you love music, enjoy it; attend operas, concerts, and hire musicians to play for you; but I insist that you avoid fiddling or piping yourself. It makes a gentleman look very trivial and contemptible, leads to bad company, and takes up a lot of time that could be better spent. Few things would upset me more than to see you participating in a concert with a fiddle under your chin or a pipe in your mouth.
I have had a great deal of conversation with Comte du Perron and Comte Lascaris upon your subject: and I will tell you, very truly, what Comte du Perron (who is, in my opinion, a very pretty man) said of you: ‘Il a de l’esprit, un savoir peu commun a son age, une grande vivacite, et quand il aura pris des manieres il sera parfait; car il faut avouer qu’il sent encore le college; mars cela viendra’. I was very glad to hear, from one whom I think so good a judge, that you wanted nothing but ‘des manieres’, which I am convinced you will now soon acquire, in the company which henceforward you are likely to keep. But I must add, too, that if you should not acquire them, all the rest will be of little use to you. By ‘manieres’, I do not mean bare common civility; everybody must have that who would not be kicked out of company; but I mean engaging, insinuating, shining manners; distinguished politeness, an almost irresistible address; a superior gracefulness in all you say and do. It is this alone that can give all your other talents their full lustre and value; and, consequently, it is this which should now be thy principal object of your attention. Observe minutely, wherever you go, the allowed and established models of good-breeding, and form yourself upon them. Whatever pleases you most in others, will infallibly please others in you. I have often repeated this to you; now is your time of putting it in practice.
I’ve had quite a few conversations with Comte du Perron and Comte Lascaris about you. I’ll honestly tell you what Comte du Perron (who I think is a really handsome guy) said: ‘He’s intelligent, has uncommon knowledge for his age, is very lively, and once he develops some manners, he’ll be perfect; we must admit he still feels like he’s in college, but that will change.’ I was really glad to hear from someone I consider a good judge that you just need ‘manners,’ which I believe you’ll soon pick up in the company you’re likely to keep from now on. However, I must add that if you don’t acquire them, everything else won’t matter much. By ‘manners,’ I don’t just mean basic civility; everyone has to have that to avoid being kicked out of a gathering. I mean charming, appealing, standout manners; refined politeness, an almost irresistible way of presenting yourself; a superior gracefulness in everything you say and do. Only this can truly enhance the value of all your other talents, so it should now be your main focus. Pay close attention, wherever you go, to the accepted standards of good manners and model yourself after them. Whatever you find most appealing in others will undoubtedly be liked in you too. I’ve said this to you before; now is the time to put it into action.
Pray make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and tell him I have received his letter from Vienna of the 16th N. S., but that I shall not trouble him with an answer to it till I have received the other letter which he promises me, upon the subject of one of my last. I long to hear from him after your settlement at Turin: the months that you are to pass there will be very decisive ones for you. The exercises of the Academy, and the manners of courts must be attended to and acquired; and, at the same time, your other studies continued. I am sure you will not pass, nor desire, one single idle hour there: for I do not foresee that you can, in any part of your life, put out six months to greater interest, than those next six at Turin.
Please send my regards to Mr. Harte and let him know I got his letter from Vienna dated the 16th N. S. However, I won’t respond until I receive the other letter he promised regarding one of my recent messages. I'm eager to hear from him after your move to Turin: those months there will be crucial for you. You'll need to focus on the Academy's activities and learn the etiquette of the courts while also continuing your other studies. I’m sure you won’t waste even a single moment there because I can’t imagine a better use of six months in your life than those upcoming ones in Turin.
We will talk hereafter about your stay at Rome and in other parts of Italy. This only I will now recommend to you; which is, to extract the spirit of every place you go to. In those places which are only distinguished by classical fame, and valuable remains of antiquity, have your classics in your hand and in your head; compare the ancient geography and descriptions with the modern, and never fail to take notes. Rome will furnish you with business enough of that sort; but then it furnishes you with many other objects well deserving your attention, such as deep ecclesiastical craft and policy. Adieu.
We'll discuss your time in Rome and other parts of Italy later. For now, I recommend one thing: make sure to soak in the essence of every place you visit. In those locations known for their classical significance and valuable remains from the past, keep your classics close—both in hand and in mind. Compare the ancient geography and descriptions with what you see today, and always take notes. Rome will give you plenty to work with, but it also offers many other fascinating aspects to focus on, like its rich ecclesiastical intrigue and politics. Take care.
LETTER LXIX
LONDON, April 27, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: I have received your letter from Vienna, of the 19th N. S., which gives me great uneasiness upon Mr. Harte’s account. You and I have reason to interest ourselves very particularly in everything that relates to him. I am glad, however, that no bone is broken or dislocated; which being the case, I hope he will have been able to pursue his journey to Venice. In that supposition I direct this letter to you at Turin; where it will either find, or at least not wait very long for you, as I calculate that you will be there by the end of next month, N. S. I hope you reflect how much you have to do there, and that you are determined to employ every moment of your time accordingly. You have your classical and severer studies to continue with Mr. Harte; you have your exercises to learn; the turn and manners of a court to acquire; reserving always some time for the decent amusements and pleasures of a gentleman. You see I am never against pleasures; I loved them myself when I was of your age, and it is as reasonable that you should love them now. But I insist upon it that pleasures are very combinable with both business and studies, and have a much better relish from the mixture. The man who cannot join business and pleasure is either a formal coxcomb in the one, or a sensual beast in the other. Your evenings I therefore allot for company, assemblies, balls, and such sort of amusements, as I look upon those to be the best schools for the manners of a gentleman; which nothing can give but use, observation, and experience. You have, besides, Italian to learn, to which I desire you will diligently apply; for though French is, I believe, the language of the court at Turin, yet Italian will be very necessary for you at Rome, and in other parts of Italy; and if you are well grounded in it while you are at Turin (as you easily may, for it is a very easy language), your subsequent stay at Rome will make you perfect in it. I would also have you acquire a general notion of fortification; I mean so far as not to be ignorant of the terms, which you will often hear mentioned in company, such as ravelin, bastion; glacis, contrescarpe, etc. In order to this, I do not propose that you should make a study of fortification, as if you were to be an engineer, but a very easy way of knowing as much as you need know of them, will be to visit often the fortifications of Turin, in company with some old officer or engineer, who will show and explain to you the several works themselves; by which means you will get a clearer notion of them than if you were to see them only upon paper for seven years together. Go to originals whenever you can, and trust to copies and descriptions as little as possible. At your idle hours, while you are at Turin, pray read the history of the House of Savoy, which has produced a great many very great men. The late king, Victor Amedee, was undoubtedly one, and the present king is, in my opinion, another. In general, I believe that little princes are more likely to be great men than those whose more extensive dominions and superior strength flatter them with a security, which commonly produces negligence and indolence. A little prince, in the neighborhood of great ones, must be alert and look out sharp, if he would secure his own dominions: much more still if he would enlarge them. He must watch for conjunctures or endeavor to make them. No princes have ever possessed this art better than those of the House of Savoy; who have enlarged their dominions prodigiously within a century by profiting of conjunctures.
DEAR BOY: I got your letter from Vienna, dated the 19th N. S., and it really worries me about Mr. Harte. Both you and I have a strong reason to care about everything concerning him. I’m relieved, though, that he hasn't broken or dislocated any bones; given that, I hope he managed to continue his journey to Venice. I'm sending this letter to you in Turin, expecting it will reach you, or at least not wait long for you, since I figure you’ll be there by the end of next month, N. S. I hope you’re thinking about how much you need to accomplish there and that you’re committed to making the most of your time. You have your classical and serious studies to keep up with Mr. Harte, your exercises to learn, and you’ll need to pick up the manners and behavior of a court, while always reserving some time for the appropriate hobbies and pleasures of a gentleman. You know I'm all for having fun; I enjoyed it myself when I was your age, and it makes sense that you should enjoy it now too. But I firmly believe that pleasure can be combined with both work and study, and it’s much more enjoyable when mixed. A person who can’t blend business and pleasure is either a dull fool about one or a mindless glutton about the other. So, I suggest you use your evenings for socializing, attending gatherings, balls, and those kinds of activities, as I think they are the best places to learn the manners of a gentleman, which can only come from practice, observation, and experience. You also have Italian to learn, so I encourage you to focus on that; even though French is, I believe, the language used at the court in Turin, Italian will be quite important for you in Rome and other parts of Italy. If you get a good foundation in Italian while you're in Turin (which you easily can, since it’s a straightforward language), your time in Rome will make you fluent. I’d also like you to gain a general understanding of fortifications; I mean just enough to know the terms that you’ll often hear in conversation, like ravelin, bastion, glacis, contrescarpe, etc. I don't expect you to study fortification as if you intend to be an engineer, but an easy way to learn what you need to know is to frequently visit the fortifications in Turin with an old officer or engineer who can show and explain the various structures to you. That way, you’ll have a clearer understanding than if you just looked at them on paper for seven years. Whenever possible, go see original works and rely on copies and descriptions as little as possible. In your spare time while in Turin, please read the history of the House of Savoy, which has produced many remarkable figures. The late king, Victor Amadeus, was certainly one, and I think the current king is another. Generally speaking, I believe that smaller princes are more likely to become great men than those with larger territories and greater power, which often gives them a sense of security that leads to complacency and laziness. A small prince, near powerful neighbors, must be alert and sharp if he wants to protect his own territory, even more so if he wants to expand it. He has to look for opportunities or try to create them. No princes have mastered this skill better than those of the House of Savoy, who have greatly expanded their territories in the last century by taking advantage of such opportunities.
I send you here inclosed a letter from Comte Lascaris, who is a warm friend of yours: I desire that you will answer it very soon and cordially, and remember to make your compliments in it to Comte du Perron. A young man should never be wanting in those attentions; they cost little and bring in a great deal, by getting you people’s good word and affection. They gain the heart, to which I have always advised you to apply yourself particularly; it guides ten thousand for one that, reason influences.
I’m sending you a letter from Comte Lascaris, who is a good friend of yours. I hope you’ll reply to it soon and warmly, and remember to send your regards to Comte du Perron. A young man should always show those kinds of attentions; they don’t cost much and can lead to a lot, as they help you earn people’s goodwill and affection. They win over the heart, which I’ve always advised you to focus on, as it influences far more than reason does.
I cannot end this letter or (I believe) any other, without repeating my recommendation of THE GRACES. They are to be met with at Turin: for God’s sake, sacrifice to them, and they will be propitious. People mistake grossly, to imagine that the least awkwardness, either in matter or manner, mind or body, is an indifferent thing and not worthy of attention. It may possibly be a weakness in me, but in short we are all so made: I confess to you fairly, that when you shall come home and that I first see you, if I find you ungraceful in your address, and awkward in your person and dress, it will be impossible for me to love you half so well as I should otherwise do, let your intrinsic merit and knowledge be ever so great. If that would be your case with me, as it really would, judge how much worse it might be with others, who have not the same affection and partiality for you, and to whose hearts you must make your own way.
I can't finish this letter or (I believe) any other without recommending THE GRACES again. You can find them in Turin: for God’s sake, make an effort to connect with them, and they will be favorable. It's a big mistake to think that any awkwardness, whether in conversation or behavior, mind or body, is unimportant and not worth noticing. It might be a flaw of mine, but honestly, we’re all wired this way: I’ll be honest with you, when you come home and I first see you, if I find you lacking grace in your demeanor and awkward in your appearance and clothing, I won't be able to love you as much as I otherwise would, no matter how great your inherent qualities and knowledge are. If that would be how I feel about you, and I know it would, think about how much worse it could be for others, who don't share the same affection and favoritism for you, and to whom you’ll have to win over.
Remember to write to me constantly while you are in Italy, in the German language and character, till you can write to me in Italian; which will not be till you have been some time at Rome.
Remember to keep writing to me regularly while you’re in Italy, in German, until you can write to me in Italian; which won’t be until you’ve been in Rome for a while.
Adieu, my dear boy: may you turn out what Mr. Harte and I wish you. I must add that if you do not, it will be both your own fault and your own misfortune.
Goodbye, my dear boy: I hope you become what Mr. Harte and I want for you. I must also say that if you don’t, it will be both your own fault and your own misfortune.
LETTER LXX
LONDON, May 15, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: This letter will, I hope, find you settled to your serious studies, and your necessary exercises at Turin, after the hurry and the dissipation of the Carnival at Venice. I mean that your stay at Turin should, and I flatter myself that it will, be an useful and ornamental period of your education; but at the same time I must tell you, that all my affection for you has never yet given me so much anxiety, as that which I now feel. While you are in danger, I shall be in fear; and you are in danger at Turin. Mr. Harte will by his care arm you as well as he can against it; but your own good sense and resolution can alone make you invulnerable. I am informed, there are now many English at the Academy at Turin; and I fear those are just so many dangers for you to encounter. Who they are, I do not know; but I well know the general ill conduct, the indecent behavior, and the illiberal views, of my young countrymen. abroad; especially wherever they are in numbers together. Ill example is of itself dangerous enough; but those who give it seldom stop there; they add their infamous exhortations and invitations; and, if they fail, they have recourse to ridicule, which is harder for one of your age and inexperience to withstand than either of the former. Be upon your guard, therefore, against these batteries, which will all be played upon you. You are not sent abroad to converse with your own countrymen: among them, in general, you will get, little knowledge, no languages, and, I am sure, no manners. I desire that you will form no connections, nor (what they impudently call) friendships with these people; which are, in truth, only combinations and conspiracies against good morals and good manners. There is commonly, in young people, a facility that makes them unwilling to refuse anything that is asked of them; a ‘mauvaise honte’ that makes them ashamed to refuse; and, at the same time, an ambition of pleasing and shining in the company they keep: these several causes produce the best effect in good company, but the very worst in bad. If people had no vices but their own, few would have so many as they have. For my own part, I would sooner wear other people’s clothes than their vices; and they would sit upon me just as well. I hope you will have none; but if ever you have, I beg, at least, they may be all your own. Vices of adoption are, of all others, the most disgraceful and unpardonable. There are degrees in vices, as well as in virtues; and I must do my countrymen the justice to say, that they generally take their vices in the lower degree. Their gallantry is the infamous mean debauchery of stews, justly attended and rewarded by the loss of their health, as well as their character. Their pleasures of the table end in beastly drunkenness, low riot, broken windows, and very often (as they well deserve), broken bones. They game for the sake of the vice, not of the amusement; and therefore carry it to excess; undo, or are undone by their companions. By such conduct, and in such company abroad, they come home, the unimproved, illiberal, and ungentlemanlike creatures that one daily sees them, that is, in the park and in the streets, for one never meets them in good company; where they have neither manners to present themselves, nor merit to be received. But, with the manners of footmen and grooms, they assume their dress too; for you must have observed them in the streets here, in dirty blue frocks, with oaken sticks in their ends, and their hair greasy and unpowdered, tucked up under their hats of an enormous size. Thus finished and adorned by their travels, they become the disturbers of play-houses; they break the windows, and commonly the landlords, of the taverns where they drink; and are at once the support, the terror, and the victims, of the bawdy-houses they frequent. These poor mistaken people think they shine, and so they do indeed; but it is as putrefaction shines in the dark.
DEAR BOY: I hope this letter finds you settled into your serious studies and necessary exercises in Turin, following the excitement and distractions of Carnival in Venice. I hope that your time in Turin will be both beneficial and enriching for your education; however, I must tell you that my affection for you has never caused me as much anxiety as I feel now. While you are in danger, I will be fearful, and you are at risk in Turin. Mr. Harte will do his best to protect you, but only your own good sense and determination can truly keep you safe. I have heard that there are now many English students at the Academy in Turin, and I worry those are just more challenges for you to face. I don’t know who they are, but I am well aware of the general poor behavior, disrespectful conduct, and narrow-minded attitudes of my young countrymen abroad, especially when they are together in numbers. Bad examples are already quite dangerous; but those who set them rarely stop there—they often urge you to join in, and if that doesn’t work, they turn to ridicule, which is even harder for someone your age and inexperience to resist than the previous. So please be cautious against these pressures that will be directed at you. You are not going abroad to associate with your fellow countrymen: among them, you will gain little knowledge, no languages, and certainly no manners. I strongly advise you to avoid forming any connections or what they shamelessly call friendships with these individuals, which are, in reality, just alliances and conspiracies against good morals and manners. Young people often have a tendency to find it hard to refuse requests due to a sort of false shame, and at the same time, they have a desire to impress and stand out in their social circle. While these tendencies can work out well in good company, they can lead to the worst outcomes in bad company. If people had only their own vices, few would have as many as they do. Personally, I would rather wear someone else’s clothes than take on their vices, and those would weigh on me just as heavily. I hope you will have none at all; but if you ever do, I pray they are all your own. Adopted vices are the most shameful and unacceptable of all. Vices, like virtues, come in degrees, and I must give credit to my fellow countrymen for generally keeping their vices on the lower side. Their so-called gallantry is merely the shameful degradation of debauchery, rightly matched with the loss of both health and reputation. Their indulgences at the table lead to excessive drunkenness, rowdy behavior, broken windows, and often (as they rightly deserve), broken bones. They engage in gambling for the sake of the vice, not for enjoyment, and thus take things too far, either ruining themselves or being ruined by their companions. Through such behavior and in such company abroad, they return home as unimproved, narrow-minded, and unrefined as we see them daily, whether in parks or on the streets, since one never meets them in respectable company; they have neither the manners to present themselves nor the qualities to be received. With the manners of servants and stable hands, they also take on the appearance, which you must have noticed here in the streets—dressed in dirty blue jackets, carrying thick sticks, with greasy, unkempt hair tucked under their ridiculously large hats. This is how they emerge from their travels, becoming nuisances at theaters, breaking windows, and often causing trouble for the tavern owners where they drink; they are at once the support, terror, and victims of the brothels they frequent. These poor misguided souls think they stand out, and in a way, they do; but it’s the same way that decay glows in the dark.
I am not now preaching to you, like an old fellow, upon their religious or moral texts; I am persuaded that you do not want the best instructions of that kind: but I am advising you as a friend, as a man of the world, as one who would not have you old while you are young, but would have you to take all the pleasures that reason points out, and that decency warrants. I will therefore suppose, for argument’s sake (for upon no other account can it be supposed), that all the vices above mentioned were perfectly innocent in themselves: they would still degrade, vilify, and sink those who practiced them; would obstruct their rising in the world by debasing their characters; and give them low turn of mind, and manners absolutely inconsistent with their making any figure in upper life and great business.
I'm not here to lecture you like an old-timer on religious or moral lessons; I believe that’s not what you’re looking for. Instead, I'm giving advice as a friend, as someone who's experienced, and who wants you to enjoy your youth rather than feel old. I encourage you to seek out pleasures that are reasonable and appropriate. For the sake of this discussion, let's assume (since we can’t think otherwise) that all the vices I mentioned earlier are completely innocent in themselves. Even then, they would still lower, tarnish, and degrade those who indulge in them; they would hinder their progress by ruining their reputations and lead to a narrow mindset and behaviors that would be totally out of place for anyone trying to succeed in high society and significant endeavors.
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.
What I’ve just shared, along with your own good judgment, should be enough to protect you from the temptations, invitations, or reckless pressures from those unfortunate young people. When they try to involve you in their schemes, just give a polite but firm no; avoid debating such obvious issues. You’re too young to change them, and hopefully, too smart to be swayed by them. Stay away from them not just in reality, but also in appearance, if you want to fit in with decent company; people tend to shy away from someone who comes from a place where there’s chaos, no matter how healthy they look. There are phrases, in both French and English, and characters, in those languages and others, that have misled many young men to their downfall. “Une honnete debauche, une jolie debauche;” “An agreeable rake, a man of pleasure.” Don’t mistake this for debauchery and excess; it’s nothing like that. It refers, at most, to the occasional and mild misbehaviors of youth and enthusiasm, in contrast to dullness, stiffness, and lack of spirit. A “commerce galant,” casually formed with a fashionable woman; having a glass of wine or two too many during a fun and lively gathering; or some innocent antics that don’t hurt anyone are the limits of the enjoyable life that a sensible and decent man, who cares about his reputation, should allow himself or be allowed by others. Those who cross those boundaries in hopes of standing out fall short and end up infamous, or at least, looked down upon.
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.
The length of your stay in Turin will clearly indicate your behavior there, even if Mr. Harte doesn't. As I mentioned before, Mr. Harte has strict orders to take you away immediately at the first sign of any illness he notices. I trust him to follow those orders carefully because he is conscientious and a true friend to both of us. Additionally, I'll receive regular updates about your behavior from Comte Salmour, the Governor of the Academy, whose son is currently here and is my close friend. I also have other reliable sources of information that I won't disclose to you. However, assuming everything goes well in Turin, since I plan for you to be in Rome for the Jubilee at Christmas, I want you to focus on your dancing, fencing, and horseback riding at the Academy. This is important for your health and development and will also help you become more graceful. Don't neglect your appearance; make sure to dress well. Please find the best dentist in Turin—I assume there's a famous one there—and get your teeth in perfect shape, then take care of them yourself afterward. You had great teeth, and I hope they still look good; but even those with bad teeth should keep them clean because a dirty mouth is, in my opinion, bad manners. In short, don't overlook anything that could possibly impress others. Countless little details, which no one can easily describe but everyone notices, contribute to a pleasing overall impression. Just like how various pieces of a mosaic, individually unremarkable, combine to create beautiful designs that everyone admires. A look, a gesture, a stance, a tone of voice—all contribute to the larger picture of charm. The ability to please is especially crucial in your intended profession, perhaps more than in any other, as it’s truly half the job. If you don't make a good impression on the court you are sent to, you'll be of very little use to the court you come from. Capture their attention with your looks and your voice, and you'll gain access to their hearts; and often, the heart dictates the mind.
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.
Make your court stand out, and show special attention to those men and women who are the most respected, stylish, and well-regarded in the public eye; speak positively about them when they're not around, in front of people who will likely pass on your compliments. Express your admiration for the many great figures that the House of Savoy has produced; point out that, instead of being diminished by those efforts, nature seems to have amplified them, in the case of the current King and the Duke of Savoy; wonder, at this rate, where it will all lead, and conclude that it must end with them ruling over all of Europe. Mention this in places where it’s likely to be repeated; but do so casually, especially the last point, with a touch of playfulness. These little strategies are perfectly acceptable and should be employed in the world; they please one group, benefit another, and harm no one.
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.
What I've said about my fellow countrymen in general doesn't apply to everyone without exception; there are some who have both qualities and good behavior. Your friend, Mr. Stevens, is one of them, and I support your connection with him. You might meet others whose friendship could be very beneficial to you in the future, whether because of their exceptional talents or their status and wealth; nurture those relationships. However, I want Mr. Harte to be the one who assesses those individuals.
Adieu my dear child! Consider seriously the importance of the two next years to your character, your figure, and your fortune.
Goodbye, my dear child! Think carefully about how important the next two years are for your character, your appearance, and your future.
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.
DEAR BOY: In my last message, I suggested an innocent way to flatter others: complimenting people when they aren't around, especially in front of others who, to gain favor, are likely to pass on and even embellish the praises. This is the most enjoyable form of flattery and therefore the most effective. There are various other harmless tactics that are essential in life, and those who adopt them early will please others the most and achieve success more quickly. Young people often overlook these strategies as trivial or dismiss them as annoying. However, later experiences in life remind us of their value, often when it’s too late. Among the most important skills is mastering your temper, maintaining a calm mind, and having a serene expression that prevents us from revealing, through words, actions, or even expressions, the emotions or feelings that stir within us. Revealing these feelings gives shrewd individuals a huge advantage over us, not just in major matters but in everyday interactions. A person unable to maintain composure in the face of unpleasant comments, showing obvious anger or changing their expression, or reacting with unforeseen joy to pleasing news, is vulnerable to every clever trickster or arrogant fool. The former will provoke or please you on purpose, aiming to capture your unguarded words or reactions, which will reveal the secrets of your heart—secrets that you should guard closely and share with no one. The latter will unintentionally reveal the same secrets through their foolishness, which others will use against you. You might argue that this calmness is innate and not something we can control, and while I admit that our nature plays a role, I also assert that people often unjustly blame their nature when they fail to control their emotions. With care and effort, one can overcome this; a person can just as easily develop the habit of letting reason lead instead of giving in to their nature, as most people do. If you find yourself prone to sudden fits of emotion (as I see no difference between them and plain madness, save for how long they last), promise yourself to stay silent when such feelings arise. Resolve to keep your expression as steady and unruffled as possible; with practice, you can develop this steadiness by focusing on it. In any negotiation, I would prefer to deal with someone who has passionate emotions, as I would take care to provoke them. Through clever provocation, I would elicit impulsive and careless responses; by suggesting various possibilities, I could easily identify the truth based on the changes in their expression. “A relaxed face with a focused mind” is a very useful principle in business. It's critical in some games, like ‘Berlan Quinze,’ where someone lacking control over their temper and demeanor would inevitably lose to those who do, even if they play fairly. In business, you are always dealing with sharp operators, and you should give them no unfair advantages. You might object that I am advising you to be deceitful; I both acknowledge and defend this. It has long been said, “He who cannot disguise cannot rule.” I argue further that without some level of deceit, no business can be conducted at all. It is SIMULATION that is false, base, and immoral: that is the slyness which Lord Bacon calls crooked or left-handed wisdom, used only by those lacking true wisdom. Bacon also said that dissimulation is merely concealing our own cards, whereas simulation is used to pry into others'. Lord Bolingbroke, in his recently published “Idea of a Patriot King,” which I will send you at the next opportunity, rightly states that simulation is a STILETTO—not only unjust but illegal, and its use is rarely excusable, never justifiable. In contrast, dissimulation acts as a shield, and secrecy acts as armor; it is impossible to maintain secrecy in business without a degree of dissimulation, just as you cannot succeed in business without secrecy. He continues, stating that these two arts of dissimulation and secrecy resemble the alloy mixed with pure metal: a little is necessary and doesn't lessen the value, but exceeding that (meaning simulation and cunning) causes the currency to lose its value, and the creator its credibility.
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.
Master your emotions and your facial expressions so that no visible change shows in either, no matter what you're feeling inside. This might be tough, but it's definitely not impossible; and while a sensible person doesn’t attempt the impossible, they also don’t get discouraged by challenges. Instead, they put in more effort and focus; they persist and ultimately succeed. In any matter that wisdom advises you to pursue and that has clear benefits, let difficulties motivate you to work harder, not hold you back. If one approach doesn’t work, try another; stay active, keep going, and you will succeed. Some people need to be reasoned with, some need flattery, some need to be intimidated, and some need a little teasing to get them to agree; but generally, everyone can be persuaded in the end, as long as you approach them skillfully, manage them properly, and relentlessly target their weaknesses. You should also choose your timing wisely; everybody has their "soft moments," but those don't last all day. It would be a mistake to approach someone about a certain issue when they're preoccupied with another matter or when they're dealing with grief, anger, or any other negative emotion.
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.
To understand other people, you need to reflect on yourself; because generally, people are quite similar. Even though one person may have a particular strong desire and another a different one, their actions are largely the same. Anything that engages or disgusts, pleases or offends you in others will likely engage, disgust, please, or offend them in you, and vice versa. Pay close attention to your own thoughts, your feelings, and the various reasons that drive your decisions; by doing so, you can better understand all of humanity. For example, do you feel hurt when someone highlights their superiority over you in knowledge, skills, status, or wealth? If so, you will try hard not to make someone whose goodwill or friendship you want to feel that same superiority from you, if you happen to possess it. If annoying comments, snide remarks, or constant contradictions bother you, would you use them to win someone over or make them happy? Definitely not, and I assume you want to engage and please people in general. The desire to say something clever or witty often leads to praise from others, which causes not just those who can actually deliver such lines, but even those who think they can but can't, to make more enemies—often fierce ones—than anything else I can think of. When such things are said at your expense (and they will be sometimes), seriously consider the discomfort, anger, and resentment they provoke in you. Think about whether it’s wise to stir those same feelings in others toward you. It’s foolish to lose a friend over a joke; but in my opinion, it’s almost equally foolish to turn a neutral person into an enemy just for a clever remark. When remarks like this are directed at you, it’s best to act as if you don’t think they’re aimed at you and hide any anger you might feel inside. However, if it’s so obvious that you can’t pretend to be unaware of their meaning, you should laugh along with everyone else at your own expense; acknowledge that the comment was fair and the joke was good, and play it off with a smile. But definitely don’t retaliate in kind, as that only shows you’re hurt and reveals their victory when you could have kept it to yourself. If a remark actually damages your reputation or moral standing, there’s only one proper response to make, which I hope you never have to use.
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.
As women have some influence, and often too much, over men, your behavior toward them (I mean fashionable women, as I can't imagine you interacting with any others) deserves some consideration. They are a large and talkative group: their dislike would be more damaging than their friendship can benefit you. A general politeness and attentiveness to women is therefore established by tradition and is certainly necessary. However, when you want to particularly impress someone whose situation, interests, or connections could benefit you, you must show them special preference. Even small gestures please them, while larger ones charm them. The innocent but flattering attention toward their looks, no matter how basic, is eagerly received and appreciated. But showing a genuine interest in their intelligence, expressing a desire for their opinions, and demonstrating confidence in their moral qualities completely wins them over to your side. Nothing offends them more than a hint of the contempt they often suspect men have for their intellect; you can be sure to earn their friendship if you act as though it's worth earning. Here, sometimes a little deceit is necessary, and even pretending can be acceptable; if it makes them happy, it can be beneficial for you and harms no one.
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!
This torn sheet, which I didn’t notice when I started this, changes the appearance and shortens my letter. But that's okay; my concern for you drives me to this length. I like to think that my experiences later in life might help you at the beginning of yours, and I don’t mind putting in a lot of effort if it gives you even a small benefit. I often repeat the same things to better imprint them on your young, and I assume, still restless mind; and I’ll consider any time spent helping you use yours well as time well spent. God bless you, dear!
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.
DEAR BOY: I can't guess where this letter will reach you, but I hope it finds you well. I'm sending it to Laubach, from where I assume you've arranged to have your letters forwarded to you. I haven't heard from Mr. Harte in the last mail, and the mail that was due today hasn't arrived yet, so my information only goes as far as June 2nd, N. S., which is when I last heard from Mr. Harte. Now that I'm relaxed about your health, I'm just curious about your travels, which I hope have led you to either Inspruck or Verona, because I strongly disapprove of your plan for a long and difficult journey to Switzerland. Wherever you are, I suggest you learn as much Italian as you can before heading to Rome or Naples. Even a bit will be really useful during your travels, and picking up the grammar, which you can easily learn in two or three months, will not only help you get around but will speed up your mastery of the language when you get to places where it's commonly spoken, like 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.
If your health isn't allowing you to focus on your usual reading, I hope you'll make up for that loss through engaging and informative conversations with Mr. Harte. You might ask him to summarize the key points of Mr. Locke’s logic, give you a basic understanding of ethics, and provide a quick overview of rhetoric. Mr. Harte will be able to offer you clearer insights in just half an hour of conversation than most of the boring authors who have written on these topics could deliver 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!
I have waited so long for the mail, which I hoped would arrive, that the mail, which is just about to leave, forces me to make this letter brief. God bless you, my dear child! and bring you back to perfect health soon!
My compliments to Mr. Harte; to whose care your life is the least thing that you owe.
My compliments to Mr. Harte, to whom you owe your life at the very least.
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.
DEAR BOY: The outside of your letter from the 7th really made me happier than the inside of any other letter ever could. I got it yesterday along with one from Mr. Harts dated the 6th. They arrived just in time, as I had a bunch of doctors in my room because I was dealing with a fever for four or five days, but it’s completely gone now. Mr. Harte mentions that your lungs sometimes give you a bit of pain and that your swellings come and go, but since he doesn’t say anything about you coughing, spitting, or sweating, the doctors assume you’re free from those three concerning symptoms. They believe the pain in your lungs is just a symptom of your rheumatic condition caused by the muscle pressure that restricts the lungs' movement. Still, since the lungs are incredibly important and sensitive, they insist you drink asses’ milk twice a day and goats’ whey as often as you can; the more, the better. In your regular diet, they recommend focusing on pectorals like sago, barley, and turnips. These recommendations are just as good for rheumatic issues as they are for consumption, so I hope you’ll follow them closely. I trust you’re beyond the silly likes or dislikes that people often indulge in at the cost 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.
I support your trip to Venice just as much as I disapproved of your going to Switzerland. I assume you've arrived by now, and I'm sending this letter there based on that. However, if you find the heat too intense or the water unpleasant at this time of year, I suggest you go straight to Verona and stay there until the hot weather passes before returning 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.
The time you'll likely spend in Venice will give you the chance to master that complex and unique form of government, which few travelers really understand. Read, ask questions, and observe everything related to it. There are also many valuable remnants from ancient times and impressive works from the Antico-moderno that deserve more thoughtful attention than what your countrymen typically give them. They go to see them like they would visit lions and horse-riding kings at the Tower, just to say they've been there. I’m sure you’ll view them differently; you’ll appreciate them like you would a poem, which in many ways, they are. You'll analyze whether the sculptor has brought his stone to life, or if the painter has captured the proper emotions on canvas, representing the sentiments and passions that should define each figure. You’ll also look at whether their groups show a unity of action or a proper relationship; accuracy in dress and manners. Sculpture and painting are rightly called liberal arts; having a vivid and strong imagination, along with keen observation, is essential to excel in either. I believe this is not true for music, even though it's considered a liberal art and currently holds a higher status in Italy than the other two, which reflects the decline of that country. The Venetian school produced many great painters, like Paul Veronese, Titian, and Palma, whose remarkable works you can find in both private homes and churches. The Last Supper by Paul Veronese in the church of St. George is regarded as his masterpiece and deserves your attention, as does the famous painting of the Cornaro Family by Titian. In my view, appreciating sculpture and painting is way more fitting than having a taste for playing the fiddle or pipe, which doesn’t suit a fashionable man. The former is tied to history and poetry; the latter seems to connect only with 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.
Learn Italian as quickly as you can so you can understand it reasonably well and speak it a bit before you visit Rome and Naples. There are many good historians in that language, as well as excellent translations of ancient Greek and Latin authors, known as the Collana. However, the only two Italian poets worth getting to know are Ariosto and Tasso, and they definitely have significant 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’.
Give my regards to Mr. Harte and let him know that I’ve checked on his leg. If it’s just a sprain, he should keep a tight bandage on it for a while and not do anything else to it. Goodbye! “I wish you good health.”
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.
DEAR BOY: Now that I’m no longer worried about your health, which I hope is completely restored, and since I've heard enough about you to know I don't need to worry about your education, we can focus our future conversations on less critical topics—though still important ones. I mean things like understanding the world, proper behavior, manners, social skills, and all those so-called “little” skills that are essential for enhancing the value and appeal of greater achievements.
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.
If I had the amazing ring of Gyges that made the wearer invisible, and if I also had the magical ability, which used to be common but is now rare, to transport myself anywhere I wished, my first trip would be to Venice to spy on you without you seeing me. I would start by observing you at breakfast with Mr. Harte, paying attention to your natural and unguarded conversations with him; from that, I think I could get a good sense of your true character. How delighted I would be if I overheard you asking him insightful questions on important topics or sharing thoughtful reflections on the morning's studies or the previous day's events! Then I would follow you throughout the different social circles of the day, carefully watching how you presented yourself and interacted with people of intelligence and dignity; whether you were respectful but relaxed, modest yet confident. At the same time, I would try to understand their thoughts to see if your first impressions left a positive impact on their minds, which a certain demeanor, charm, and manners usually do. Later, I would follow you to the mixed gatherings of the evening, such as parties and dinners, to see if you mingled gracefully and elegantly, and if your good manners and politeness showcased your talents and knowledge. How I would love to hear people exclaim, 'What a charming gentleman, so stylish, relaxed, and witty!' If all these observations pleased me, I would immediately reveal myself, become visible, and embrace you; but if not, I would stay invisible, head back home, and bury my disappointment in you and the world. Unfortunately, since these supernatural powers of genies, fairies, sylphs, and gnomes have had the same fate as the oracles before them and have been absent for some time, I have to settle for Mr. Harte’s written accounts of you and the occasional reports I receive from those who have seen you. However, I think it would be beneficial for you to always imagine that I am there, watching and listening to everything you do and say.
There is a certain concurrence of various little circumstances which compose what the French call ‘l’aimable’; and which, now that you are entering into the world, you ought to make it your particular study to acquire. Without them, your learning will be pedantry, your conversation often improper, always unpleasant, and your figure, however good in itself, awkward and unengaging. A diamond, while rough, has indeed its intrinsic value; but, till polished, is of no use, and would neither be sought for nor worn. Its great lustre, it is true, proceeds from its solidity and strong cohesion of parts; but without the last polish, it would remain forever a dirty, rough mineral, in the cabinets of some few curious collectors. You have; I hope, that solidity and cohesion of parts; take now as much pains to get the lustre. Good company, if you make the right use of it, will cut you into shape, and give you the true brilliant polish. A propos of diamonds: I have sent you by Sir James Gray, the King’s Minister, who will be at Venice about the middle of September, my own diamond buckles; which are fitter for your young feet than for my old ones: they will properly adorn you; they would only expose me. If Sir James finds anybody whom he can trust, and who will be at Venice before him, he will send them by that person; but if he should not, and that you should be gone from Venice before he gets there, he will in that case give them to your banker, Monsieur Cornet, to forward to you, wherever you may then be. You are now of an age, at which the adorning your person is not only not ridiculous, but proper and becoming. Negligence would imply either an indifference about pleasing, or else an insolent security of pleasing, without using those means to which others are obliged to have recourse. A thorough cleanliness in your person is as necessary for your own health, as it is not to be offensive to other people. Washing yourself, and rubbing your body and limbs frequently with a fleshbrush, will conduce as much to health as to cleanliness. A particular attention to the cleanliness of your mouth, teeth, hands, and nails, is but common decency, in order not to offend people’s eyes and noses.
There's a particular combination of small factors that create what the French call 'l’aimable', and as you enter the world, you should focus on acquiring this quality. Without it, your knowledge will just be academic, your conversations may often be inappropriate, and while your appearance might be good in itself, it could come off as awkward and uninviting. A rough diamond has its inherent value, but until it's polished, it's practically useless and wouldn't be sought after or worn. Its impressive shine comes from its solidity and strong connection of its parts; however, without that final polish, it would remain a dull, rough stone, sitting in the collections of a few curious collectors. I hope you have that solidity and connection; now focus on gaining the shine. Good company, if used wisely, will shape you and give you that true brilliant polish. Speaking of diamonds, I sent you my diamond buckles through Sir James Gray, the King’s Minister, who will be in Venice around mid-September. They are more suited for your youthful feet than for my older ones; they will enhance your appearance, while they would only draw attention to me. If Sir James finds someone he trusts who will be in Venice before he arrives, he’ll send them with that person; but if he doesn’t, or if you leave Venice before he gets there, he’ll give them to your banker, Monsieur Cornet, to send to you wherever you are then. You’re now at an age where taking care of your appearance is not only acceptable but also appropriate. Being careless suggests either a lack of concern for pleasing others or an arrogant assumption that you will please them without putting in the effort that others must. Maintaining personal cleanliness is essential for your health and to avoid offending others. Regularly washing yourself and using a body brush will contribute significantly to both your health and cleanliness. Paying special attention to the cleanliness of your mouth, teeth, hands, and nails is just basic decency so as not to offend people’s senses.
I send you here inclosed a letter of recommendation to the Duke of Nivernois, the French Ambassador at Rome; who is, in my opinion, one of the prettiest men I ever knew in my life. I do not know a better model for you to form yourself upon; pray observe and frequent him as much as you can. He will show you what manners and graces are. I shall, by successive posts, send you more letters, both for Rome and Naples, where it will be your own fault entirely if you do not keep the very best company.
I'm enclosing a letter of recommendation for the Duke of Nivernois, the French Ambassador in Rome. In my opinion, he's one of the most charming men I've ever known. I can't think of a better role model for you; please try to spend as much time with him as you can. He'll show you what good manners and elegance are all about. I'll send you more letters in the coming days for both Rome and Naples, and it will be entirely your fault if you don't surround yourself with the best company.
As you will meet swarms of Germans wherever you go, I desire that you will constantly converse with them in their own language, which will improve you in that language, and be, at the same time, an agreeable piece of civility to them.
As you'll encounter many Germans wherever you go, I hope you'll regularly speak with them in their language, which will help you improve your skills and also be a nice gesture of politeness towards them.
Your stay in Italy will, I do not doubt, make you critically master of Italian; I know it may, if you please, for it is a very regular, and consequently a very easy language. Adieu! God bless you!
Your time in Italy will definitely help you become fluent in Italian; I know it can, if you want it to, because it's a very straightforward and therefore a very easy language. Goodbye! God bless you!
LETTER LXXV
LONDON, July 20, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: I wrote to Mr. Harte last Monday, the 17th, O. S., in answer to his letter of the 20th June, N. S., which I had received but the day before, after an interval of eight posts; during which I did not know whether you or he existed, and indeed I began to think that you did not. By that letter you ought at this time to be at Venice; where I hope you are arrived in perfect health, after the baths of Tiefler, in case you have made use of them. I hope they are not hot baths, if your lungs are still tender.
DEAR BOY: I wrote to Mr. Harte last Monday, the 17th, O. S., in response to his letter from June 20th, N. S., which I received just the day before after a long wait of eight posts; during that time, I was unsure if you or he were even alive, and I honestly started to think you weren't. According to that letter, you should currently be in Venice; I hope you've arrived there in good health, especially after the baths at Tiefler, if you decided to use them. I hope they aren’t hot baths, considering your lungs may still be sensitive.
Your friend, the Comte d’Einsiedlen, is arrived here: he has been at my door, and I have been at his; but we have not yet met. He will dine with me some day this week. Comte Lascaris inquires after you very frequently, and with great affection; pray answer the letter which I forwarded to you a great while ago from him. You may inclose your answer to me, and I will take care to give it him. Those attentions ought never to be omitted; they cost little, and please a great deal; but the neglect of them offends more than you can yet imagine. Great merit, or great failings, will make you be respected or despised; but trifles, little attentions, mere nothings, either done, or neglected, will make you either liked or disliked, in the general run of the world. Examine yourself why you like such and such people, and dislike such and such others; and you will find, that those different sentiments proceed from very slight causes. Moral virtues are the foundation of society in general, and of friendship in particular; but attentions, manners, and graces, both adorn and strengthen them. My heart is so set upon your pleasing, and consequently succeeding in the world, that possibly I have already (and probably shall again) repeat the same things over and over to you. However, to err, if I do err, on the surer side, I shall continue to communicate to you those observations upon the world which long experience has enabled me to make, and which I have generally found to hold true. Your youth and talents, armed with my experience, may go a great way; and that armor is very much at your service, if you please to wear it. I premise that it is not my imagination, but my memory, that gives you these rules: I am not writing pretty; but useful reflections. A man of sense soon discovers, because he carefully observes, where, and how long, he is welcome; and takes care to leave the company, at least as soon as he is wished out of it. Fools never perceive where they are either ill-timed or illplaced.
Your friend, the Comte d’Einsiedlen, has arrived here: he’s been at my door, and I’ve been at his; but we haven’t met yet. He will have dinner with me sometime this week. Comte Lascaris asks about you very often, and he cares for you a lot; please respond to the letter I forwarded to you from him a while ago. You can enclose your answer with me, and I’ll make sure to give it to him. Those little gestures shouldn’t be overlooked; they cost little, but they mean a lot; neglecting them offends more than you might imagine. Great qualities or significant flaws will earn you respect or disdain; but small gestures, little attentions, mere trifles—whether done or neglected—will make you either liked or disliked in the grand scheme of the world. Reflect on why you like certain people and dislike others, and you’ll find that those feelings often come from very minor reasons. Moral virtues are the foundation of society in general and of friendship in particular; however, attentions, manners, and charm both enhance and strengthen those virtues. My heart is set on you being liked and succeeding in the world, so I might have already (and likely will again) repeat the same advice to you. Still, if I do err, I will choose the safest course and continue to share with you the observations about the world that my long experience has allowed me to make, which I have generally found to be true. Your youth and talents, combined with my experience, can take you far; and that experience is readily available to you if you choose to use it. I want to clarify that it’s not my imagination, but my memory, that gives you these guidelines: I’m not writing beautifully, but sharing useful reflections. A sensible person quickly notices, by paying close attention, where and when they are welcome, and makes sure to leave the group, at least as soon as they’re wanted to go. Foolish people never realize when they are poorly timed or out of place.
I am this moment agreeably stopped, in the course of my reflections, by the arrival of Mr. Harte’s letter of the 13th July, N. S., to Mr. Grevenkop, with one inclosed for your Mamma. I find by it that many of his and your letters to me must have miscarried; for he says that I have had regular accounts of you: whereas all those accounts have been only his letter of the 6th and yours of the 7th June, N. S.; his of the 20th June, N. S., to me; and now his of the 13th July, N. S., to Mr. Grevenkop. However, since you are so well, as Mr. Harte says you are, all is well. I am extremely glad that you have no complaint upon your lungs; but I desire that you will think you have, for three or four months to come. Keep in a course of asses’ or goats’ milk, for one is as good as the other, and possibly the latter is the best; and let your common food be as pectoral as you can conveniently make it. Pray tell Mr. Harte that, according to his desire, I have wrote a letter of thanks to Mr. Firmian. I hope you write to him too, from time to time. The letters of recommendation of a man of his merit and learning will, to be sure, be of great use to you among the learned world in Italy; that is, provided you take care to keep up to the character he gives you in them; otherwise they will only add to your disgrace.
I'm currently enjoying a pause in my thoughts, thanks to receiving Mr. Harte's letter dated July 13th, N.S., addressed to Mr. Grevenkop, along with one for your mom. From it, I realize that several of his and your letters to me must have been lost, because he mentions that I've had regular updates about you. However, the only updates I've actually received are his letter from June 6th and yours from June 7th, N.S.; his letter to me from June 20th, N.S.; and now this one from July 13th, N.S. to Mr. Grevenkop. Still, since you're doing well, as Mr. Harte says, all is good. I'm very relieved to hear that you don't have any lung issues, but I'd like you to act as if you do for the next three or four months. Stick to a diet of either donkey or goat milk—both are good, and maybe the goat milk is even better—and try to make your regular meals as soothing as possible. Please let Mr. Harte know that, as he requested, I've written a thank-you letter to Mr. Firmian. I hope you also write to him occasionally. The letters of recommendation from someone of his reputation and knowledge will definitely be helpful for you in the academic circles in Italy, as long as you live up to the character he describes in them; otherwise, they could just bring you shame.
Consider that you have lost a good deal of time by your illness; fetch it up now that you are well. At present you should be a good economist of your moments, of which company and sights will claim a considerable share; so that those which remain for study must be not only attentively, but greedily employed. But indeed I do not suspect you of one single moment’s idleness in the whole day. Idleness is only the refuge of weak minds, and the holiday of fools. I do not call good company and liberal pleasures, idleness; far from it: I recommend to you a good share of both.
Consider that you've lost a lot of time due to your illness; make up for it now that you're better. Right now, you should manage your time well, as socializing and experiences will take up a significant portion of it; so the time left for studying should be used not only carefully but also eagerly. But honestly, I don’t think you’re wasting even a moment of your day. Idleness is just a refuge for weak minds and a break for fools. I don’t see good company and enjoyable activities as idleness; quite the opposite: I encourage you to embrace both.
I send you here inclosed a letter for Cardinal Alexander Albani, which you will give him, as soon as you get to Rome, and before you deliver any others; the Purple expects that preference; go next to the Duc de Nivernois, to whom you are recommended by several people at Paris, as well as by myself. Then you may carry your other letters occasionally.
I’m enclosing a letter for Cardinal Alexander Albani, which you should give him as soon as you arrive in Rome, before handing over any others; the Cardinal expects that priority. After that, go to the Duc de Nivernois, who is recommended to you by several people in Paris, including me. Then you can deliver your other letters as you see fit.
Remember to pry narrowly into every part of the government of Venice: inform yourself of the history of that republic, especially of its most remarkable eras; such as the Ligue de eambray, in 1509, by which it had like to have been destroyed; and the conspiracy formed by the Marquis de Bedmar, the Spanish Ambassador, to subject it to the Crown of Spain. The famous disputes between that republic and the Pope are worth your knowledge; and the writings of the celebrated and learned Fra Paolo di Sarpi, upon that occasion, worth your reading. It was once the greatest commercial power in Europe, and in the 14th and 15th centuries made a considerable figure; but at present its commerce is decayed, and its riches consequently decreased; and, far from meddling now with the affairs of the Continent, it owes its security to its neutrality and inefficiency; and that security will last no longer than till one of the great Powers in Europe engrosses the rest of Italy; an event which this century possibly may, but which the next probably will see.
Make sure to dig deep into every aspect of the government of Venice: educate yourself about the history of that republic, especially its most notable periods; like the League of Cambrai in 1509, which nearly led to its destruction; and the plot by the Marquis de Bedmar, the Spanish Ambassador, to bring it under the rule of the Spanish Crown. The famous conflicts between that republic and the Pope are important to know about; and the writings of the well-known and learned Fra Paolo di Sarpi regarding those matters are definitely worth reading. Venice was once the largest commercial power in Europe, making a significant impact in the 14th and 15th centuries; but now its trade has declined, leading to a drop in its wealth; and rather than getting involved in the affairs of the Continent, it now relies on its neutrality and inefficacy for security; a security that will last only until one of the major Powers in Europe takes control of the rest of Italy; an event that might happen this century, but is likely to occur in the next.
Your friend Comte d’Ensiedlen and his governor, have been with me this moment, and delivered me your letter from Berlin, of February the 28th, N. S. I like them both so well that I am glad you did; and still gladder to hear what they say of you. Go on, and continue to deserve the praises of those who deserve praises themselves. Adieu.
Your friend Comte d’Ensiedlen and his governor just visited me and handed me your letter from Berlin, dated February 28th, N.S. I really like both of them, so I'm glad you sent them. I'm even happier to hear what they say about you. Keep it up and keep earning the praise of those who are worthy of it themselves. Goodbye.
I break open this letter to acknowledge yours of the 30th June, N. S., which I have but this instant received, though thirteen days antecedent in date to Mr. Harte’s last. I never in my life heard of bathing four hours a day; and I am impatient to hear of your safe arrival at Venice, after so extraordinary an operation.
I just opened this letter to acknowledge yours from June 30th, N.S., which I just received, even though it’s thirteen days older than Mr. Harte’s last one. I’ve never heard of anyone bathing for four hours a day; I can’t wait to hear about your safe arrival in Venice after such an unusual experience.
LETTER LXXVI
LONDON, July 30, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: Mr. Harte’s letters and yours drop in upon me most irregularly; for I received, by the last post, one from Mr. Harte, of the 9th, N. S., and that which Mr. Grevenkop had received from him, the post before, was of the 13th; at last, I suppose, I shall receive them all.
DEAR BOY: Mr. Harte’s letters and yours come to me very unpredictably; I just got one from Mr. Harte dated the 9th, N. S., in the last mail, while the one Mr. Grevenkop got from him before that was dated the 13th. Eventually, I guess I’ll get them all.
I am very glad that my letter, with Dr. Shaw’s opinion, has lessened your bathing; for since I was born, I never heard of bathing four hours a-day; which would surely be too much, even in Medea’s kettle, if you wanted (as you do not yet) new boiling.
I’m really happy that my letter, along with Dr. Shaw’s advice, has reduced your bathing; because since I was born, I’ve never heard of bathing four hours a day; that would definitely be too much, even in Medea’s kettle, if you wanted (which you don’t yet) new boiling.
Though, in that letter of mine, I proposed your going to Inspruck, it was only in opposition to Lausanne, which I thought much too long and painful a journey for you; but you will have found, by my subsequent letters, that I entirely approved of Venice; where I hope you have now been some time, and which is a much better place for you to reside at, till you go to Naples, than either Tieffer or Laubach. I love capitals extremely; it is in capitals that the best company is always to be found; and consequently, the best manners to be learned. The very best provincial places have some awkwardness, that distinguish their manners from those of the metropolis. ‘A propos’ of capitals, I send you here two letters of recommendation to Naples, from Monsieur Finochetti, the Neapolitan Minister at The Hague; and in my next I shall send you two more, from the same person, to the same place.
Although I suggested in my letter that you go to Innsbruck, it was only because I thought Lausanne would be too long and difficult a trip for you. However, you may have seen from my later letters that I fully support your time in Venice. I hope you’ve been there for a while now, as it’s a much better place for you to stay before heading to Naples than either Tieffer or Laubach. I'm very fond of capitals; they always have the best company and, therefore, the best manners to learn from. Even the finest provincial areas have a certain awkwardness that sets their manners apart from those of the city. Speaking of capitals, I’m sending you two letters of recommendation to Naples from Monsieur Finochetti, the Neapolitan Minister in The Hague, and I’ll send you two more from him to the same destination in my next letter.
I have examined Comte d’Einsiedlen so narrowly concerning you, that I have extorted from him a confession that you do not care to speak German, unless to such as understand no other language. At this rate, you will never speak it well, which I am very desirous that you should do, and of which you would, in time, find the advantage. Whoever has not the command of a language, and does not speak it with facility, will always appear below himself when he converses in that language; the want of words and phrases will cramp and lame his thoughts. As you now know German enough to express yourself tolerably, speaking it very often will soon make you speak it very well: and then you will appear in it whatever you are. What with your own Saxon servant and the swarms of Germans you will meet with wherever you go, you may have opportunities of conversing in that language half the day; and I do very seriously desire that you will, or else all the pains that you have already taken about it are lost. You will remember likewise, that, till you can write in Italian, you are always to write to me in German.
I’ve looked closely into Comte d’Einsiedlen regarding you and got him to admit that you only want to speak German to people who don’t understand any other language. If you keep it up this way, you’ll never become good at it, and I really want you to, as you’ll see the benefits in time. If someone isn’t fluent in a language and struggles to speak it, they’ll always seem less capable when they try to use it; not having the right words will restrict their thoughts. Since you already know enough German to get by, talking in it often will help you become fluent, and then you’ll be able to express yourself fully. With your own Saxon servant and the many Germans you’ll encounter wherever you go, you’ll have chances to speak that language all day; I strongly encourage you to do so, or else all the effort you’ve put into it will be wasted. Also, remember that until you can write in Italian, you should always write to me in German.
Mr. Harte’s conjecture concerning your distemper seems to be a very reasonable one; it agrees entirely with mine, which is the universal rule by which every man judges of another man’s opinion. But, whatever may have been the cause of your rheumatic disorder, the effects are still to be attended to; and as there must be a remaining acrimony in your blood, you ought to have regard to that, in your common diet as well as in your medicines; both which should be of a sweetening alkaline nature, and promotive of perspiration. Rheumatic complaints are very apt to return, and those returns would be very vexatious and detrimental to you; at your age, and in your course of travels. Your time is, now particularly, inestimable; and every hour of it, at present, worth more than a year will be to you twenty years hence. You are now laying the foundation of your future character and fortune; and one single stone wanting in that foundation is of more consequence than fifty in the superstructure; which can always be mended and embellished if the foundation is solid. To carry on the metaphor of building: I would wish you to be a Corinthian edifice upon a Tuscan foundation; the latter having the utmost strength and solidity to support, and the former all possible ornaments to decorate. The Tuscan column is coarse, clumsy, and unpleasant; nobody looks at it twice; the Corinthian fluted column is beautiful and attractive; but without a solid foundation, can hardly be seen twice, because it must soon tumble down. Yours affectionately.
Mr. Harte's theory about your illness seems quite reasonable; it completely aligns with mine, which is the general rule by which people judge others’ opinions. However, regardless of the cause of your rheumatic issue, the effects still need attention. Since there must be some lingering irritants in your system, you should consider that in both your everyday diet and medications; both should be sweetening and alkaline, promoting sweating. Rheumatic problems tend to come back, and those relapses would be very frustrating and harmful for you, especially given your age and travel plans. Right now, your time is incredibly valuable; every hour you spend is worth more than a year will be to you twenty years from now. You are currently laying the groundwork for your future character and success, and missing even a single piece of that foundation is more important than fifty pieces in the structure above, which can always be repaired and improved if the foundation is solid. To continue with the building metaphor: I hope you become a Corinthian structure on a Tuscan base; the latter provides the maximum strength and stability, while the former adds all the beautiful details. The Tuscan column is rough, bulky, and unattractive; no one looks at it twice. In contrast, the fluted Corinthian column is lovely and eye-catching; however, without a strong foundation, it can hardly be admired for long, as it will surely collapse. Yours affectionately.
LETTER LXXVII
LONDON, August 7, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: By Mr. Harte’s letter to me of the 18th July N. S., which I received by the last post, I am at length informed of the particulars both of your past distemper, and of your future motions. As to the former, I am now convinced, and so is Dr. Shaw, that your lungs were only symptomatically affected; and that the rheumatic tendency is what you are chiefly now to guard against, but (for greater security) with due attention still to your lungs, as if they had been, and still were, a little affected. In either case, a cooling, pectoral regimen is equally good. By cooling, I mean cooling in its consequences, not cold to the palate; for nothing is more dangerous than very cold liquors, at the very time that one longs for them the most; which is, when one is very hot. Fruit, when full ripe, is very wholesome; but then it must be within certain bounds as to quantity; for I have known many of my countrymen die of bloody-fluxes, by indulging in too great a quantity of fruit, in those countries where, from the goodness and ripeness of it, they thought it could do them no harm. ‘Ne quid nimis’, is a most excellent rule in everything; but commonly the least observed, by people of your age, in anything.
DEAR BOY: Thanks to Mr. Harte’s letter to me dated July 18 N. S., which I received with the last post, I finally have the details regarding your recent illness and your plans moving forward. Regarding your past condition, both Dr. Shaw and I are now convinced that your lungs were only mildly affected. The main concern now is the rheumatic tendency that you need to be cautious about, but (for added safety) you should still pay attention to your lungs as if they had been, and still are, somewhat affected. In either scenario, a cooling, pectoral diet is suitable. When I say cooling, I mean that it should have a cooling effect, not necessarily be cold to taste; because very cold drinks are the most dangerous precisely when you crave them the most, which is when you feel really hot. Fully ripe fruit is very healthy, but you need to be mindful of the quantity; I’ve seen many of my countrymen suffer from bloody fluxes after overeating fruit in places where they thought it couldn’t harm them due to its quality and ripeness. “Ne quid nimis” is a great rule to follow in everything, yet it’s often the least adhered to by people your age in any matter.
As to your future motions, I am very well pleased with them, and greatly prefer your intended stay at Verona to Venice, whose almost stagnating waters must, at this time of the year, corrupt the air. Verona has a pure and clear air, and, as I am informed, a great deal of good company. Marquis Maffei, alone, would be worth going there for. You may, I think, very well leave Verona about the middle of September, when the great heats will be quite over, and then make the best of your way to Naples; where, I own, I want to have you by way of precaution (I hope it is rather over caution) in case of the last remains of a pulmonic disorder. The amphitheatre at Verona is worth your attention; as are also many buildings there and at Vicenza, of the famous Andrea Palladio, whose taste and style of buildings were truly antique. It would not be amiss, if you employed three or four days in learning the five orders of architecture, with their general proportions; and you may know all that you need know of them in that time. Palladio’s own book of architecture is the best you can make use of for that purpose, skipping over the mechanical part of it, such as the materials, the cement, etc.
Regarding your upcoming plans, I'm really pleased with them and I definitely prefer your stay in Verona over Venice, where the nearly stagnant waters must be making the air unpleasant this time of year. Verona has fresh and clear air, and I've heard there’s a lot of great company there. Just the presence of Marquis Maffei alone would make the trip worthwhile. I think you can comfortably leave Verona around mid-September, once the heat has faded, and then head to Naples; I do want you there as a precaution (I hope it’s just being overly cautious) in case the last remnants of a lung issue linger. The amphitheater in Verona is definitely worth visiting, along with several buildings in both Verona and Vicenza by the famous Andrea Palladio, whose style truly reflects ancient architecture. It wouldn’t hurt if you spent three or four days familiarizing yourself with the five architectural orders and their general proportions; you can learn everything you need to know in that time. Palladio’s own book on architecture is the best resource for this, just skip the mechanical sections about materials, cement, etc.
Mr. Harte tells me, that your acquaintance with the classics is renewed; the suspension of which has been so short, that I dare say it has produced no coldness. I hope and believe, you are now so much master of them, that two hours every day, uninterruptedly, for a year or two more, will make you perfectly so; and I think you cannot now allot them a greater share than that of your time, considering the many other things you have to learn and to do. You must know how to speak and write Italian perfectly; you must learn some logic, some geometry, and some astronomy; not to mention your exercises, where they are to be learned; and, above all, you must learn the world, which is not soon learned; and only to be learned by frequenting good and various companies.
Mr. Harte tells me that you’re back into the classics; the break was so brief that I’m sure it hasn’t made you feel distant from them. I hope and believe that you’re now so well-acquainted with them that if you dedicate two hours a day, consistently, for another year or two, you’ll master them completely. I think you can't commit any more time to them right now, given all the other things you need to learn and do. You need to be able to speak and write Italian fluently; you have to study some logic, geometry, and astronomy; not to mention the physical exercises you have to learn; and above all, you need to understand the world, which isn’t something you can grasp quickly and can only be learned by mingling with a variety of good company.
Consider, therefore, how precious every moment of time is to you now. The more you apply to your business, the more you will taste your pleasures. The exercise of the mind in the morning whets the appetite for the pleasures of the evening, as much as the exercise of the body whets the appetite for dinner. Business and pleasure, rightly understood, mutually assist each other, instead of being enemies, as silly or dull people often think them. No man tastes pleasures truly, who does not earn them by previous business, and few people do business well, who do nothing else. Remember that when I speak of pleasures, I always mean the elegant pleasures of a rational being, and, not the brutal ones of a swine. I mean ‘la bonne Chere’, short of gluttony; wine, infinitely short of drunkenness; play, without the least gaming; and gallantry without debauchery. There is a line in all these things which men of sense, for greater security, take care to keep a good deal on the right side of; for sickness, pain, contempt and infamy, lie immediately on the other side of it. Men of sense and merit, in all other respects, may have had some of these failings; but then those few examples, instead of inviting us to imitation, should only put us the more upon our guard against such weaknesses: and whoever thinks them fashionable, will not be so himself; I have often known a fashionable man have some one vice; but I never in my life knew a vicious man a fashionable man. Vice is as degrading as it is criminal. God bless you, my dear child!
Consider how valuable every moment of time is to you now. The more you focus on your work, the more you'll enjoy your pleasures. Exercising your mind in the morning sharpens your appetite for the pleasures of the evening, just like exercising your body prepares you for dinner. Business and pleasure, when understood correctly, support each other instead of being enemies, as some naive or dull people often believe. No one truly enjoys pleasures unless they’ve earned them through their work, and few people do business well if they do nothing else. When I talk about pleasures, I mean the refined pleasures of a rational being, not the crude ones of an animal. I mean 'la bonne Chere,' but not gluttony; wine, but never drunkenness; playful activities, but not gambling; and romance without debauchery. There's a boundary in all these things that sensible people avoid crossing too much, as sickness, pain, contempt, and disgrace lie just on the other side. Sensible and worthy people might make mistakes in these areas, but those few examples should make us more cautious about such weaknesses: anyone who thinks they are fashionable won’t actually be like that themselves; I’ve often seen fashionable people have one vice, but I’ve never encountered a corrupt person who was also fashionable. Vice is both degrading and criminal. God bless you, my dear child!
LETTER LXXVIII
LONDON, August 20, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: Let us resume our reflections upon men, their characters, their manners, in a word, our reflections upon the world. They may help you to form yourself, and to know others; a knowledge very useful at all ages, very rare at yours. It seems as if it were nobody’s business to communicate it to young men. Their masters teach them, singly, the languages or the sciences of their several departments; and are indeed generally incapable of teaching them the world: their parents are often so too, or at least neglect doing it, either from avocations, indifference, or from an opinion that throwing them into the world (as they call it) is the best way of teaching it them. This last notion is in a great degree true; that is, the world can doubtless never be well known by theory: practice is absolutely necessary; but surely it is of great use to a young man, before he sets out for that country full of mazes, windings, and turnings, to have at least a general map of it, made by some experienced traveler.
DEAR BOY: Let’s continue our thoughts on people, their character, their behavior—in short, our thoughts on the world. These reflections might help you shape yourself and understand others; knowledge that’s valuable at any age, but often lacking at yours. It seems like no one feels responsible for passing this wisdom to young men. Their teachers usually focus on teaching them languages or specific subjects, and often don't have the ability to teach them about life. Their parents are often just as lost or fail to do so, either because they’re busy, indifferent, or believe that just throwing them into the world (as they say) is the best approach to learning. While this idea has some truth—after all, you can’t really understand the world through theory alone; practical experience is essential—it’s incredibly helpful for a young man to have at least a general roadmap of that complicated territory before he ventures into its twists and turns, ideally provided by someone who's been there.
There is a certain dignity of manners absolutely necessary, to make even the most valuable character either respected or respectable.—[Meaning worthy of respect.]
There is a certain dignity in manners that is absolutely necessary to make even the most valuable character either respected or respectable.—[Meaning worthy of respect.]
Horse-play, romping, frequent and loud fits of laughter, jokes, waggery, and indiscriminate familiarity, will sink both merit and knowledge into a degree of contempt. They compose at most a merry fellow; and a merry fellow was never yet a respectable man. Indiscriminate familiarity either offends your superiors, or else dubbs you their dependent and led captain. It gives your inferiors just, but troublesome and improper claims of equality. A joker is near akin to a buffoon; and neither of them is the least related to wit. Whoever is admitted or sought for, in company, upon any other account than that of his merit and manners, is never respected there, but only made use of. We will have such-a-one, for he sings prettily; we will invite such-a-one to a ball, for he dances well; we will have such-a-one at supper, for he is always joking and laughing; we will ask another, because he plays deep at all games, or because he can drink a great deal. These are all vilifying distinctions, mortifying preferences, and exclude all ideas of esteem and regard. Whoever is HAD (as it is called) in company for the sake of any one thing singly, is singly that thing and will never be considered in any other light; consequently never respected, let his merits be what they will.
Horseplay, roughhousing, loud laughter, jokes, teasing, and being too familiar with everyone will diminish both your merit and knowledge, causing others to look down on you. They might make you seem like a fun person, but a fun person has never been seen as a respectable individual. Being overly familiar can either annoy your superiors or make you seem like their subordinate. It gives your inferiors a bothersome and inappropriate sense of equality. A joker is very much like a clown, and neither of them has anything to do with true wit. Anyone who is welcomed into a group for reasons other than their skills and character is never respected there but simply used. We’ll invite someone because they sing nicely; we’ll ask another to a party because they dance well; we’ll include someone else at dinner because they constantly joke and laugh; we’ll invite another person because they gamble a lot or can drink heavily. These are all degrading distinctions, disappointing preferences that leave no space for respect or admiration. Whoever is welcomed into a group just for one specific reason will only ever be seen in that light and will never gain respect, no matter their other qualities.
This dignity of manners, which I recommend so much to you, is not only as different from pride, as true courage is from blustering, or true wit from joking; but is absolutely inconsistent with it; for nothing vilifies and degrades more than pride. The pretensions of the proud man are oftener treated with sneer and contempt, than with indignation; as we offer ridiculously too little to a tradesman, who asks ridiculously too much for his goods; but we do not haggle with one who only asks a just and reasonable price.
The dignity of behavior that I highly recommend to you is not just different from pride, like true courage differs from bluster, or true wit from simple joking; it is completely incompatible with it. Nothing diminishes and degrades more than pride. The claims of a proud person are usually met with sarcasm and disdain, rather than outrage; it’s like when we offer a ridiculously low price to a vendor who is asking way too much for their goods. But we don’t try to negotiate with someone who is only asking for a fair and reasonable price.
Abject flattery and indiscriminate assentation degrade as much as indiscriminate contradiction and noisy debate disgust. But a modest assertion of one’s own opinion, and a complaisant acquiescence to other people’s, preserve dignity.
Excessive flattery and mindless agreement are just as degrading as mindless disagreement and loud arguments are off-putting. However, confidently sharing your opinion while also politely accepting others’ views maintains dignity.
Vulgar, low expressions, awkward motions and address, vilify, as they imply either a very low turn of mind, or low education and low company.
Vulgar, crude expressions, awkward gestures and speech, are demeaning, as they suggest either a very limited mindset or a lack of education and poor company.
Frivolous curiosity about trifles, and a laborious attention to little objects which neither require nor deserve a moment’s thought, lower a man; who from thence is thought (and not unjustly) incapable of greater matters. Cardinal de Retz, very sagaciously, marked out Cardinal Chigi for a little mind, from the moment that he told him he had wrote three years with the same pen, and that it was an excellent good one still.
Being overly curious about unimportant things and spending too much time on trivial matters that don't need any thought makes a person seem lesser; it's only natural for people to consider him incapable of handling more significant issues. Cardinal de Retz wisely pointed out that Cardinal Chigi had a narrow mind when he mentioned he had used the same pen for three years and that it was still a great pen.
A certain degree of exterior seriousness in looks and motions gives dignity, without excluding wit and decent cheerfulness, which are always serious themselves. A constant smirk upon the face, and a whifing activity of the body, are strong indications of futility. Whoever is in a hurry, shows that the thing he is about is too big for him. Haste and hurry are very different things.
A certain level of seriousness in appearance and actions adds dignity, without ruling out humor and a proper cheerfulness, which are often serious in their own way. A perpetual grin on someone’s face and fidgety behavior are clear signs of emptiness. Anyone who rushes shows that what they’re dealing with is too overwhelming for them. Haste and hurry are very different things.
I have only mentioned some of those things which may, and do, in the opinion of the world, lower and sink characters, in other respects valuable enough,—but I have taken no notice of those that affect and sink the moral characters. They are sufficiently obvious. A man who has patiently been kicked may as well pretend to courage, as a man blasted by vices and crimes may to dignity of any kind. But an exterior decency and dignity of manners will even keep such a man longer from sinking, than otherwise he would be: of such consequence is the [****], even though affected and put on! Pray read frequently, and with the utmost attention, nay, get by heart, if you can, that incomparable chapter in Cicero’s “Offices,” upon the [****], or the Decorum. It contains whatever is necessary for the dignity of manners.
I've only touched on a few of the things that can, in the eyes of society, tarnish and diminish the worth of otherwise valuable characters—but I haven't addressed those that impact and degrade moral character. Those are pretty clear. A man who has patiently endured abuse can no more claim to be courageous than a man consumed by vices and crimes can claim to be dignified in any way. However, outward decency and dignified behavior can keep such a man from falling as quickly as he otherwise might: that's how significant [****] is, even if it's just put on! Please read often and with great care, and if you can, memorize that outstanding chapter in Cicero’s “Offices” about [****], or Decorum. It includes everything necessary for maintaining dignity in behavior.
In my next I will send you a general map of courts; a region yet unexplored by you, but which you are one day to inhabit. The ways are generally crooked and full of turnings, sometimes strewed with flowers, sometimes choked up with briars; rotten ground and deep pits frequently lie concealed under a smooth and pleasing surface; all the paths are slippery, and every slip is dangerous. Sense and discretion must accompany you at your first setting out; but, notwithstanding those, till experience is your guide, you will every now and then step out of your way, or stumble.
In my next message, I'll send you a general map of courts—a place you haven't explored yet, but will one day come to know. The paths are usually winding and full of twists and turns, sometimes lined with flowers, other times blocked by thorns; rotten ground and deep pits often hide beneath a smooth and inviting surface. All the trails are slippery, and any misstep can be risky. Common sense and caution need to be with you from the start; however, until you gain experience, you’ll occasionally stray off track or trip up.
Lady Chesterfield has just now received your German letter, for which she thanks you; she says the language is very correct; and I can plainly see that the character is well formed, not to say better than your English character. Continue to write German frequently, that it may become quite familiar to you. Adieu.
Lady Chesterfield has just received your German letter, for which she thanks you; she says the language is very correct, and I can clearly see that the handwriting is well formed, even better than your English handwriting. Keep writing in German often so it becomes familiar to you. Goodbye.
LETTER LXXIX
LONDON, August 21, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: By the last letter that I received from Mr. Harte, of the 31st July, N. S., I suppose you are now either at Venice or Verona, and perfectly re covered of your late illness: which I am daily more and more convinced had no consumptive tendency; however, for some time still, ‘faites comme s’il y en avoit’, be regular, and live pectorally.
DEAR BOY: From the last letter I got from Mr. Harte on July 31st, N. S., I assume you’re now either in Venice or Verona and have fully recovered from your recent illness. I'm increasingly convinced that it wasn’t related to consumption. However, for a little while longer, act as if it was, be consistent, and take care of your lungs.
You will soon be at courts, where, though you will not be concerned, yet reflection and observation upon what you see and hear there may be of use to you, when hereafter you may come to be concerned in courts yourself. Nothing in courts is exactly as it appears to be; often very different; sometimes directly contrary. Interest, which is the real spring of everything there, equally creates and dissolves friendship, produces and reconciles enmities: or, rather, allows of neither real friendships nor enmities; for, as Dryden very justly observes, POLITICIANS NEITHER LOVE NOR HATE. This is so true, that you may think you connect yourself with two friends to-day, and be obliged tomorrow to make your option between them as enemies; observe, therefore, such a degree of reserve with your friends as not to put yourself in their power, if they should become your enemies; and such a degree of moderation with your enemies, as not to make it impossible for them to become your friends.
You’ll soon be at courts where, even if you’re not directly involved, paying attention to what you see and hear might be useful for you when you eventually find yourself in court. Nothing in courts is exactly as it appears; it’s often very different and sometimes completely the opposite. Interests, which drive everything there, create and dissolve friendships, and produce and resolve conflicts. Or rather, they don’t allow for real friendships or conflicts; as Dryden aptly points out, POLITICIANS NEITHER LOVE NOR HATE. This is so true that you might feel connected to two friends today, only to find yourself having to choose between them as enemies tomorrow. Therefore, maintain a level of caution with your friends so that you don’t become vulnerable if they turn against you, and keep a moderate approach with your enemies to leave the door open for them to become your friends.
Courts are, unquestionably, the seats of politeness and good-breeding; were they not so, they would be the seats of slaughter and desolation. Those who now smile upon and embrace, would affront and stab each other, if manners did not interpose; but ambition and avarice, the two prevailing passions at courts, found dissimulation more effectual than violence; and dissimulation introduced that habit of politeness, which distinguishes the courtier from the country gentleman. In the former case the strongest body would prevail; in the latter, the strongest mind.
Courts are definitely places of politeness and good manners; if they weren't, they would be places of violence and ruin. Those who now smile and embrace each other would confront and harm one another if etiquette didn't step in. However, ambition and greed, the two main passions in courts, found that pretending to be nice worked better than being violent; and this pretense led to the politeness that sets courtiers apart from country gentlemen. In the first scenario, the strongest physical presence would win; in the second, the strongest intellect would prevail.
A man of parts and efficiency need not flatter everybody at court; but he must take great care to offend nobody personally; it being in the power of every man to hurt him, who cannot serve him. Homer supposes a chain let down from Jupiter to the earth, to connect him with mortals. There is, at all courts, a chain which connects the prince or the minister with the page of the back stairs, or the chamber-maid. The king’s wife, or mistress, has an influence over him; a lover has an influence over her; the chambermaid, or the valet de chambre, has an influence over both, and so ad infinitum. You must, therefore, not break a link of that chain, by which you hope to climb up to the prince.
A skilled and efficient person doesn’t need to flatter everyone at court, but they must be careful not to personally offend anyone, as anyone has the power to hurt them if they can't help. Homer suggests there’s a chain linking Jupiter to mortals. Similarly, at every court, there’s a chain connecting the prince or minister to the page in the back hall or the chambermaid. The king’s wife or mistress influences him; a lover influences her; the chambermaid or the valet influences both, and so on endlessly. Therefore, you must not break a link in that chain if you hope to rise to the prince's favor.
You must renounce courts if you will not connive at knaves, and tolerate fools. Their number makes them considerable. You should as little quarrel as connect yourself with either.
You need to reject the courts if you're not going to turn a blind eye to tricksters and put up with idiots. The sheer number of them makes them influential. You should avoid getting into conflicts with or associating yourself with either group.
Whatever you say or do at court, you may depend upon it, will be known; the business of most of those, who crowd levees and antichambers, being to repeat all that they see or hear, and a great deal that they neither see nor hear, according as they are inclined to the persons concerned, or according to the wishes of those to whom they hope to make their court. Great caution is therefore necessary; and if, to great caution, you can join seeming frankness and openness, you will unite what Machiavel reckons very difficult but very necessary to be united; ‘volto sciolto e pensieri stretti’.
Whatever you say or do in court, you can be sure it will be known; most people who fill the waiting rooms and hallways are there to share everything they see or hear, along with a lot they don’t see or hear, depending on their feelings toward the people involved, or based on what those they want to impress might want. So, you need to be very cautious; and if you can pair that caution with a facade of openness and honesty, you'll combine what Machiavelli considers very hard but essential to balance: 'a relaxed face and tight thoughts.'
Women are very apt to be mingled in court intrigues; but they deserve attention better than confidence; to hold by them is a very precarious tenure.
Women are often involved in court intrigues, but they deserve attention more than trust; relying on them is a very uncertain situation.
I am agreeably interrupted in these reflections by a letter which I have this moment received from Baron Firmian. It contains your panegyric, and with the strongest protestations imaginable that he does you only justice. I received this favorable account of you with pleasure, and I communicate it to you with as much. While you deserve praise, it is reasonable you should know that you meet with it; and I make no doubt, but that it will encourage you in persevering to deserve it. This is one paragraph of the Baron’s letter: Ses moeurs dans un age si tendre, reglees selon toutes les loix d’une morale exacte et sensee; son application (that is what I like) a tout ce qui s’appelle etude serieuse, et Belles Lettres,—“Notwithstanding his great youth, his manners are regulated by the most unexceptionable rules of sense and of morality. His application THAT IS WHAT I LIKE to every kind of serious study, as well as to polite literature, without even the least appearance of ostentatious pedantry, render him worthy of your most tender affection; and I have the honor of assuring you, that everyone cannot but be pleased with the acquisition of his acquaintance or of his friendship. I have profited of it, both here and at Vienna; and shall esteem myself very happy to make use of the permission he has given me of continuing it by letter.” Reputation, like health, is preserved and increased by the same means by which it is acquired. Continue to desire and deserve praise, and you will certainly find it. Knowledge, adorned by manners, will infallibly procure it. Consider, that you have but a little way further to get to your journey’s end; therefore, for God’s sake, do not slacken your pace; one year and a half more of sound application, Mr. Harte assures me, will finish this work; and when this work is finished well, your own will be very easily done afterward. ‘Les Manieres et les Graces’ are no immaterial parts of that work; and I beg that you will give as much of your attention to them as to your books. Everything depends upon them; ‘senza di noi ogni fatica e vana’. The various companies you now go into will procure them you, if you will carefully observe, and form yourself upon those who have them.
I’m pleasantly interrupted in my thoughts by a letter I just received from Baron Firmian. It praises you and comes with the strongest assurances that he is only doing you justice. I received this positive account of you with joy, and I’m sharing it with you with the same pleasure. While you deserve recognition, it’s only fair that you know it; and I have no doubt that it will motivate you to keep deserving it. Here’s a section from the Baron’s letter: *Ses moeurs dans un age si tendre, reglees selon toutes les loix d’une morale exacte et sensee; son application (that is what I like) a tout ce qui s’appelle etude serieuse, et Belles Lettres,*—“Despite his young age, his behavior is governed by the finest standards of sense and morality. His dedication—THAT IS WHAT I LIKE—to all kinds of serious study and polite literature, without any hint of showy pedantry, makes him worthy of your deepest affection; and it’s my honor to assure you that everyone will be pleased to have him as a friend. I’ve benefited from his company, both here and in Vienna, and I’m very glad to be able to keep in touch with him by letter.” Reputation, like health, is maintained and grown in the same way it's achieved. Keep wanting and deserving praise, and you will surely find it. Knowledge, coupled with good manners, will definitely bring you recognition. Remember, you’re just a little distance from your goal; so for goodness' sake, don’t slow down. Mr. Harte assures me that one more year and a half of solid effort will complete this task; and once this task is successfully finished, your own will follow very easily. *Les Manieres et les Graces* are important parts of that task, and I urge you to give as much attention to them as you do to your studies. Everything hinges on them; *senza di noi ogni fatica e vana*. The different groups you’re currently engaging with will help you develop these qualities if you pay close attention and learn from those who possess them.
Adieu! God bless you! and may you ever deserve that affection with which I am now, Yours.
Goodbye! God bless you! And may you always earn the love I have for you, which I am now expressing.
LETTER LXXX
LONDON, September 5, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: I have received yours from Laubach, of the 17th of August, N. S., with the inclosed for Comte Lascaris; which I have given him, and with which he is extremely pleased, as I am with your account of Carniola. I am very glad that you attend to, and inform yourself of, the political objects of the country you go through. Trade and manufactures are very considerable, not to say the most important ones; for, though armies and navies are the shining marks of the strength of countries, they would be very ill paid, and consequently fight very ill, if manufactures and commerce did not support them. You have certainly observed in Germany the inefficiency of great powers, with great tracts of country and swarms of men; which are absolutely useless, if not paid by other powers who have the resources of manufactures and commerce. This we have lately experienced to be the case of the two empresses of Germany and Russia: England, France, and Spain, must pay their respective allies, or they may as well be without them.
DEAR BOY: I got your letter from Laubach dated August 17th, N.S., along with the enclosed note for Comte Lascaris. I've given it to him, and he is very pleased with it, just as I am with your update on Carniola. I'm really glad to see that you pay attention to and learn about the political matters in the countries you visit. Trade and manufacturing are very significant, if not the most important, aspects; because while armies and navies are the obvious symbols of a nation's strength, they wouldn't be properly funded and therefore wouldn't perform well without the support of manufacturing and commerce. You've surely noticed in Germany how ineffective large powers can be, even with vast territories and plenty of people, if they’re not backed by other nations that have strong manufacturing and commerce resources. We’ve seen this recently with the two empresses of Germany and Russia: England, France, and Spain have to financially support their respective allies, or they might as well not have them at all.
I have not the least objection to your taking, into the bargain, the observation of natural curiosities; they are very welcome, provided they do not take up the room of better things. But the forms of government, the maxims of policy, the strength or weakness, the trade and commerce, of the several countries you see or hear of are the important objects, which I recommend to your most minute inquiries, and most serious attention. I thought that the republic of Venice had by this time laid aside that silly and frivolous piece of policy, of endeavoring to conceal their form of government; which anybody may know, pretty nearly, by taking the pains to read four or five books, which explain all the great parts of it; and as for some of the little wheels of that machine, the knowledge of them would be as little useful to others as dangerous to themselves. Their best policy (I can tell them) is to keep quiet, and to offend no one great power, by joining with another. Their escape, after the Ligue of Cambray, should prove a useful lesson to them.
I have no objection to you also observing natural curiosities; they are welcome, as long as they don’t take the place of more important things. But the forms of government, the principles of policy, and the strength or weakness of trade and commerce in the various countries you see or hear about are what I really recommend you investigate in detail and with serious attention. I thought that the Republic of Venice had by now given up that foolish and trivial policy of trying to hide their form of government; anyone can figure it out pretty much by taking the time to read four or five books that explain the main aspects of it. As for some of the smaller parts of that system, knowing them would be more harmful to themselves than helpful to others. Their best strategy (I can tell them) is to stay low-key and avoid offending any major power by aligning themselves with another. Their survival after the League of Cambrai should be a valuable lesson for them.
I am glad you frequent the assemblies at Venice. Have you seen Monsieur and Madame Capello, and how did they receive you? Let me know who are the ladies whose houses you frequent the most. Have you seen the Comptesse d’Orselska, Princess of Holstein? Is Comte Algarotti, who was the TENANT there, at Venice?
I’m glad you go to the gatherings in Venice. Have you met Monsieur and Madame Capello, and how did they treat you? Let me know which ladies’ houses you visit the most. Have you seen the Countess d’Orselska, Princess of Holstein? Is Count Algarotti, who used to stay there, in Venice?
You will, in many parts of Italy, meet with numbers of the Pretender’s people (English, Scotch, and Irish fugitives), especially at Rome; probably the Pretender himself. It is none of your business to declare war to these people, as little as it is your interest, or, I hope, your inclination, to connect yourself with them; and therefore I recommend to you a perfect neutrality. Avoid them as much as you can with decency and good manners; but when you cannot, avoid any political conversation or debates with them; tell them that you do not concern yourself with political matters: that you are neither maker nor a deposer of kings; that when you left England, you left a king in it, and have not since heard either of his death, or of any revolution that has happened; and that you take kings and kingdoms as you find them; but enter no further into matters with them, which can be of no use, and might bring on heats and quarrels. When you speak of the old Pretender, you will call him only the Chevalier de St. George;—but mention him as seldom as possible. Should he chance to speak to you at any assembly (as, I am told, he sometimes does to the English), be sure that you seem not to know him; and answer him civilly, but always either in French or in Italian; and give him, in the former, the appellation of Monsieur, and in the latter, of Signore. Should you meet with the Cardinal of York, you will be under no difficulty; for he has, as Cardinal, an undoubted right to ‘Eminenza’. Upon the whole, see any of those people as little as possible; when you do see them, be civil to them, upon the footing of strangers; but never be drawn into any altercations with them about the imaginary right of their king, as they call him.
In many parts of Italy, you'll encounter a lot of the Pretender’s supporters (English, Scottish, and Irish refugees), especially in Rome; you might even meet the Pretender himself. It’s really not your business to start any conflict with these people, just as it’s not in your interest, and I hope not in your nature, to associate with them. So, I advise you to stay neutral. Avoid them as much as you can while still being polite; but if you can’t, steer clear of any political discussions or debates. Just tell them you don’t get involved with politics: you’re not in charge of choosing or removing kings; when you left England, there was still a king, and you haven’t heard of his death or any revolutions since then. You take kings and kingdoms as you find them, but don’t engage any further in discussions that won’t be useful and might lead to arguments. When you refer to the old Pretender, just call him the Chevalier de St. George, and try to mention him as little as possible. If he happens to speak to you at any gathering (as I’m told he sometimes does with the English), make sure to act like you don’t know him and respond politely, but always in either French or Italian; call him Monsieur in French and Signore in Italian. If you happen to encounter the Cardinal of York, you’ll have no issues there, since he has every right to be called ‘Eminenza’ as a Cardinal. Overall, see any of those people as little as possible; when you do, be courteous to them as you would to strangers, but never get drawn into arguments about their so-called king’s imaginary rights.
It is to no sort of purpose to talk to those people of the natural rights of mankind, and the particular constitution of this country. Blinded by prejudices, soured by misfortunes, and tempted by their necessities, they are as incapable of reasoning rightly, as they have hitherto been of acting wisely. The late Lord Pembroke never would know anything that he had not a mind to know; and, in this case, I advise you to follow his example. Never know either the father or the two sons, any otherwise than as foreigners; and so, not knowing their pretensions, you have no occasion to dispute them.
There's no point in discussing the natural rights of mankind and the specific constitution of this country with those people. Blinded by prejudices, weighed down by hardships, and driven by their needs, they can't reason correctly any more than they have managed to act wisely so far. The late Lord Pembroke only acknowledged what he wanted to know, and in this case, I suggest you do the same. Don't engage with the father or the two sons in any way other than as outsiders; that way, since you don't know their claims, you won't need to argue about them.
I can never help recommending to you the utmost attention and care, to acquire ‘les Manieres, la Tournure, et les Graces, d’un galant homme, et d’un homme de cour’. They should appear in every look, in every action; in your address, and even in your dress, if you would either please or rise in the world. That you may do both (and both are in your power) is most ardently wished you, by Yours.
I can’t recommend enough that you pay close attention and take great care to develop "the manners, style, and grace of a gentleman and a man of the court." These qualities should show in every look and action, in how you speak, and even in your clothing, if you want to please others or advance in life. I sincerely wish for you to achieve both, as they are within your control.
P. S. I made Comte Lascaris show me your letter, which I liked very well; the style was easy and natural, and the French pretty correct. There were so few faults in the orthography, that a little more observation of the best French authors would make you a correct master of that necessary language.
P. S. I asked Comte Lascaris to show me your letter, which I really liked; the writing was easy and natural, and the French was pretty accurate. There were so few mistakes in the spelling that a bit more reading of the best French authors would make you proficient in that essential language.
I will not conceal from you, that I have lately had extraordinary good accounts of you, from an unexpected and judicious person, who promises me that, with a little more of the world, your manners and address will equal your knowledge. This is the more pleasing to me, as those were the two articles of which I was the most doubtful. These commendations will not, I am persuaded, make you vain and coxcomical, but only encourage you to go on in the right way.
I won’t hide from you that I've recently heard some extraordinary things about you from an unexpected and insightful person. They assure me that with just a bit more experience in the world, your manners and social skills will match your knowledge. This is especially reassuring for me since those were the two areas I was most uncertain about. I’m confident that these compliments won’t make you arrogant or pompous, but instead motivate you to continue on the right path.
LETTER LXXXI
LONDON, September 12, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: It seems extraordinary, but it is very true, that my anxiety for you increases in proportion to the good accounts which I receive of you from all hands. I promise myself so much from you, that I dread the least disappointment. You are now so near the port, which I have so long wished and labored to bring you safe into, that my concern would be doubled, should you be shipwrecked within sight of it. The object, therefore, of this letter is (laying aside all the authority of a parent) to conjure you as a friend, by the affection you have for me (and surely you have reason to have some), and by the regard you have for yourself, to go on, with assiduity and attention, to complete that work which, of late, you have carried on so well, and which is now so near being finished. My wishes and my plan were to make you shine and distinguish yourself equally in the learned and the polite world. Few have been able to do it. Deep learning is generally tainted with pedantry, or at least unadorned by manners: as, on the other hand, polite manners and the turn of the world are too often unsupported by knowledge, and consequently end contemptibly, in the frivolous dissipation of drawing-rooms and ruelles. You are now got over the dry and difficult parts of learning; what remains requires much more time than trouble. You have lost time by your illness; you must regain it now or never. I therefore most earnestly desire, for your own sake, that for these next six months, at least six hours every morning, uninterruptedly, may be inviolably sacred to your studies with Mr. Harte. I do not know whether he will require so much; but I know that I do, and hope you will, and consequently prevail with him to give you that time; I own it is a good deal: but when both you and he consider that the work will be so much better, and so much sooner done, by such an assiduous and continued application, you will, neither of you, think it too much, and each will find his account in it. So much for the mornings, which from your own good sense, and Mr. Harte’s tenderness and care of you, will, I am sure, be thus well employed. It is not only reasonable, but useful too, that your evenings should be devoted to amusements and pleasures: and therefore I not only allow, but recommend, that they should be employed at assemblies, balls, SPECTACLES, and in the best companies; with this restriction only, that the consequences of the evening’s diversions may not break in upon the morning’s studies, by breakfastings, visits, and idle parties into the country. At your age, you need not be ashamed, when any of these morning parties are proposed, to say that you must beg to be excused, for you are obliged to devote your mornings to Mr. Harte; that I will have it so; and that you dare not do otherwise. Lay it all upon me; though I am persuaded it will be as much your own inclination as it is mine. But those frivolous, idle people, whose time hangs upon their own hands, and who desire to make others lose theirs too, are not to be reasoned with: and indeed it would be doing them too much honor. The shortest civil answers are the best; I CANNOT, I DARE NOT, instead of I WILL NOT; for if you were to enter with them into the necessity of study end the usefulness of knowledge, it would only furnish them with matter for silly jests; which, though I would not have you mind, I would not have you invite. I will suppose you at Rome studying six hours uninterruptedly with Mr. Harte, every morning, and passing your evenings with the best company of Rome, observing their manners and forming your own; and I will suppose a number of idle, sauntering, illiterate English, as there commonly is there, living entirely with one another, supping, drinking, and sitting up late at each other’s lodgings; commonly in riots and scrapes when drunk, and never in good company when sober. I will take one of these pretty fellows, and give you the dialogue between him and yourself; such as, I dare say, it will be on his side; and such as, I hope, it will be on yours:—
DEAR BOY: It seems incredible, but it's true that my concern for you actually grows with the positive news I hear about you from everywhere. I have such high hopes for you that I fear any disappointment. You’re so close to the destination I’ve longed for you to reach safely that my worry would be even greater if you were to fail right before arriving. The purpose of this letter, therefore, is to urge you—as a friend, setting aside my role as your parent—by the love you have for me (and you have good reason to feel it) and by the respect you have for yourself, to keep working diligently and attentively to finish what you've been doing so well lately, and which is now so nearly complete. My wish has always been for you to shine and stand out equally in both the academic and social worlds. Few have managed to achieve that. Deep knowledge often seems pretentious, or at least lacks social grace; conversely, social skills and charm often lack depth of knowledge and end up as trivial pursuits in drawing-rooms and social circles. You've already gotten past the dry and hard parts of your studies; what’s left will take more time than effort. You've lost time due to your illness; you must make it up now or never. I strongly wish, for your own benefit, that you set aside at least six uninterrupted hours every morning for the next six months for your studies with Mr. Harte. I don’t know if he will require so much time, but I know that I do, and I hope you will too, so that you can encourage him to give you that time. I admit it’s quite a lot, but when both you and he recognize that this approach will lead to better and faster results, neither of you will think it’s too much, and each of you will find value in it. That covers your mornings, which I’m sure will be well spent given your good sense and Mr. Harte's care for you. It's reasonable and beneficial for your evenings to be dedicated to fun and enjoyment, so I not only allow but encourage you to engage in social activities, balls, SPECTACLES, and the best company; with only one caveat: that the outcomes of your evening activities don’t interfere with your morning studies due to late breakfasts, visits, or lazy outings into the countryside. At your age, you shouldn’t hesitate to politely decline any morning invitations by stating that you must be excused because you need to dedicate your mornings to Mr. Harte; that I'm insisting on it; and that you can't do otherwise. Put it all on me; even though I'm sure it will align with your own preferences as much as mine. But those frivolous people who waste their own time and want to drag others down with them can’t be reasoned with; in fact, it's too much of a compliment to even try. The shortest courteous responses are the best: I CANNOT, I DARE NOT, rather than I WILL NOT; because if you engage them about the necessity of studying and the value of knowledge, it will just give them material for silly jokes, which I wouldn’t want you to ignore, but I also don’t want you to provoke. I picture you in Rome, studying six uninterrupted hours every morning with Mr. Harte while spending your evenings among the finest company of Rome, observing their manners and shaping your own; and I imagine a crowd of lazy, wandering, uneducated English people—as is often the case—hanging out with one another, dining, drinking, and staying up late at each other's lodgings, usually getting into trouble when drinking, and never being in good company when sober. I will take one of these characters and present a dialogue between him and you; I can assume it will go like this on his side, and this way on yours:—
Englishman. Will you come and breakfast with me tomorrow? there will be four or five of our countrymen; we have provided chaises, and we will drive somewhere out of town after breakfast.
Englishman. Will you join me for breakfast tomorrow? There will be four or five of our fellow countrymen; we've arranged for carriages, and we'll head out of town after breakfast.
Stanhope. I am very sorry I cannot; but I am obliged to be at home all morning.
Stanhope. I'm really sorry, but I can't; I have to stay at home all morning.
Englishman. Why, then, we will come and breakfast with you.
Englishman. Why, then, we will come and have breakfast with you.
Stanhope. I can’t do that neither; I am engaged.
Stanhope. I can't do that either; I'm busy.
Englishman. Well, then, let it be the next day.
Englishman. Alright, then, let's make it tomorrow.
Stanhope. To tell you the truth, it can be no day in the morning; for I neither go out, nor see anybody at home before twelve.
Stanhope. Honestly, it won’t be any time in the morning for me; I don’t go out or see anyone at home before noon.
Englishman. And what the devil do you do with yourself till twelve o’clock?
Englishman. And what on earth do you do until twelve o'clock?
Stanhope. I am not by myself; I am with Mr. Harte.
Stanhope. I'm not alone; I'm with Mr. Harte.
Englishman. Then what the devil do you do with him?
Englishman. So what the heck do you do with him?
Stanhope. We study different things; we read, we converse.
Stanhope. We learn about different topics; we read, we chat.
Englishman. Very pretty amusement indeed! Are you to take orders then?
Englishman. What a delightful pastime indeed! Are you going to take orders then?
Stanhope. Yes, my father’s orders, I believe I must take.
Stanhope. Yeah, I guess I have to follow my father's orders.
Englishman. Why hast thou no more spirit, than to mind an old fellow a thousand miles off?
Englishman. Why do you have no more energy than to think about an old guy a thousand miles away?
Stanhope. If I don’t mind his orders he won’t mind my draughts.
Stanhope. If I ignore his orders, he won’t care about my drafts.
Englishman. What, does the old prig threaten then? threatened folks live long; never mind threats.
Englishman. What, is the old fool making threats? People who threaten others tend to live long; don’t pay any attention to threats.
Stanhope. No, I can’t say that he has ever threatened me in his life; but I believe I had best not provoke him.
Stanhope. No, I can’t say that he has ever threatened me in his life; but I think it’s best not to provoke him.
Englishman. Pooh! you would have one angry letter from the old fellow, and there would be an end of it.
Englishman. Pooh! You would get one furious letter from the old guy, and that would be the end of it.
Stanhope. You mistake him mightily; he always does more than he says. He has never been angry with me yet, that I remember, in his life; but if I were to provoke him, I am sure he would never forgive me; he would be coolly immovable, and I might beg and pray, and write my heart out to no purpose.
Stanhope. You're seriously misunderstanding him; he always does more than he lets on. As far as I remember, he's never been angry with me in his life, but if I were to push him, I'm certain he wouldn't forgive me. He'd be completely unyielding, and I could beg and plead and pour my heart out, and it would be useless.
Englishman. Why, then, he is an old dog, that’s all I can say; and pray are you to obey your dry-nurse too, this same, and what’s his name—Mr. Harte?
Englishman. Well, he’s just an old dog, that’s all I can say; and are you really going to listen to your caretaker too, this guy—Mr. Harte?
Stanhope. Yes.
Stanhope. Yeah.
Englishman. So he stuffs you all morning with Greek, and Latin, and Logic, and all that. Egad I have a dry-nurse too, but I never looked into a book with him in my life; I have not so much as seen the face of him this week, and don’t care a louse if I never see it again.
Englishman. So he fills your head all morning with Greek, Latin, and Logic, and everything like that. Honestly, I have a tutor too, but I've never opened a book with him in my life; I haven't even seen him this week, and I couldn't care less if I never see him again.
Stanhope. My dry-nurse never desires anything of me that is not reasonable, and for my own good; and therefore I like to be with him.
Stanhope. My caregiver never asks anything unreasonable from me, and it's always for my own benefit; that's why I enjoy being around him.
Englishman. Very sententious and edifying, upon my word! at this rate you will be reckoned a very good young man.
Englishman. Very serious and instructive, I swear! At this rate, you'll be seen as a really good young man.
Stanhope. Why, that will do me no harm.
Stanhope. Well, that won't harm me at all.
Englishman. Will you be with us to-morrow in the evening, then? We shall be ten with you; and I have got some excellent good wine; and we’ll be very merry.
Englishman. Will you join us tomorrow evening? There will be ten of us, and I have some really great wine; we’re going to have a good time.
Stanhope. I am very much obliged to you, but I am engaged for all the evening, to-morrow; first at Cardinal Albani’s; and then to sup at the Venetian Ambassadress’s.
Stanhope. I really appreciate it, but I’m already busy for the whole evening tomorrow; first at Cardinal Albani’s and then I’m heading to dinner at the Venetian Ambassadress’s.
Englishman. How the devil can you like being always with these foreigners? I never go among them with all their formalities and ceremonies. I am never easy in company with them, and I don’t know why, but I am ashamed.
Englishman. How on earth can you enjoy being around these foreigners all the time? I never hang out with them because of all their formalities and rituals. I never feel comfortable in their company, and I don’t know why, but I feel embarrassed.
Stanhope. I am neither ashamed nor afraid; I am very, easy with them; they are very easy with me; I get the language, and I see their characters, by conversing with them; and that is what we are sent abroad for, is it not?
Stanhope. I'm neither ashamed nor afraid; I get along well with them, and they get along well with me. I understand the language, and I see their personalities through our conversations. That's what we're here for, right?
Englishman. I hate your modest women’s company; your women of fashion as they call ‘em; I don’t know what to say to them, for my part.
Englishman. I dislike your reserved women; those so-called fashionable women; I don’t know what to say to them, for my part.
Stanhope. Have you ever conversed with them?
Stanhope. Have you ever talked to them?
Englishman. No; I never conversed with them; but have been sometimes in their company, though much against my will.
Englishman. No; I never spoke to them; but I have been in their company a few times, even though I really didn’t want to.
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.
Stanhope. But at least they haven't done you any harm; which is probably more than you can say about the women you do talk to.
Englishman. That’s true, I own; but for all that, I would rather keep company with my surgeon half the year, than with your women of fashion the year round.
Englishman. That's true, I admit; but still, I would prefer to spend half the year with my surgeon than to be with your fashionable women all year long.
Stanhope. Tastes are different, you know, and every man follows his own.
Stanhope. Tastes vary, you know, and everyone has their own preferences.
Englishman. That’s true; but thine’s a devilish odd one, Stanhope. All morning with thy dry-nurse; all the evening in formal fine company; and all day long afraid of Old Daddy in England. Thou art a queer fellow, and I am afraid there is nothing to be made of thee.
Englishman. That's true; but you're a really strange one, Stanhope. All morning with your nanny; all evening in fancy company; and all day long scared of Old Daddy back in England. You're a weird guy, and I'm afraid there's nothing to be done with you.
Stanhope. I am afraid so too.
Stanhope. I’m afraid so as well.
Englishman. Well, then, good night to you; you have no objection, I hope, to my being drunk to-night, which I certainly will be.
Englishman. Well, then, good night to you; I hope you don't mind if I'm drunk tonight, because I definitely will be.
Stanhope. Not in the least; nor to your being sick tomorrow, which you as certainly will be; and so good night, too.
Stanhope. Not at all; and you will definitely be sick tomorrow, so good night to you too.
You will observe, that I have not put into your mouth those good arguments which upon such an occasion would, I am sure, occur to you; as piety and affection toward me; regard and friendship for Mr. Harte; respect for your own moral character, and for all the relative duties of man, son, pupil, and citizen. Such solid arguments would be thrown away upon such shallow puppies. Leave them to their ignorance and to their dirty, disgraceful vices. They will severely feel the effects of them, when it will be too late. Without the comfortable refuge of learning, and with all the sickness and pains of a ruined stomach, and a rotten carcass, if they happen to arrive at old age, it is an uneasy and ignominious one. The ridicule which such fellows endeavor to throw upon those who are not like them, is, in the opinion of all men of sense, the most authentic panegyric. Go on, then, my dear child, in the way you are in, only for a year and a half more: that is all I ask of you. After that, I promise that you shall be your own master, and that I will pretend to no other title than that of your best and truest friend. You shall receive advice, but no orders, from me; and in truth you will want no other advice but such as youth and inexperience must necessarily require. You shall certainly want nothing that is requisite, not only for your conveniency, but also for your pleasures; which I always desire shall be gratified. You will suppose that I mean the pleasures ‘d’un honnete homme’.
You’ll notice that I haven’t fed you those strong arguments that I’m sure would come to your mind in this situation, like your devotion and care for me, your respect for Mr. Harte, and your commitment to your own moral character and all the duties you have as a man, son, student, and citizen. Those solid points would be wasted on such shallow people. Let them wallow in their ignorance and disgraceful habits. They’ll feel the consequences of their choices when it’s too late. Without the comforting shelter of knowledge, and suffering with all the ailments of a messed-up life, if they manage to reach old age, it’s a tough and shameful existence. The ridicule that such individuals try to cast on those who are different from them is, in the eyes of sensible people, the truest compliment. So, keep going, my dear child, on the path you’re on, just for another year and a half: that’s all I ask. After that, I promise you can do as you please, and I’ll take no title other than your best and truest friend. You’ll get advice from me, but no commands; in reality, you’ll only need guidance that anyone young and inexperienced would naturally require. You’ll absolutely have everything you need, not just for your convenience but for your enjoyment, which I always want to be fulfilled. You’ll understand that I’m referring to the pleasures of a respectable person.
While you are learning Italian, which I hope you do with diligence, pray take care to continue your German, which you may have frequent opportunities of speaking. I would also have you keep up your knowledge of the ‘Jus Publicum Imperii’, by looking over, now and then, those INESTIMABLE MANUSCRIPTS which Sir Charles Williams, who arrived here last week, assures me you have made upon that subject. It will be of very great use to you, when you come to be concerned in foreign affairs; as you shall be (if you qualify yourself for them) younger than ever any other was: I mean before you are twenty. Sir Charles tells me, that he will answer for your learning; and that, he believes, you will acquire that address, and those graces, which are so necessary to give it its full lustre and value. But he confesses, that he doubts more of the latter than of the former. The justice which he does Mr. Harte, in his panegyrics of him, makes me hope that there is likewise a great deal of truth in his encomiums of you. Are you pleased with, and proud of the reputation which you have already acquired? Surely you are, for I am sure I am. Will you do anything to lessen or forfeit it? Surely you will not. And will you not do all you can to extend and increase it? Surely you will. It is only going on for a year and a half longer, as you have gone on for the two years last past, and devoting half the day only to application; and you will be sure to make the earliest figure and fortune in the world, that ever man made. Adieu.
While you're learning Italian, which I hope you take seriously, please make sure to keep up with your German, as you'll have plenty of chances to speak it. I also want you to continue your study of the ‘Jus Publicum Imperii’ by occasionally reviewing those INESTIMABLE MANUSCRIPTS that Sir Charles Williams, who arrived here last week, assures me you’ve created on that topic. It will be extremely useful when you start dealing with foreign affairs; you will have the opportunity to be younger than anyone else has ever been in that regard, before you turn twenty. Sir Charles mentioned that he’s confident in your learning and believes you'll gain the skills and charm necessary to truly shine. However, he admits he’s more uncertain about the latter than the former. The praise he gives Mr. Harte leads me to hope that there’s also a lot of truth in his compliments about you. Are you happy with and proud of the reputation you’ve already built? You should be, because I certainly am. Would you do anything to undermine or lose it? I doubt it. And will you do everything possible to expand and enhance it? Absolutely. Just continue for another year and a half the way you have for the past two years, dedicating only half the day to your studies, and you'll surely make an incredible mark and fortune like no one else. Goodbye.
LETTER LXXXII
LONDON, September 22, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: If I had faith in philters and love potions, I should suspect that you had given Sir Charles Williams some, by the manner in which he speaks of you, not only to me, but to everybody else. I will not repeat to you what he says of the extent and correctness of your knowledge, as it might either make you vain, or persuade you that you had already enough of what nobody can have too much. You will easily imagine how many questions I asked, and how narrowly I sifted him upon your subject; he answered me, and I dare say with truth, just as I could have wished; till satisfied entirely with his accounts of your character and learning, I inquired into other matters, intrinsically indeed of less consequence, but still of great consequence to every man, and of more to you than to almost any man: I mean, your address, manners, and air. To these questions, the same truth which he had observed before, obliged him to give me much less satisfactory answers. And as he thought himself, in friendship both to you and me, obliged to tell me the disagreeable as well as the agreeable truths, upon the same principle I think myself obliged to repeat them to you.
DEAR BOY: If I believed in potions and love spells, I’d think you had given some to Sir Charles Williams, based on the way he talks about you, not just to me but to everyone. I won’t share what he says about how knowledgeable you are, since it could make you conceited or lead you to believe you already have enough of something no one can have too much of. You can easily guess how many questions I asked and how thoroughly I probed him about you; he answered me, and I’m sure honestly, just as I hoped he would. Once I was completely satisfied with what he said about your character and knowledge, I asked about other things that may seem less important but are still very significant to everyone, and even more so for you: your demeanor, manners, and presence. When it came to these questions, the same honesty that had marked his earlier responses led him to give me far less satisfying answers. Since he felt it was his duty to share both the good and the bad truths as a friend to both you and me, I feel I should do the same for you.
He told me then, that in company you were frequently most PROVOKINGLY inattentive, absent; and distrait; that you came into a room, and presented yourself, very awkwardly; that at table you constantly threw down knives, forks, napkins, bread, etc., and that you neglected your person and dress, to a degree unpardonable at any age, and much more so at yours.
He told me that when you were with others, you often seemed really annoyingly inattentive and distracted. You would walk into a room and present yourself very awkwardly. At the table, you constantly dropped knives, forks, napkins, bread, and so on, and you neglected your appearance and clothing to an unacceptable level, especially given your age.
These things, howsoever immaterial they may seem to people who do not know the world, and the nature of mankind, give me, who know them to be exceedingly material, very great concern. I have long distrusted you, and therefore frequently admonished you, upon these articles; and I tell you plainly, that I shall not be easy till I hear a very different account of them. I know no one thing more offensive to a company than that inattention and DISTRACTION. It is showing them the utmost contempt; and people never forgive contempt. No man is distrait with the man he fears, or the woman he loves; which is a proof that every man can get the better of that DISTRACTION, when he thinks it worth his while to do so; and, take my word for it, it is always worth his while. For my own part, I would rather be in company with a dead man, than with an absent one; for if the dead man gives me no pleasure; at least he shows me no contempt; whereas, the absent man, silently indeed, but very plainly, tells me that he does not think me worth his attention. Besides, can an absent man make any observations upon the characters customs, and manners of the company? No. He may be in the best companies all his lifetime (if they will admit him, which, if I were they, I would not) and never be one jot the wiser. I never will converse with an absent man; one may as well talk to a deaf one. It is, in truth, a practical blunder, to address ourselves to a man who we see plainly neither hears, minds, or understands us. Moreover, I aver that no man is, in any degree, fit for either business or conversation, who cannot and does not direct and command his attention to the present object, be that what it will. You know, by experience, that I grudge no expense in your education, but I will positively not keep you a Flapper. You may read, in Dr. Swift, the description of these flappers, and the use they were of to your friends the Laputans; whose minds (Gulliver says) are so taken up with intense speculations, that they neither can speak nor attend to the discourses of others, without being roused by some external traction upon the organs of speech and hearing; for which reason, those people who are able to afford it, always keep a flapper in their family, as one of their domestics; nor ever walk about, or make visits without him. This flapper is likewise employed diligently to attend his master in his walks; and, upon occasion, to give a soft flap upon his eyes, because he is always so wrapped up in cogitation, that he is in manifest danger of falling down every precipice, and bouncing his head against every post, and, in the streets, of jostling others, or being jostled into the kennel himself. If CHRISTIAN will undertake this province into the bargain, with all my heart; but I will not allow him any increase of wages upon that score. In short, I give you fair warning, that, when we meet, if you are absent in mind, I will soon be absent in body; for it will be impossible for me to stay in the room; and if at table you throw down your knife, plate, bread, etc., and hack the wing of a chicken for half an hour, without being able to cut it off, and your sleeve all the time in another dish, I must rise from the table to escape the fever you would certainly give me. Good God! how I should be shocked, if you came into my room, for the first time, with two left legs, presenting yourself with all the graces and dignity of a tailor, and your clothes hanging upon you, like those in Monmouth street, upon tenter-hooks! whereas, I expect, nay, require, to see you present yourself with the easy and genteel air of a man of fashion, who has kept good company. I expect you not only well dressed but very well dressed; I expect a gracefulness in all your motions, and something particularly engaging in your address, All this I expect, and all this it is in your power, by care and attention, to make me find; but to tell you the plain truth, if I do not find it, we shall not converse very much together; for I cannot stand inattention and awkwardness; it would endanger my health. You have often seen, and I have as often made you observe L——‘s distinguished inattention and awkwardness. Wrapped up, like a Laputan, in intense thought, and possibly sometimes in no thought at all (which, I believe, is very often the case with absent people), he does not know his most intimate acquaintance by sight, or answers them as if he were at cross purposes. He leaves his hat in one room, his sword in another, and would leave his shoes in a third, if his buckles, though awry, did not save them: his legs and arms, by his awkward management of them, seem to have undergone the question extraordinaire; and his head, always hanging upon one or other of his shoulders, seems to have received the first stroke upon a block. I sincerely value and esteem him for his parts, learning, and virtue; but, for the soul of me, I cannot love him in company. This will be universally the case, in common life, of every inattentive, awkward man, let his real merit and knowledge be ever so great. When I was of your age, I desired to shine, as far as I was able, in every part of life; and was as attentive to my manners, my dress, and my air, in company of evenings, as to my books and my tutor in the mornings. A young fellow should be ambitious to shine in everything—and, of the two, always rather overdo than underdo. These things are by no means trifles: they are of infinite consequence to those who are to be thrown into the great world, and who would make a figure or a fortune in it. It is not sufficient to deserve well; one must please well too. Awkward, disagreeable merit will never carry anybody far. Wherever you find a good dancing-master, pray let him put you upon your haunches; not so much for the sake of dancing, as for coming into a room, and presenting yourself genteelly and gracefully. Women, whom you ought to endeavor to please, cannot forgive vulgar and awkward air and gestures; ‘il leur faut du brillant’. The generality of men are pretty like them, and are equally taken by the same exterior graces.
These things, no matter how insignificant they may seem to people who don't understand the world or human nature, worry me greatly because I know they are very important. I've long distrusted you, which is why I've often warned you about these issues; and I’ll be straightforward—I'm not going to be comfortable until I hear a very different story about them. There’s nothing more offensive in a group than inattention and DISTRACTION. It shows the utmost contempt, and people never forgive contempt. No man is distracted by the person he fears or the woman he loves; this proves that every man can overcome that DISTRACTION when he thinks it's worth it, and believe me, it’s always worth it. Personally, I’d rather be with a dead man than an absent one; a dead man may not bring me any pleasure, but at least he shows me no contempt. The absent man, though quiet, makes it clear that he doesn't think I'm worth his attention. Besides, can an absent man observe the characters, customs, and manners of those around him? No. He might be in the best company his whole life (if they'll let him in, which, if I were them, I wouldn't) and never become any wiser. I refuse to engage in conversation with an absent man; it’s like talking to a deaf person. In truth, it's a mistake to address someone who is clearly not hearing, caring, or understanding us. Moreover, I assert that no one is fit for business or conversation who cannot and does not focus their attention on the current subject, whatever it might be. You know from experience that I spare no expense on your education, but I absolutely will not keep you a Flapper. You can read in Dr. Swift about these flappers and their role for your friends the Laputans; whose minds (Gulliver says) are so consumed by deep thoughts that they cannot speak or listen to others without being jolted back by some external distraction to their speech and hearing. That's why those who can afford it always have a flapper in their household, never walking around or visiting without one. This flapper is also employed to help his master during walks and to softly tap his eyes when he’s so lost in thought that he risks falling into every hole or bumping into every pole, and in the streets, either jostling others or getting shoved into the gutter himself. If CHRISTIAN is willing to take on this task as well, that's fine by me, but I won’t give him any extra pay for it. In short, I warn you, when we meet, if your mind is elsewhere, I won’t stick around; it will be impossible for me to stay in the room. If at the table you drop your knife, plate, and bread, and struggle to cut the wing off a chicken for half an hour while your sleeve is in another dish, I’ll have to leave the table to escape the fever you would definitely give me. Good God! How shocked I would be if you walked into my room for the first time with two left feet, presenting yourself with all the elegance of a tailor, with your clothes hanging off you like those in Monmouth Street on tenterhooks! I expect, no, I require to see you present yourself with the relaxed and polished demeanor of a sophisticated man who has mixed with good company. I expect you to be not only well-dressed but impeccably dressed; I look for grace in all your movements, and something particularly charming in how you engage. I expect all this, and it's within your power, through care and attention, to make me experience it; but honestly, if I don’t see it, we won’t interact much, because I can’t handle inattention and awkwardness; it would jeopardize my health. You have often seen, and I’ve often pointed out L——’s remarkable inattention and awkwardness. Wrapped up like a Laputan in deep thought and possibly empty thought (which, I believe, often happens with absent people), he doesn’t recognize his closest friends by sight or responds to them as if he’s at odds with them. He leaves his hat in one room, his sword in another, and would leave his shoes in a third if his buckles, though crooked, didn’t keep them on. His limbs, in his clumsy handling, seem to have undergone some strange interrogation, and his head, always tilting to one shoulder, looks like it took a hard hit. I genuinely appreciate and respect him for his intelligence, knowledge, and character; but, honestly, I can’t enjoy his company. This is how it is, universally, with every inattentive, awkward person, regardless of their real worth or knowledge. When I was your age, I wanted to excel in every area of life; I was just as focused on my manners, appearance, and poise during social evenings as I was on my studies and tutor in the mornings. A young man should strive to excel in everything—and, if anything, to err on the side of doing too much rather than too little. These things are far from trifling; they are incredibly important for those entering the business world, and who want to make a name or fortune in it. It’s not enough to deserve well; one must also please well. Awkward and off-putting merit will never take anyone far. Whenever you find a good dancing instructor, please let him teach you how to carry yourself elegantly; not just for dancing, but to enter a room and present yourself gracefully. Women, whom you should aim to impress, won’t forgive a crude and awkward demeanor; ‘il leur faut du brillant’. Most men are pretty much the same and are equally attracted to the same external graces.
I am very glad that you have received the diamond buckles safe; all I desire in return for them is, that they may be buckled even upon your feet, and that your stockings may not hide them. I should be sorry that you were an egregious fop; but, I protest, that of the two, I would rather have you a fop than a sloven. I think negligence in my own dress, even at my age, when certainly I expect no advantages from my dress, would be indecent with regard to others. I have done with fine clothes; but I will have my plain clothes fit me, and made like other people’s: In the evenings, I recommend to you the company of women of fashion, who have a right to attention and will be paid it. Their company will smooth your manners, and give you a habit of attention and respect, of which you will find the advantage among men.
I'm really glad you got the diamond buckles safely. All I ask in return is that you wear them proudly on your feet and let your stockings show them off. I wouldn't want you to be a total dandy, but honestly, I'd prefer you to be a dandy than a slob. Even at my age, when I don’t expect to gain anything from my clothes, I think it's inappropriate to be careless about my appearance, especially out of respect for others. I'm done with fancy outfits, but I want my simple clothes to fit well and be styled like everyone else's. In the evenings, I suggest you spend time with fashionable women who deserve attention and will receive it. Their company will help refine your manners and instill a sense of respect and attentiveness you’ll find beneficial 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.
My plan for you, from the start, has been to help you shine equally in both the academic and social worlds; the academic part is almost done to my satisfaction, and I believe that with a little more time, it will be completely so. The social part is still up to you to finish; I’m confident you will do it, or else the academic part won’t benefit you much, especially in your field, where charm and social skills are just as important—if not more so. They need to showcase your true abilities, or your abilities will not get the recognition they deserve; everyone can judge the former, but few can see 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.
Mr. Harte tells me that you've grown a lot since your illness; if you get up to five feet ten, or even nine inches, you'll likely have a good figure; and if you dress well and carry yourself elegantly, you'll probably be pleasing to others, which is a much bigger advantage for a man than people usually realize. Lord Bacon refers to it as 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.
I want you to be the well-rounded person, the 'universal man.' You're closer to it, believe it or not, than anyone else has ever been at your age; and if you just focus completely on your studies in the mornings and work on your presentation, manners, and overall style in the evenings for just this next year, you'll become the person I hope for and someone who's quite uncommon.
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.
Our letters are pretty unreliable and often get entirely lost, so for safety’s sake I’ll repeat myself. Even though I acknowledged Mr. Harte’s letter from September 8th in my last message, I’ll do it again here for you. If you’re still in Verona when you get this, I wish you’d head to Naples soon; unless Mr. Harte thinks it’s better for you to stay in Verona or somewhere nearby until you go to Rome for the Jubilee. In fact, if he prefers, I’m totally okay with you going straight from Verona to Rome because you can never get enough of Rome, whether it’s for the language, the sights, or the company. My only reason for mentioning Naples is because of the climate and your health, but if Mr. Harte thinks your health has improved enough to not worry about the climate, he can decide your next destination. For all I know, going straight to Rome and staying longer there might be just as good as anything else. I believe we can’t trust our affairs to anyone better than Mr. Harte; I’d bet on his judgment over the Pope’s any day. Speaking of the Pope: make sure to get introduced to him before you leave Rome and go through the necessary rituals, whether that’s kissing his slipper or whatever; I wouldn’t want to miss out on anything I want to do or see just because I refused to follow some custom. When I visited Catholic countries, I never hesitated to kneel in their churches at the elevation or bow when the Host passed by. It’s a courtesy due to the local customs and, despite what some silly people think, doesn’t suggest approval of their beliefs. Physical gestures and positions are so neutral that I wouldn’t argue with anyone about them. It might not be appropriate for Mr. Harte to show that kind of courtesy, given his position.
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.
This letter is pretty long and could be a bit boring, but I care so much about your well-being—especially during this important time in your life—that I'm more worried about leaving something out than about repeating myself or going on too long about anything I believe could help you. Please share my concern for yourself, and everything will turn out fine. Goodbye, 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.
DEAR BOY: A crude, common way of thinking, acting, or speaking shows a lack of education and a tendency to associate with low company. Young people pick this up at school or when they hang out with servants, with whom they often talk too much; but after they start spending time in better company, they really have to pay attention and observe if they want to get rid of it completely; and honestly, if they don’t, good company will likely exclude them. There are countless types of slang; I can’t list them all for you, but I’ll share a few examples that can help you understand 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.
A vulgar person is easily offended and jealous; they get worked up and impulsive over small things. They suspect that they’re being slighted, assuming everything said is directed at them; if the group laughs, they are convinced it's at their expense. This makes them angry and irritable, prompting them to say something rude and land themselves in trouble by trying to assert themselves. A sophisticated person doesn’t think they are the only focus of everyone’s thoughts, looks, or comments; they don’t suspect being slighted or laughed at unless they know they deserve it. And if (which rarely happens) the crowd is rude enough to do either, they don’t care much, unless the insult is so blatant that it demands a different kind of response. Because they rise above trivial matters, they never get overly excited about them; instead, when faced with such issues, they choose to go along rather than argue. A vulgar person’s conversation always reveals the low quality of their upbringing and social circle. It mainly revolves around their home life, their servants, the great order they maintain in their household, and the neighborhood gossip, which they share with great emphasis as if they are important stories. They are a total 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.
Vulgar language is the next and defining feature of bad company and poor education. A fashionable person avoids it more carefully than anything else. Clichés and overused phrases are the hallmarks of a vulgar person. If he wants to express that people have different preferences, he backs it up with the old saying, which he respectfully refers to as, "WHAT IS ONE MAN’S MEAT, IS ANOTHER MAN’S POISON." If anyone tries to be clever with him, he responds in kind, yes, he does. He always has some favorite word that he overuses, like VASTLY angry, VASTLY kind, VASTLY handsome, and VASTLY ugly. Even the way he pronounces words has a noticeable flaw. He says YEARTH instead of earth; he is OBLEIGED to you, not OBLIGED. He goes TO WARDS instead of TOWARDS a place. He sometimes tries to use big words for flair but always mispronounces them like an uneducated person. A fashionable person never relies on proverbs or common sayings; he avoids favorite words and complicated terms; instead, he makes sure to speak very correctly and grammatically and pronounces words properly, following the conventions of the best company.
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.
An awkward demeanor, clumsy behavior, and a certain lack of finesse (if I can put it that way) clearly show poor education and low social status; because it’s hard to believe that someone who has been around better company hasn’t picked up at least a bit of their style and mannerisms. A newcomer in a regiment is easily recognized by their awkwardness; yet they must be incredibly dim-witted if, after a month or two, they can’t manage at least basic drills and look like a soldier. The very gear of a fashionable person is a heavy burden for someone common. They fumble with their hat when it’s not on their head, and their cane (if they’re unfortunate enough to carry one) is always getting in the way of every cup of tea or coffee they attempt to drink, disrupting everything first and then clumsily joining the mess. Their sword is only a threat to their own legs, which would likely run away fast enough from any other sword. Their clothes fit so poorly and restrict them so much that they seem more like a prisoner than the owner. They enter a social setting like a defendant in a courtroom; their very presence gives them away, and fashionable people won’t want anything to do with them, just as people of integrity won’t associate with a criminal. This rejection pushes them down into lower company, a pit from which no one escapes after a certain age.
‘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.
The noble manners and poise of a well-bred person, the demeanor of someone in a good social circle, the charm, that certain something young people have that appeals to others, are just as essential to highlight and showcase your genuine talent and knowledge as the polish is to a diamond; without that polish, it would never be worn, no matter how heavy it is. Don’t think these skills are only useful with women; they are even more important with men. In a public gathering, a graceful speaker with smooth gestures, a good appearance, and a confident presence has a significant advantage over someone who may have just as much good sense but lacks these appealing qualities. In business, those elegant traits can be very influential, while lacking them can be very harmful. Because of these traits, I've seen some people decline favors more gracefully than others have been able to grant them. Their effectiveness in courts and negotiations is unimaginable. You can win the hearts and, thus, the secrets of nine out of ten people you deal with, even against their better judgment, which will, more often than not, fall prey to their emotions and senses. Recognize the significance of these traits as they deserve, and you won't waste a moment in pursuing 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.
You are now visiting a country that used to be famous for both its arts and military prowess. Although it's not what it once was, it still deserves your attention and thought. So take a good look, compare how it used to be with how it is now, and delve into the reasons for its rise and decline. Think about it in both classical and political terms, and don’t rush through it like too many of your young compatriots do, focused on trivial things. Please, no music or distractions; don’t waste time fixating on nearly invisible 'intaglios and cameos,' and don't become an expert in minor objects. Instead, develop an appreciation for painting, sculpture, and architecture by carefully studying the works of the best ancient and modern artists; these are sophisticated arts, and a genuine appreciation for them fits a cultured person very well. But beyond a certain limit, the true connoisseur fades away, and the superficial enthusiast takes over.
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!
Your friend Mendes, the good Samaritan, had dinner with me yesterday. He’s more kind-hearted and generous than skilled. However, I’ll treat him with all the courtesy his kindness to you deserves. He tells me that you’re taller than I am, which I’m really pleased about. I hope you excel me in everything else as well; and instead of being envious, I’ll be happy for your success. He speaks very highly of your friend Mr. Stevens, and I’ve heard such great things about him from others that I’m glad you’re connected with him. It might be helpful for you in the future. When you meet Englishmen abroad who are likely to make an impression at home because of their skills or status, I suggest you build relationships with them and gain their support, especially those who will return to England before you. Sir Charles Williams has praised you here quite a bit (as people say). If a few more talented individuals do the same before you return, your first appearance in London will be a great advantage. Many people do, and really should, take things at face value; many more do so unnecessarily; and few dare to question an established opinion. Goodbye!
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.
DEAR BOY: I got your letter from September 22nd, N.S., in the last mail, but I haven’t received the one from Mr. Harte that you mentioned, which you said had your reasons for leaving Verona and returning to Venice; so I’m completely in the dark about them. Honestly, the inconsistency and carelessness of the mail frustrate me, as they interrupt the flow of updates I want from you and the instructions and orders I send you almost every time. 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.
I'm sure I've written eighteen letters, either to you or to Mr. Harte, and it doesn't look like any of them were received based on your letter. Going forward, I ask that both you and Mr. Harte always include the dates of my letters in your replies. If my letters hadn't gotten lost, you wouldn't be feeling the uncertainty you seem to have right now about your future plans. If you'd received my letters, you would already be in Naples by now. But we have to deal with things as 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.
Once you receive this letter, please set out for Rome as soon as you can. You should arrive there not too long before the jubilee, considering the challenges of finding a place to stay and other accommodations at this time. I’ll leave the choice of your route up to you, but I definitely don’t want you to leave Rome after the jubilee, as you hinted in your letter. On the contrary, I want Rome to be your base for at least six months until you’ve somewhat acquired the ‘Jus Civitatis’ there. There’s so much to see and learn there that you won’t find anywhere else in Europe; there are the best teachers to learn from and the best company to help you refine yourself. In the spring, feel free to make frequent trips to Naples if you’d like, but Rome must still be your main base until the heat of June drives you to some other place in Italy, which we can figure out by then. As for the expenses you mentioned, that doesn’t concern me at all; from your childhood until now, I’ve never minded the costs of your education, and I care even less now that it's more crucial and impactful. I focus on what you’re spending the money on, not the amounts. I won’t pay a single penny for you to lose your nose, your money, or your sanity; in other words, I won’t support any spending on women, gambling, or drinking. But I’m more than happy to cover not only all necessary expenses but also any reasonable ones. I don’t mind what the best teachers cost. I want you to be well-dressed, well-housed, and well-cared-for, just like any sensible traveler should be. I’d like you to have pocket money that allows you to spend properly as a gentleman. In short, I won’t limit any expense that isn’t related to vice or foolishness, and within those two reasonable restrictions, spend away.
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.
As for Turin, you can visit there later as a traveler for a month or two; however, you can't comfortably live there as an academic for reasons I've previously shared with Mr. Harte. Mr. Villettes has since returned and has pointed out those reasons even more clearly than he did in his letters from Turin, which I sent copies of to Mr. Harte, although he probably never got 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.
Once you leave Rome, Florence is a place you should definitely get to know. I know there’s a lot of gambling there, but at the same time, there are always some people whose fortunes are either too small or whose minds are too clear to bet anything more than small change; and you’ll connect with those people, if you don't (as I'm sure you don't) have any gambling spirit in you. Also, in places like Florence, Turin, and Paris that are known for it, I'll be keeping a close eye on your bets, and anything that goes beyond reasonable and appropriate spending won’t be tolerated; I can easily tell whether you’re gambling or not without needing to be 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.
Mr. Harte will decide your route to Rome as he sees fit; whether along the Adriatic coast or the Mediterranean, it’s all the same to me; but make sure you return by a different path than the one you took.
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.
Since your health has improved so much, I’m not sorry you’ve returned to Venice, because I love major cities. Everything is better in capitals: the best artists, the best friends, and the best etiquette. Many other places are worth visiting, but only capitals are worth living in. I’m really glad that Madame Capello welcomed you so warmly. I was sure Monsieur would; please convey my respects to both of them and let them know how grateful I am for their kindness to you. Their home will be a great place for you in Rome, and I advise you to stay there if you can. But I must say, Madame does require a lot of attention. Madame Micheli has written a very positive recommendation about you to my friend the Abbe Grossa Testa, in a letter he showed me, filled with so many kind remarks about me that I want to express my gratitude to her. I really like how you have organized your time in Venice; please keep that up for at least a year, no matter where you are. You’ll benefit from 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 liked your last letter, which told me about you and what you've been up to. While I wouldn't suggest being self-centered with anyone else, I want you to be that way with me, and me alone. I care about everything you do; so far, the only other person who does is Mr. Harte. He definitely needs to know everything, and I want to know a lot as well.
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.
I’m glad you received the diamond buckles and that you like them. I’m fine with you wearing them, but I really don’t want you to show off at the jubilee; showing off is the lowest form of vulgarity in English and just as elegant as saying "Yes, my Lady" and "No, my Lady." You’ll have noticed in my previous letter that I’ve banned the words VAST and VASTLY from a gentleman’s vocabulary, except when talking about actual sizes and bulk. Not just in language, but in everything else, make sure that the first impressions you give are not only favorable but also pleasing, engaging, and even charming. Those first impressions can be crucial; I admit they are very impactful for me, and I don’t want to get to know someone better if my first encounter with them is off-putting.
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.
So many of my letters have gone astray, and I know so little about which ones that I have to repeat the same thing over and over again eventually. This is one of those times. I’ve written twice to Mr. Harte, asking him to get your portrait done in miniature while you’re in Venice and send it to me in a letter: it doesn’t matter to me whether it’s in enamel or watercolors, as long as it looks just like you. I want you drawn exactly as you are, without any fancy clothing, and I care more about the likeness than the style and skill of the artist. If this hasn’t been done yet, I urge you to have it completed before you leave Venice and enclose it in a letter to me, which I’d like you to ask Sir James Gray to include in his package to the office; I’m sending this under his cover for the same reason. If the portrait is done on vellum, it will be the easiest to carry. At the same time, please send me a piece of silk that is exactly your height. I'm concerned about your appearance; I’ve seen countless examples that a good figure 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 possess that and everything else! Goodbye.
Have you received my letters of recommendation to Cardinal Albani and the Duke de Nivernois, at Rome?
Have you gotten my letters of recommendation to Cardinal Albani and the Duke de Nivernois in 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.
DEAR BOY: If this letter reaches you at all, which I doubt, it will find you in Venice, getting ready for your trip to Rome. In my last letter to Mr. Harte, I suggested you travel along the Adriatic coast, stopping at Rimini, Loreto, Ancona, and other sights worth seeing but not worth lingering at. I consider all places where you only use your eyes to be like that. You should take a moment to appreciate the remnants of the past, public buildings, paintings, sculptures, etc., but that doesn’t take long, as they are merely the surface. It’s different with more significant subjects; you need to see the insides, which demand and deserve more attention. Understanding the characters, minds, and hearts of people is the essential knowledge you should master. This knowledge is best learned in capitals, where every human emotion has a focus, applying its full force or skill in pursuit. I believe nowhere in the world is every emotion more active, appears in more forms, and is executed with more finesse than in Rome. Therefore, when you’re there, don’t assume that the Capitol, the Vatican, and the Pantheon are your main interests. For every minute you spend on those, invest ten days in learning about the nature of that government, the rise and fall of papal power, the politics of that court, the alliances of the cardinals, the strategies of the Conclaves; and generally everything concerning the inner workings of that remarkable government, which was originally built on the ignorance and superstition of people, expanded by some princes' weaknesses and others' ambitions; has been declining recently as knowledge has grown; and owes its current shaky security not to the religion, affection, or fear of temporal powers, but to their mutual jealousy. The Pope’s excommunications are no longer feared; his indulgences are rarely sought after and are cheap; and his territories, once intimidating, are desired by many, and will most likely be divided among the major powers currently in Italy, as soon they can agree on how to divide the spoils. Please thoroughly educate yourself on the history of the popes and the papacy, which over many centuries has intertwined with the history of all Europe. Read the best authors on these topics, especially Fra Paolo’s ‘De Beneficiis’, a concise but significant book. You will find representatives from all the religious orders of the Christian world in Rome. Make sure to understand their origins, founders, rules, reforms, and even their attire: get to know a bit about all of them, but especially the Jesuits; I believe their society is the most skilled and well-managed in the world. Try to meet their General, who always resides in Rome and, while he has no overt power beyond his own society, may have more genuine influence over the world than any earthly prince. They have nearly monopolized the education of youth; they often serve as confessors to most of Europe’s princes; and they are the primary missionaries outside the continent, which gives them extensive influence and solid advantages, as seen in their establishment in Paraguay. Catholics generally criticize that society while being governed by its members. They have been banned and shamed in almost every country in Europe, yet have consistently found ways to be restored, often triumphantly. In short, I know of no government in the world that operates on such deep principles of policy, and I won't even add morality. Interact with them, visit them, engage with them; but make sure you 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.
Educate yourself about that terrible court, the Inquisition; which, although it’s not as significant in Rome as it is in Spain and Portugal, will still serve as a good example of what some people's wickedness can create, the foolishness of others can accept, and how they can both work together to establish something despite the fundamental principles of reason, justice, and fairness.
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.
These are the right and useful things for a sensible person to focus on when traveling; these are the reasons I sent you away, and I hope you'll come back well-informed about them.
I receive this very moment Mr. Harte’s letter of the 1st October, N. S., but I never received his former, to which he refers in this, and you refer in your last; in which he gave me the reasons for your leaving Verona so soon; nor have I ever received that letter in which your case was stated by your physicians. Letters to and from me have worse luck than other people’s; for you have written to me, and I to you, for these last three months, by way of Germany, with as little success as before.
I just got Mr. Harte’s letter from October 1st, but I never received his previous one that he mentions in this letter, and you talked about in your last message. In that letter, he explained why you left Verona so quickly. I also haven’t received the letter where your doctors explained your situation. It seems my letters have worse luck than others; we’ve been writing to each other for the last three months through Germany, and it’s been just as unsuccessful as before.
I am edified with your morning applications, and your evening gallantries at Venice, of which Mr. Harte gives me an account. Pray go on with both there, and afterward at Rome; where, provided you arrive in the beginning of December, you may stay at Venice as much longer as you please.
I’m really impressed with your morning activities and your evening outings in Venice, which Mr. Harte tells me about. Please keep it up there, and continue in Rome as well; if you get there at the beginning of December, you can stay in Venice as long as you want.
Make my compliments to Sir James Gray and Mr. Smith, with my acknowledgments for the great civilities they show you.
Make sure to send my regards to Sir James Gray and Mr. Smith, and thank them for their kindness towards you.
I wrote to Mr. Harte by the last post, October the 6th, O. S., and will write to him in a post or two upon the contents of his last. Adieu! ‘Point de distractions’; and remember the GRACES.
I wrote to Mr. Harte in the last mail on October 6th, O.S., and I'll write to him again in a post or two about what he said in his last letter. Goodbye! 'No distractions'; and don't forget the GRACES.
LETTER LXXXVI
LONDON, October 17, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: I have at last received Mr. Harte’s letter of the 19th September, N. S., from Verona. Your reasons for leaving that place were very good ones; and as you stayed there long enough to see what was to be seen, Venice (as a capital) is, in my opinion, a much better place for your residence. Capitals are always the seats of arts and sciences, and the best companies. I have stuck to them all my lifetime, and I advise you to do so too.
DEAR BOY: I finally got Mr. Harte’s letter from September 19th, N.S., sent from Verona. Your reasons for leaving that place were excellent, and since you spent enough time there to see what you needed to, I think Venice is a much better place for you to live. Capitals are always centers of art, science, and the best social scenes. I've stayed connected to them my whole life, and I advise you to do the same.
You will have received in my three or four last letters my directions for your further motions to another capital, where I propose that your stay shall be pretty considerable. The expense, I am well aware, will be so too; but that, as I told you before, will have no weight when your improvement and advantage are in the other scale. I do not care a groat what it is, if neither vice nor folly are the objects of it, and if Mr. Harte gives his sanction.
You should have gotten my last three or four letters with instructions for your next steps to another city, where I plan for you to stay for a good amount of time. I know the costs will be high too, but as I mentioned before, that won't matter when the benefits to your growth and opportunity are considered. I don’t mind the cost at all, as long as it doesn’t involve any bad behavior or foolishness, and as long as Mr. Harte approves it.
I am very well pleased with your account of Carniola; those are the kind of objects worthy of your inquiries and knowledge. The produce, the taxes, the trade, the manufactures, the strength, the weakness, the government of the several countries which a man of sense travels through, are the material points to which he attends; and leaves the steeples, the market-places, and the signs, to the laborious and curious researches of Dutch and German travelers.
I’m really impressed with your account of Carniola; those are exactly the kinds of topics that deserve your attention and expertise. The agriculture, taxes, trade, industries, strengths, weaknesses, and governance of the different countries that a sensible person visits are the key areas to focus on. The steeples, market squares, and signs can be left to the diligent and inquisitive research of Dutch and German travelers.
Mr. Harte tells me, that he intends to give you, by means of Signor Vicentini, a general notion of civil and military architecture; with which I am very well pleased. They are frequent subjects of conversation; and it is very right that you should have some idea of the latter, and a good taste of the former; and you may very soon learn as much as you need know of either. If you read about one-third of Palladio’s book of architecture with some skillful person, and then, with that person, examine the best buildings by those rules, you will know the different proportions of the different orders; the several diameters of their columns; their intercolumniations, their several uses, etc. The Corinthian Order is chiefly used in magnificent buildings, where ornament and decoration are the principal objects; the Doric is calculated for strength, and the Ionic partakes of the Doric strength, and of the Corinthian ornaments. The Composite and the Tuscan orders are more modern, and were unknown to the Greeks; the one is too light, the other too clumsy. You may soon be acquainted with the considerable parts of civil architecture; and for the minute and mechanical parts of it, leave them to masons, bricklayers, and Lord Burlington, who has, to a certain extent, lessened himself by knowing them too well. Observe the same method as to military architecture; understand the terms, know the general rules, and then see them in execution with some skillful person. Go with some engineer or old officer, and view with care the real fortifications of some strong place; and you will get a clearer idea of bastions, half-moons, horn-works, ravelins, glacis, etc., than all the masters in the world could give you upon paper. And thus much I would, by all means, have you know of both civil and military architecture.
Mr. Harte tells me that he plans to give you a general overview of civil and military architecture through Signor Vicentini, which I really like. These topics often come up in conversation, and it's important for you to have a basic understanding of the latter and a good appreciation of the former. You can quickly learn as much as you need about either. If you read about a third of Palladio’s architecture book with someone skilled, and then examine the best buildings according to those rules with that person, you'll learn the different proportions of the various architectural styles, the diameters of their columns, their spacing, and their uses, among other things. The Corinthian Order is mainly used in grand buildings where decoration is key, the Doric is designed for strength, and the Ionic combines the Doric’s sturdiness with Corinthian decoration. The Composite and Tuscan orders are more modern and were not known to the Greeks; one is too light, while the other is too bulky. You'll soon become familiar with the main aspects of civil architecture; for the more technical details, leave those to masons, bricklayers, and Lord Burlington, who has somewhat diminished his status by knowing them too intimately. Take the same approach with military architecture: learn the terminology, understand the basic principles, and then observe them in practice alongside someone skilled. Accompany an engineer or a seasoned officer to carefully study the actual fortifications of a stronghold; this will give you a clearer understanding of bastions, half-moons, horn-works, ravelins, glacis, etc., than any textbook could. And I want you to know this much about both civil and military architecture.
I would also have you acquire a liberal taste of the two liberal arts of painting and sculpture; but without descending into those minutia, which our modern virtuosi most affectedly dwell upon. Observe the great parts attentively; see if nature be truly represented; if the passions are strongly expressed; if the characters are preserved; and leave the trifling parts, with their little jargon, to affected puppies. I would advise you also, to read the history of the painters and sculptors, and I know none better than Felibien’s. There are many in Italian; you will inform yourself which are the best. It is a part of history very entertaining, curious enough, and not quite useless. All these sort of things I would have you know, to a certain degree; but remember, that they must only be the amusements, and not the business of a man of parts.
I’d also like you to develop an appreciation for the two liberal arts of painting and sculpture, but without getting bogged down in the details that our modern experts obsess over. Pay attention to the main elements; see if nature is accurately represented, if emotions are vividly conveyed, and if the characters are distinctive. Leave the trivial aspects and their pretentious language to those who are trying too hard. I also recommend reading about the lives of painters and sculptors, and I know of no better resource than Felibien’s work. There are many Italian texts; you can find out which ones are the best. This part of history is quite entertaining, interesting enough, and not entirely useless. I want you to be familiar with all these things to some extent, but keep in mind that they should only be a source of enjoyment, not the main focus of a capable person.
Since writing to me in German would take up so much of your time, of which I would not now have one moment wasted, I will accept of your composition, and content myself with a moderate German letter once a fortnight, to Lady Chesterfield or Mr. Gravenkop. My meaning was only that you should not forget what you had already learned of the German language and character; but, on the contrary, that by frequent use it should grow more easy and familiar. Provided you take care of that, I do not care by what means: but I do desire that you will every day of your life speak German to somebody or other (for you will meet with Germans enough), and write a line or two of it every day to keep your hand in. Why should you not (for instance) write your little memorandums and accounts in that language and character? by which, too, you would have this advantage into the bargain, that, if mislaid, few but yourself could read them.
Since writing to me in German would take up so much of your time, which I don’t want to waste, I’ll accept your composition, and I’ll be satisfied with a simple German letter every two weeks, either to Lady Chesterfield or Mr. Gravenkop. My point was only that you shouldn’t forget what you’ve already learned about the German language and culture; instead, by using it often, it should become easier and more familiar. As long as you keep that in mind, I don’t care how you do it: however, I do hope that you will speak German to someone every day (because you’ll encounter plenty of Germans), and write a line or two in it daily to maintain your skills. Why not, for example, write your little notes and accounts in that language? Plus, you'd have the added benefit that if they get lost, very few people but you would be able to read them.
I am extremely glad to hear that you like the assemblies at Venice well enough to sacrifice some suppers to them; for I hear that you do not dislike your suppers neither. It is therefore plain, that there is somebody or something at those assemblies, which you like better than your meat. And as I know that there is none but good company at those assemblies, I am very glad to find that you like good company so well. I already imagine that you are a little, smoothed by it; and that you have either reasoned yourself, or that they have laughed you out of your absences and DISTRACTIONS; for I cannot suppose that you go there to insult them. I likewise imagine, that you wish to be welcome where you wish to go; and consequently, that you both present and behave yourself there ‘en galant homme, et pas in bourgeois’.
I'm really happy to hear that you enjoy the gatherings in Venice enough to give up some dinners for them; I’ve also heard that you don’t mind your dinners, either. So it’s clear that there’s something or someone at those gatherings that you prefer over your food. Since I know there’s nothing but great company at those gatherings, it makes me glad to see you appreciate good company so much. I can already picture you being a bit more polished because of it, and that you’ve either talked yourself into it or they’ve helped you shake off your absences and distractions; I can't imagine you go there just to annoy them. I also think you want to be welcomed where you choose to go; therefore, I believe you both present and carry yourself there like a gentleman, not like a common person.
If you have vowed to anybody there one of those eternal passions which I have sometimes known, by great accident, last three months, I can tell you that without great attention, infinite politeness, and engaging air and manners, the omens will be sinister, and the goddess unpropitious. Pray tell me what are the amusements of those assemblies? Are they little commercial play, are they music, are they ‘la belle conversation’, or are they all three? ‘Y file-t-on le parfait amour? Y debite-t-on les beaux sentimens? Ou est-ce yu’on y parle Epigramme? And pray which is your department? ‘Tutis depone in auribus’. Whichever it is, endeavor to shine and excel in it. Aim at least at the perfection of everything that is worth doing at all; and you will come nearer it than you would imagine; but those always crawl infinitely short of it whose aim is only mediocrity. Adieu.
If you’ve promised anyone one of those eternal passions that I’ve occasionally seen last three months by sheer chance, I can tell you that without great attention, endless politeness, and an engaging demeanor, the signs will be unfavorable, and the goddess won’t be on your side. Please tell me, what are the activities at those gatherings? Is it a little bit of commerce, some music, some 'good conversation,' or all three? Is there perfect love going on? Are they sharing deep sentiments? Or are they just talking in epigrams? And which area do you focus on? "Put it in your ears." Whatever it is, try to stand out and excel in it. Aim at achieving at least the perfection of everything worth doing at all; and you’ll get closer to it than you might think; but those who aim for only mediocrity will always fall short. Goodbye.
P. S. By an uncommon diligence of the post, I have this moment received yours of the 9th, N. S.
P.S. Thanks to the unusual effort of the postal service, I just received your message from the 9th, N.S.
LETTER LXXXVII
LONDON, October 24, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: By my last I only acknowledged, by this I answer, your letter of the 9th October, N. S.
DEAR BOY: In my last message, I only acknowledged your letter; in this one, I’m responding to your letter from October 9th, N. S.
I am very glad that you approved of my letter of September the 12th, O. S., because it is upon that footing that I always propose living with you. I will advise you seriously, as a friend of some experience, and I will converse with you cheerfully as a companion; the authority of a parent shall forever be laid aside; for, wherever it is exerted, it is useless; since, if you have neither sense nor sentiments enough to follow my advice as a friend, your unwilling obedience to my orders as a father will be a very awkward and unavailing one both to yourself and me. Tacitus, speaking of an army that awkwardly and unwillingly obeyed its generals only from the fear of punishment, says, they obeyed indeed, ‘Sed ut qua mallent jussa Imperatorum interpretari, quam exequi’. For my own part, I disclaim such obedience.
I’m really happy you liked my letter from September 12, O. S., because that’s how I want to live with you. As a friend with some experience, I’ll give you solid advice, and I’ll chat with you happily as a companion; I’ll set aside any parental authority. It’s useless when it’s used because if you don’t have the sense or feelings to take my advice as a friend, then obeying me as a father will just be uncomfortable and won’t help either of us. Tacitus talks about an army that reluctantly obeyed its generals out of fear of punishment, saying they obeyed indeed, ‘Sed ut qua mallent jussa Imperatorum interpretari, quam exequi’. For my part, I reject that kind of obedience.
You think, I find, that you do not understand Italian; but I can tell you, that, like the ‘Bourgeois Gentilhomme’, who spoke prose without knowing it, you understand a great deal, though you do not know that you do; for whoever understands French and Latin so well as you do, understands at least half the Italian language, and has very little occasion for a dictionary. And for the idioms, the phrases, and the delicacies of it, conversation and a little attention will teach them you, and that soon; therefore, pray speak it in company, right or wrong, ‘a tort ou a travers’, as soon as ever you have got words enough to ask a common question, or give a common answer. If you can only say ‘buon giorno’, say it, instead of saying ‘bon jour’, I mean to every Italian; the answer to it will teach you more words, and insensibly you will be very soon master of that easy language. You are quite right in not neglecting your German for it, and in thinking that it will be of more use to you; it certainly will, in the course of your business; but Italian has its use too, and is an ornament into the bargain; there being many very polite and good authors in that language. The reason you assign for having hitherto met with none of my swarms of Germans in Italy, is a very solid one; and I can easily conceive, that the expense necessary for a traveler must amount to a number of thalers, groschen, and kreutzers, tremendous to a German fortune. However, you will find several at Rome, either ecclesiastics, or in the suite of the Imperial Minister; and more, when you come into the Milanese, among the Queen of Hungary’s officers. Besides, you have a Saxon servant, to whom I hope you speak nothing but German.
You think, I believe, that you don't understand Italian; but I can tell you that, like the 'Bourgeois Gentilhomme,' who spoke prose without realizing it, you actually understand a lot, even if you don’t know it. Anyone who understands French and Latin as well as you do understands at least half of Italian and doesn’t need a dictionary often. For the idioms, phrases, and subtleties, conversation and a bit of attention will teach you those quickly; so please speak it around others, whether you get it right or wrong, ‘a tort ou a travers’, as soon as you have enough words to ask a basic question or give a simple answer. If you can only say ‘buon giorno’, say it instead of ‘bon jour’ to every Italian; their response will teach you more words, and before you know it, you’ll be fluent in that easy language. You're absolutely right to not neglect your German for it, thinking it will be more useful; it definitely will be for your work. But Italian is also useful and adds charm, as there are many polite and good authors in that language. The reason you give for not encountering any of my many Germans in Italy so far is very valid; I can easily imagine that the travel costs must be quite a few thalers, groschen, and kreutzers, which is a lot for a German budget. However, you'll find several in Rome, either clergy or associated with the Imperial Minister, and even more in the Milanese among the Queen of Hungary’s officials. Besides, you have a Saxon servant, whom I hope you speak to only in German.
I have had the most obliging letter in the world from Monsieur Capello, in which he speaks very advantageously of you, and promises you his protection at Rome. I have wrote him an answer by which I hope I have domesticated you at his hotel there; which I advise you to frequent as much as you can. ‘Il est vrai qui’il ne paie pas beaucaup de sa figure’; but he has sense and knowledge at bottom, with a great experience of business, having been already Ambassador at Madrid, Vienna, and London. And I am very sure that he will be willing to give you any informations, in that way, that he can.
I recently received the kindest letter from Monsieur Capello, in which he speaks highly of you and offers his support in Rome. I’ve written him a response, hoping to secure your stay at his hotel there, and I suggest you visit as often as possible. "It’s true that he doesn’t pay much attention to appearances"; however, he has real insight and knowledge, along with extensive experience, having already served as Ambassador in Madrid, Vienna, and London. I’m confident he will be happy to share any information you need.
Madame was a capricious, whimsical, fine lady, till the smallpox, which she got here, by lessening her beauty, lessened her humors too; but, as I presume it did not change her sex, I trust to that for her having such a share of them left, as may contribute to smooth and polish you. She, doubtless, still thinks that she has beauty enough remaining to entitle her to the attentions always paid to beauty; and she has certainly rank enough to require respect. Those are the sort of women who polish a young man the most, and who give him that habit of complaisance, and that flexibility and versatility of manners which prove of great use to him with men, and in the course of business.
Madame was a fickle, whimsical, classy lady until she caught smallpox here, which took away some of her beauty and her cheerful nature too. However, since it didn’t change her gender, I hope she still has enough charm left to help polish you. She probably still believes she has enough beauty to deserve the attention that’s always given to attractive people, and she definitely has enough status to demand respect. These are the kinds of women who refine a young man the most, instilling in him a habit of politeness and a flexibility in his manners that will be incredibly useful in dealing with others and in his professional life.
You must always expect to hear, more or less, from me, upon that important subject of manners, graces, address, and that undefinable ‘je ne sais quoi’ that ever pleases. I have reason to believe that you want nothing else; but I have reason to fear too, that you want those: and that want will keep you poor in the midst of all the plenty of knowledge which you may have treasured up. Adieu.
You should always expect to hear from me, more or less, about the important topics of manners, charm, presence, and that elusive 'je ne sais quoi' that is always appealing. I have reason to believe that you desire nothing else; however, I also fear that you need those things, and that need will leave you lacking despite all the knowledge you may have accumulated. Goodbye.
LETTER LXXXVIII
LONDON, November 3, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: From the time that you have had life, it has been the principle and favorite object of mine, to make you as perfect as the imperfections of human nature will allow: in this view, I have grudged no pains nor expense in your education; convinced that education, more than nature, is the cause of that great difference which you see in the characters of men. While you were a child, I endeavored to form your heart habitually to virtue and honor, before your understanding was capable of showing you their beauty and utility. Those principles, which you then got, like your grammar rules, only by rote, are now, I am persuaded, fixed and confirmed by reason. And indeed they are so plain and clear, that they require but a very moderate degree of understanding, either to comprehend or practice them. Lord Shaftesbury says, very prettily, that he would be virtuous for his own sake, though nobody were to know it; as he would be clean for his own sake, though nobody were to see him. I have therefore, since you have had the use of your reason, never written to you upon those subjects: they speak best for themselves; and I should now just as soon think of warning you gravely not to fall into the dirt or the fire, as into dishonor or vice. This view of mine, I consider as fully attained. My next object was sound and useful learning. My own care first, Mr. Harte’s afterward, and OF LATE (I will own it to your praise) your own application, have more than answered my expectations in that particular; and, I have reason to believe, will answer even my wishes. All that remains for me then to wish, to recommend, to inculcate, to order, and to insist upon, is good-breeding; without which, all your other qualifications will be lame, unadorned, and to a certain degree unavailing. And here I fear, and have too much reason to believe, that you are greatly deficient. The remainder of this letter, therefore, shall be (and it will not be the last by a great many) upon that subject.
DEAR BOY: Since the moment you were born, my main goal and favorite aim has been to make you as perfect as human nature allows. To that end, I have not hesitated to put in time and effort, as well as spend money on your education, believing that education shapes people more than their natural traits. While you were growing up, I tried to instill in you the values of virtue and honor before you could understand their value. The principles you learned back then, like your grammar rules, may have been memorized, but I believe they are now solidly rooted in your reasoning. They are so clear and straightforward that a reasonable person can easily grasp and practice them. Lord Shaftesbury beautifully noted that he would act virtuously for his own sake, even if no one knew, just as he would keep himself clean, even if no one could see. Therefore, since you’ve developed your reasoning skills, I haven’t addressed those subjects in writing; they speak for themselves. I would find it just as necessary to remind you not to fall into dirt or fire as to caution you against dishonor or vice. I consider that goal achieved. My next focus was practical and meaningful learning. Thanks to my initial efforts, Mr. Harte’s guidance later, and your own hard work (which I commend), you have exceeded my expectations in this area, and I believe you’ll even fulfill my wishes. What remains for me to wish, recommend, stress, insist upon, and emphasize is good manners; without them, all your other skills will be unpolished, incomplete, and somewhat ineffective. Here, I'm afraid, and I have good reason to think, that you are lacking significantly. Therefore, the rest of this letter (and it won't be the last one) will focus on that topic.
A friend of yours and mine has very justly defined good-breeding to be, THE RESULT OF MUCH GOOD SENSE, SOME GOOD NATURE, AND A LITTLE SELF-DENIAL FOR THE SAKE OF OTHERS, AND WITH A VIEW TO OBTAIN THE SAME INDULGENCE FROM THEM. Taking this for granted (as I think it cannot be disputed), it is astonishing to me that anybody who has good sense and good nature (and I believe you have both), can essentially fail in good-breeding. As to the modes of it, indeed, they vary according to persons, and places, and circumstances; and are only to be acquired by observation and experience: but the substance of it is everywhere and eternally the same. Good manners are, to particular societies, what good morals are to society in general; their cement and their security. And, as laws are enacted to enforce good morals, or at least to prevent the ill effects of bad ones; so there are certain rules of civility, universally implied and received, to enforce good manners and punish bad ones. And, indeed, there seems to me to be less difference, both between the crimes and between the punishments than at first one would imagine. The immoral man, who invades another man’s property, is justly hanged for it; and the ill-bred man, who, by his ill-manners, invades and disturbs the quiet and comforts of private life, is by common consent as justly banished society. Mutual complaisances, attentions, and sacrifices of little conveniences, are as natural an implied compact between civilized people, as protection and obedience are between kings and subjects; whoever, in either case, violates that compact, justly forfeits all advantages arising from it. For my own part, I really think, that next to the consciousness of doing a good action, that of doing a civil one is the most pleasing; and the epithet which I should covet the most, next to that of Aristides, would be that of well-bred. Thus much for good-breeding in general; I will now consider some of the various modes and degrees of it.
A friend of ours has rightly defined good manners as THE RESULT OF A LOT OF COMMON SENSE, SOME GOOD NATURE, AND A LITTLE SELF-DENIAL FOR THE SAKE OF OTHERS, WITH THE HOPE OF GETTING THE SAME CONSIDERATION IN RETURN. Taking this as given (which I think is hard to dispute), it's astonishing to me that anyone with good sense and good nature (and I believe you have both) can really lack good manners. As for how good manners manifest, they do vary depending on the person, the place, and the situation; and they can only be learned through observation and experience. However, their essence is universally and eternally the same. Good manners are to specific social groups what good morals are to society as a whole; they are the glue and the assurance. Just as laws are made to enforce good morals or at least to prevent the negative effects of bad ones, there are certain rules of civility that are universally understood and accepted to promote good manners and penalize bad ones. In fact, I believe there’s less difference between the offenses and the punishments than one might initially think. The immoral person who trespasses on someone else's property is justly punished, and the rude person who disrupts the peace and comfort of private life is, by common agreement, justly excluded from society. Mutual politeness, attentiveness, and small sacrifices of personal convenience are as natural an unspoken agreement between civilized individuals as protection and obedience are between rulers and their subjects; anyone who violates that agreement rightly loses the benefits that come from it. Personally, I believe that next to the satisfaction of doing something good, the joy of behaving courteously is the most rewarding. The title I would desire most, after that of Aristides, would be “well-mannered.” That’s my take on good manners in general; now I’ll discuss some of the different ways and levels of it.
Very few, scarcely any, are wanting in the respect which they should show to those whom they acknowledge to be infinitely their superiors; such as crowned heads, princes, and public persons of distinguished and eminent posts. It is the manner of showing that respect which is different. The man of fashion and of the world, expresses it in its fullest extent; but naturally, easily, and without concern: whereas a man, who is not used to keep good company, expresses it awkwardly; one sees that he is not used to it, and that it costs him a great deal: but I never saw the worst-bred man living guilty of lolling, whistling, scratching his head, and such-like indecencies, in company that he respected. In such companies, therefore, the only point to be attended to is to show that respect, which everybody means to show, in an easy, unembarrassed, and graceful manner. This is what observation and experience must teach you.
Very few people, hardly any, lack the respect they should show to those they recognize as far superior to them, like kings, princes, and prominent public figures. The way they show that respect varies. A fashionable and worldly person conveys it fully, but naturally, effortlessly, and without any worry. On the other hand, someone who isn’t accustomed to high society expresses it awkwardly; you can tell they aren’t used to it, and it seems very hard for them. However, I’ve never seen even the rudest person behave inappropriately—like lounging, whistling, or scratching their head—around someone they respect. In these situations, the key is to demonstrate that respect, which everyone intends to convey, in a relaxed, confident, and graceful way. This is what observation and experience will teach you.
In mixed companies, whoever is admitted to make part of them, is, for the time at least, supposed to be upon a footing of equality with the rest: and consequently, as there is no one principal object of awe and respect, people are apt to take a greater latitude in their behavior, and to be less upon their guard; and so they may, provided it be within certain bounds, which are upon no occasion to be transgressed. But, upon these occasions, though no one is entitled to distinguished marks of respect, everyone claims, and very justly, every mark of civility and good-breeding. Ease is allowed, but carelessness and negligence are strictly forbidden. If a man accosts you, and talks to you ever so dully or frivolously, it is worse than rudeness, it is brutality, to show him, by a manifest inattention to what he says, that you think him a fool or a blockhead, and not worth hearing. It is much more so with regard to women; who, of whatever rank they are, are entitled, in consideration of their sex, not only to an attentive, but an officious good-breeding from men. Their little wants, likings, dislikes, preferences, antipathies, fancies, whims, and even impertinencies, must be officiously attended to, flattered, and, if possible, guessed at and anticipated by a well-bred man. You must never usurp to yourself those conveniences and ‘agremens’ which are of common right; such as the best places, the best dishes, etc., but on the contrary, always decline them yourself, and offer them to others; who, in their turns, will offer them to you; so that, upon the whole, you will in your turn enjoy your share of the common right. It would be endless for me to enumerate all the particular instances in which a well-bred man shows his good-breeding in good company; and it would be injurious to you to suppose that your own good sense will not point them out to you; and then your own good-nature will recommend, and your self-interest enforce the practice.
In mixed company, anyone who is allowed to join is assumed, at least for the time being, to be on equal footing with everyone else. Consequently, since there isn't one main person to respect or be in awe of, people tend to behave more freely and let their guard down; and they can do so, as long as it's within certain limits that should never be crossed. However, even in these situations, while no one is owed special respect, everyone rightly expects basic civility and good manners. Casualness is acceptable, but carelessness and neglect are not. If someone approaches you and engages you in a dull or trivial conversation, it's worse than being rude; it's outright brutal to show, through blatant inattention, that you consider him a fool or unworthy of your time. This is even more critical when it comes to women, who, regardless of their social standing, deserve not only attention but also a polite courtesy from men because of their gender. Their small needs, preferences, dislikes, and even their little quirks should be attentively acknowledged, flattered, and if possible, anticipated by a well-mannered man. You should never claim the privileges that are meant for everyone, like the best seats or dishes; instead, you should always defer those to others, who will then reciprocate, allowing you, in turn, to enjoy your share of common courtesy. It would be too extensive to list all the ways a well-mannered person demonstrates his good breeding in a pleasant environment, and it wouldn't do you justice to assume your own good judgment won't identify them; plus, your naturally considerate nature will suggest them, and your self-interest will encourage you to practice them.
There is a third sort of good-breeding, in which people are the most apt to fail, from a very mistaken notion that they cannot fail at all. I mean with regard to one’s most familiar friends and acquaintances, or those who really are our inferiors; and there, undoubtedly, a greater degree of ease is not only allowed, but proper, and contributes much to the comforts of a private, social life. But that ease and freedom have their bounds too, which must by no means be violated. A certain degree of negligence and carelessness becomes injurious and insulting, from the real or supposed inferiority of the persons: and that delightful liberty of conversation among a few friends is soon destroyed, as liberty often has been, by being carried to licentiousness. But example explains things best, and I will put a pretty strong case. Suppose you and me alone together; I believe you will allow that I have as good a right to unlimited freedom in your company, as either you or I can possibly have in any other; and I am apt to believe too, that you would indulge me in that freedom as far as anybody would. But, notwithstanding this, do you imagine that I should think there were no bounds to that freedom? I assure you, I should not think so; and I take myself to be as much tied down by a certain degree of good manners to you, as by other degrees of them to other people. Were I to show you, by a manifest inattention to what you said to me, that I was thinking of something else the whole time; were I to yawn extremely, snore, or break wind in your company, I should think that I behaved myself to you like a beast, and should not expect that you would care to frequent me. No. The most familiar and intimate habitudes, connections, and friendships, require a degree of good-breeding, both to preserve and cement them. If ever a man and his wife, or a man and his mistress, who pass nights as well as days together, absolutely lay aside all good-breeding, their intimacy will soon degenerate into a coarse familiarity, infallibly productive of contempt or disgust. The best of us have our bad sides, and it is as imprudent, as it is ill-bred, to exhibit them. I shall certainly not use ceremony with you; it would be misplaced between us: but I shall certainly observe that degree of good-breeding with you, which is, in the first place, decent, and which I am sure is absolutely necessary to make us like one another’s company long.
There’s a third kind of good manners where people are most likely to mess up, based on the mistaken belief that they can’t fail at all. I’m talking about how we act with our closest friends and acquaintances, or those who are genuinely our inferiors; in these situations, a certain level of comfort is not just acceptable but also appropriate, adding to the pleasures of our social lives. However, that comfort and freedom have their limits, which should never be crossed. A level of neglect and carelessness can become harmful and insulting because of the real or perceived inferiority of others. That enjoyable freedom of conversation among a few friends can quickly turn sour, as freedom frequently does, when it slips into rudeness. But examples clarify things best, so let’s consider a pretty strong scenario. Imagine it’s just you and me together; I think you’d agree that I have as much right to complete freedom in your presence as either of us would in any other situation. I also believe you would allow me that freedom just like anyone else would. But despite this, do you think I would believe there are no limits to that freedom? I assure you, I wouldn’t think that. I feel just as bound by a certain level of good manners to you as I am to others. If I were to show you blatant inattention while you’re talking to me, as if I’m thinking about something else the whole time; if I were to yawn excessively, snore, or pass gas while you’re around, I’d consider that I was behaving like an animal, and I wouldn’t expect you to want to hang out with me again. No. The closest relationships, connections, and friendships require a degree of good manners to maintain and strengthen them. If a man and his wife, or a man and his mistress, who spend both nights and days together completely disregard all good manners, their closeness will soon turn into an unpleasant familiarity that leads to contempt or disgust. We all have our flaws, and it’s both reckless and rude to put them on display. I won’t use formalities with you; that would be out of place between us. But I will certainly maintain a level of good manners with you that is, first and foremost, decent, and which I believe is crucial for us to genuinely enjoy each other’s company over time.
I will say no more, now, upon this important subject of good-breeding, upon which I have already dwelt too long, it may be, for one letter; and upon which I shall frequently refresh your memory hereafter; but I will conclude with these axioms:
I won’t say anything more right now about the important topic of good manners, which I may have already covered too much for one letter. I’ll remind you of it often in the future, but I’ll wrap up with these key points:
That the deepest learning, without good-breeding, is unwelcome and tiresome pedantry, and of use nowhere but in a man’s own closet; and consequently of little or no use at all.
That the deepest learning, without good manners, is unwelcome and annoying pedantry, and is useful nowhere but in a person’s own space; and therefore has little or no value at all.
That a man, Who is not perfectly well-bred, is unfit for good company and unwelcome in it; will consequently dislike it soon, afterward renounce it; and be reduced to solitude, or, what is worse, low and bad company.
A man who lacks proper manners is not suited for good company and will feel unwelcome. As a result, he will quickly come to dislike it and eventually give it up, ending up in solitude or, even worse, among low and undesirable company.
That a man who is not well-bred, is full as unfit for business as for company.
A man who is poorly mannered is just as unfit for business as he is for social situations.
Make then, my dear child, I conjure you, good-breeding the great object of your thoughts and actions, at least half the day. Observe carefully the behavior and manners of those who are distinguished by their good-breeding; imitate, nay, endeavor to excel, that you may at least reach them; and be convinced that good-breeding is, to all worldly qualifications, what charity is to all Christian virtues. Observe how it adorns merit, and how often it covers the want of it. May you wear it to adorn, and not to cover you! Adieu.
So, my dear child, I urge you to make good manners the main focus of your thoughts and actions for at least part of the day. Pay close attention to the behavior and etiquette of those who are recognized for their good manners; try to imitate them and even strive to surpass them, so you can at least reach their level. Understand that good manners are to all worldly qualities what charity is to all Christian virtues. Notice how it enhances merit and how often it hides a lack of it. I hope you use it to enhance yourself, not to hide who you are! Goodbye.
LETTER LXXXIX
LONDON, November 14, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: There is a natural good-breeding which occurs to every man of common sense, and is practiced by every man, of common good-nature. This good-breeding is general, independent of modes, and consists in endeavors to please and oblige our fellow-creatures by all good offices, short of moral duties. This will be practiced by a good-natured American savage, as essentially as by the best-bred European. But then, I do not take it to extend to the sacrifice of our own conveniences, for the sake of other people’s. Utility introduced this sort of good-breeding as it introduced commerce; and established a truck of the little ‘agremens’ and pleasures of life. I sacrifice such a conveniency to you, you sacrifice another to me; this commerce circulates, and every individual finds his account in it upon the whole. The third sort of good-breeding is local, and is variously modified, in not only different countries, but in different towns of the same country. But it must be founded upon the two former sorts; they are the matter to which, in this case, fashion and custom only give the different shapes and impressions. Whoever has the two first sorts will easily acquire this third sort of good-breeding, which depends singly upon attention and observation. It is, properly, the polish, the lustre, the last finishing stroke of good-breeding. It is to be found only in capitals, and even there it varies; the good-breeding of Rome differing, in some things, from that of Paris; that of Paris, in others, from that of Madrid; and that of Madrid, in many things, from that of London. A man of sense, therefore, carefully attends to the local manners of the respective places where he is, and takes for his models those persons whom he observes to be at the head of fashion and good-breeding. He watches how they address themselves to their superiors, how they accost their equals, and how they treat their inferiors; and lets none of those little niceties escape him which are to good-breeding what the last delicate and masterly touches are to a good picture; and of which the vulgar have no notion, but by which good judges distinguish the master. He attends even to their air, dress, and motions, and imitates them, liberally, and not servilely; he copies, but does not mimic. These personal graces are of very great consequence. They anticipate the sentiments, before merit can engage the understanding; they captivate the heart, and give rise, I believe, to the extravagant notions of charms and philters. Their effects were so surprising, that they were reckoned supernatural. The most graceful and best-bred men, and the handsomest and genteelest women, give the most philters; and, as I verily believe, without the least assistance of the devil. Pray be not only well dressed, but shining in your dress; let it have ‘du brillant’. I do not mean by a clumsy load of gold and silver, but by the taste and fashion of it. The women like and require it; they think it an attention due to them; but, on the other hand, if your motions and carriage are not graceful, genteel, and natural, your fine clothes will only display your awkwardness the more. But I am unwilling to suppose you still awkward; for surely, by this time, you must have catched a good air in good company. When you went from hence you were naturally awkward; but your awkwardness was adventitious and Westmonasterial. Leipsig, I apprehend, is not the seat of the Graces; and I presume you acquired none there. But now, if you will be pleased to observe what people of the first fashion do with their legs and arms, heads and bodies, you will reduce yours to certain decent laws of motion. You danced pretty well here, and ought to dance very well before you come home; for what one is obliged to do sometimes, one ought to be able to do well. Besides, ‘la belle danse donne du brillant a un jeune homme’. And you should endeavor to shine. A calm serenity, negative merit and graces, do not become your age. You should be ‘alerte, adroit, vif’; be wanted, talked of, impatiently expected, and unwillingly parted with in company. I should be glad to hear half a dozen women of fashion say, ‘Ou est donc le petit Stanhope? due ne vient-il? Il faut avouer qu’il est aimable’. All this I do not mean singly with regard to women as the principal object; but, with regard to men, and with a view of your making yourself considerable. For with very small variations, the same things that please women please men; and a man whose manners are softened and polished by women of fashion, and who is formed by them to an habitual attention and complaisance, will please, engage, and connect men, much easier and more than he would otherwise. You must be sensible that you cannot rise in the world, without forming connections, and engaging different characters to conspire in your point. You must make them your dependents without their knowing it, and dictate to them while you seem to be directed by them. Those necessary connections can never be formed, or preserved, but by an uninterrupted series of complaisance, attentions, politeness, and some constraint. You must engage their hearts, if you would have their support; you must watch the ‘mollia tempora’, and captivate them by the ‘agremens’ and charms of conversation. People will not be called out to your service, only when you want them; and, if you expect to receive strength from them, they must receive either pleasure or advantage from you.
DEAR BOY: There’s a natural good manners that every sensible person practices, and it’s often seen in those who are kind-hearted. This good manners is universal, not tied to specific customs, and involves trying to please and help others by doing good deeds, as long as it doesn't conflict with morals. A kind-hearted American native will show this kind of good manners just as much as a well-bred European. However, I don’t believe it should require sacrificing our own comfort for others. This kind of good manners arose from practicality, just like commerce, creating a trade of the little comforts and joys in life. I give up a convenience for you, and you give up one for me; this exchange keeps going, and in the end, everyone benefits. The third type of good manners is more specific to places, varying not just between different countries but also among different cities within the same country. It should be based on the first two kinds; they provide the foundation, while fashion and custom shape its outward appearance. Anyone who has mastered the first two kinds will easily pick up this third kind, which relies on attention and observation. It’s really the polish, the shine, the final touches of good manners. You can mainly find it in major cities, and even there it differs; the manners in Rome can be different from those in Paris, Paris’ from Madrid, and Madrid’s from London. So, someone with good sense pays close attention to the local customs wherever they are and looks to the people who are considered stylish and well-mannered as examples. They observe how these individuals interact with their superiors, how they talk to their peers, and how they treat those beneath them, noticing all the little details that are to good manners what fine details are to a great painting — things that the average person might overlook, but that discerning judges use to recognize the master. They even pay attention to their demeanor, clothing, and movements, imitating them freely, but not in a way that seems forced; they copy without imitating. These personal traits are incredibly important. They convey sentiments before someone's abilities can engage the mind; they charm the heart and likely contribute to the ideas of magic and allure. Their impact can be so astonishing that they seem almost supernatural. The most graceful and well-mannered men and the most beautiful and sophisticated women create the strongest charm, and I believe it’s without any supernatural help. Please don’t just dress well, but let your style shine; let it have ‘du brillant’. I’m not suggesting a heavy load of gold and silver but stylishness and flair. Women appreciate and expect this; they see it as a sign of respect. However, if your movements and demeanor aren’t graceful, stylish, and natural, your fine clothes will only highlight your awkwardness. But I hesitate to think you’re still awkward; you surely must have picked up some grace by now. When you left here, you were naturally a bit awkward, but that was due to your surroundings. Leipzig, I believe, isn’t exactly where you’ll find grace, so I doubt you picked any up there. But now, if you observe what fashionable people do with their arms, legs, heads, and bodies, you will bring yours into more appropriate movements. You danced quite well here, and you should be able to dance very well before you come back; if you must occasionally do something, you should be able to do it well. Plus, ‘la belle danse donne du brillant a un jeune homme’. You should strive to shine in social settings. A calm, laid-back demeanor doesn't suit your age; you should be alert, clever, lively; be sought after, talked about, eagerly anticipated, and reluctantly let go when in company. I would love to hear several fashionable women say, ‘Where is the little Stanhope? Why isn’t he here? We must admit he’s charming.’ I don’t solely mean this in relation to women as the main focus; it’s also about impressing men and making yourself significant. With only slight variations, what pleases women also pleases men; and a man whose manners have been refined by fashionable women, who has developed a habit of attentiveness and niceness, will please, engage, and connect with men much more easily than he otherwise would. You must understand that you cannot advance in the world without forming connections and getting various characters to collaborate for your goals. You should make them depend on you without them realizing it and guide them while appearing to be guided by them. These essential connections can only be formed or maintained through a continuous exchange of kindness, attention, politeness, and a bit of restraint. You need to win their hearts if you want their support; you must seize the 'mollia tempora' and captivate them with the charms and delights of conversation. People won’t respond to your call to service only when you need them; if you want to gain strength from them, they must gain some enjoyment or benefit from you.
I received in this instant a letter from Mr. Harte, of the 2d N. S., which I will answer soon; in the meantime, I return him my thanks for it, through you. The constant good accounts which he gives me of you, will make me suspect him of partiality, and think him ‘le medecin tant mieux’. Consider, therefore, what weight any future deposition of his against you must necessarily have with me. As, in that case, he will be a very unwilling, he must consequently be a very important witness. Adieu!
I just received a letter from Mr. Harte of the 2d N. S., and I'll respond soon; in the meantime, please thank him for me. The positive updates he gives me about you make me think he might be biased and consider him ‘the doctor so much the better’. So, keep in mind how much any future testimony from him against you will weigh with me. If that happens, he will be a very reluctant but also an important witness. Goodbye!
LETTER XC
DEAR Boy: My last was upon the subject of good-breeding; but I think it rather set before you the unfitness and disadvantages of ill-breeding, than the utility and necessity of good; it was rather negative than positive. This, therefore, should go further, and explain to you the necessity, which you, of all people living, lie under, not only of being positively and actively well-bred, but of shining and distinguishing yourself by your good-breeding. Consider your own situation in every particular, and judge whether it is not essentially your interest, by your own good-breeding to others, to secure theirs to you and that, let me assure you, is the only way of doing it; for people will repay, and with interest too, inattention with inattention, neglect with neglect, and ill manners with worse: which may engage you in very disagreeable affairs. In the next place, your profession requires, more than any other, the nicest and most distinguished good-breeding. You will negotiate with very little success, if you do not previously, by your manners, conciliate and engage the affections of those with whom you are to negotiate. Can you ever get into the confidence and the secrets of the courts where you may happen to reside, if you have not those pleasing, insinuating manners, which alone can procure them? Upon my word, I do not say too much, when I say that superior good-breeding, insinuating manners, and genteel address, are half your business. Your knowledge will have but very little influence upon the mind, if your manners prejudice the heart against you; but, on the other hand, how easily will you DUPE the understanding, where you have first engaged the heart? and hearts are by no means to be gained by that mere common civility which everybody practices. Bowing again to those who bow to you, answering dryly those who speak to you, and saying nothing offensive to anybody, is such negative good-breeding that it is only not being a brute; as it would be but a very poor commendation of any man’s cleanliness to say that he did not stink. It is an active, cheerful, officious, seducing, good-breeding that must gain you the good-will and first sentiments of men, and the affections of the women. You must carefully watch and attend to their passions, their tastes, their little humors and weaknesses, and ‘aller au devant’. You must do it at the same time with alacrity and ‘empressement’, and not as if you graciously condescended to humor their weaknesses.
DEAR Boy: My last message was about good manners, but I think it focused more on the drawbacks and disadvantages of bad manners rather than emphasizing the benefits and importance of good ones. It was more about what not to do than what to do. So, I want to go further and explain the necessity you, more than anyone else, have to not just be well-mannered, but to truly stand out and shine with your good manners. Think about your situation in every aspect and see if it’s not in your best interest to secure the goodwill of others by treating them well, and trust me, that’s the only way to do it. People will return inattention with inattention, neglect with neglect, and rudeness with even worse behavior, which can lead to very unpleasant situations. Furthermore, your profession requires the highest level of good manners more than any other. You will have very little success negotiating if you don’t first win over the affections of those you’re dealing with through your behavior. Can you ever earn the trust and secrets of the courts where you may be working if you lack those charming, persuasive manners that are essential for it? Honestly, I’m not exaggerating when I say that being exceptionally well-mannered, charming, and polite is half the battle. Your knowledge will have very little impact if your behavior turns people against you; on the other hand, how easily can you influence someone’s understanding once you’ve won their heart? And hearts are not gained through mere common courtesy that everyone practices. Simply bowing to those who bow to you, responding curtly to those who speak to you, and avoiding offending anyone is such minimal good manners that it’s only a step above being a brute. It would be a poor compliment to say a person is clean just because they don’t smell bad. It’s an active, cheerful, attentive, and engaging approach to manners that will win you the goodwill and initial affections of men and women alike. You must pay careful attention to their feelings, preferences, little quirks, and weaknesses, and be proactive about it. You should do this with enthusiasm and eagerness, not as if you are graciously lowering yourself to accommodate their flaws.
For instance, suppose you invited anybody to dine or sup with you, you ought to recollect if you had observed that they had any favorite dish, and take care to provide it for them; and when it came you should say, You SEEMED TO ME, AT SUCH AND SUCH A PLACE, TO GIVE THIS DISH A PREFERENCE, AND THEREFORE I ORDERED IT; THIS IS THE WINE THAT I OBSERVED YOU LIKED, AND THEREFORE I PROCURED SOME. The more trifling these things are, the more they prove your attention for the person, and are consequently the more engaging. Consult your own breast, and recollect how these little attentions, when shown you by others, flatter that degree of self-love and vanity from which no man living is free. Reflect how they incline and attract you to that person, and how you are propitiated afterward to all which that person says or does. The same causes will have the same effects in your favor. Women, in a great degree, establish or destroy every man’s reputation of good-breeding; you must, therefore, in a manner, overwhelm them with these attentions: they are used to them, they expect them, and, to do them justice, they commonly requite them. You must be sedulous, and rather over officious than under, in procuring them their coaches, their chairs, their conveniences in public places: not see what you should not see; and rather assist, where you cannot help seeing. Opportunities of showing these attentions present themselves perpetually; but if they do not, make them. As Ovid advises his lover, when he sits in the Circus near his mistress, to wipe the dust off her neck, even if there be none: ‘Si nullus, tamen excute nullum’. Your conversation with women should always be respectful; but, at the same time, enjoue, and always addressed to their vanity. Everything you say or do should convince them of the regard you have (whether you have it or not) for their beauty, their wit, or their merit. Men have possibly as much vanity as women, though of another kind; and both art and good-breeding require, that, instead of mortifying, you should please and flatter it, by words and looks of approbation. Suppose (which is by no means improbable) that, at your return to England, I should place you near the person of some one of the royal family; in that situation, good-breeding, engaging address, adorned with all the graces that dwell at courts, would very probably make you a favorite, and, from a favorite, a minister; but all the knowledge and learning in the world, without them, never would. The penetration of princes seldom goes deeper than the surface.
For example, if you invite someone to dinner or lunch, you should remember if you've noticed any of their favorite dishes and make sure to have it for them. When it arrives, you should say, "I noticed that you seemed to prefer this dish at that place, so I ordered it; this is the wine I remember you liked, so I got some." The more minor these gestures seem, the more they show your attentiveness to the person and make you more charming. Think about how these little attentions, when given to you by others, flatter your self-love and vanity, which everyone has to some degree. Notice how they draw you to that person and how you become more inclined to agree with what they say or do. The same principles will work in your favor. Women mostly determine a man's reputation for good manners; therefore, you should overwhelm them with these attentions. They are used to this kind of treatment, expect it, and generally reciprocate it. You need to be diligent, even more attentive than necessary, in helping them with their rides, seats, and comfort in public spaces: avoid seeing what you shouldn't see, and offer help where it's needed even if it's a little awkward. Opportunities to show these attentions come up all the time; if they don’t, create them. As Ovid advises his lover, when sitting in the circus near his sweetheart, to wipe the dust off her neck even if there's none: “If there is none, still wipe it off.” Your conversations with women should always be respectful, but also light-hearted and aimed at appealing to their vanity. Everything you say or do should convince them of your regard (whether genuine or not) for their beauty, wit, or talents. Men might have as much vanity as women, but it's a different type; both art and good manners require that, instead of putting them down, you should please and flatter them with approving words and looks. Imagine that, upon your return to England, I position you near someone from the royal family; in that setting, good manners and a charming demeanor, filled with all the courtesies of court life, could likely make you a favorite and then even a minister, but no amount of knowledge or learning would achieve that without them. The insight of royalty rarely goes beyond appearances.
It is the exterior that always engages their hearts; and I would never advise you to give yourself much trouble about their understanding. Princes in general (I mean those ‘Porphyrogenets’ who are born and bred in purple) are about the pitch of women; bred up like them, and are to be addressed and gained in the same manner. They always see, they seldom weigh. Your lustre, not your solidity, must take them; your inside will afterward support and secure what your outside has acquired. With weak people (and they undoubtedly are three parts in four of mankind) good-breeding, address, and manners are everything; they can go no deeper; but let me assure you that they are a great deal even with people of the best understandings. Where the eyes are not pleased, and the heart is not flattered, the mind will be apt to stand out. Be this right or wrong, I confess I am so made myself. Awkwardness and ill-breeding shock me to that degree, that where I meet with them, I cannot find in my heart to inquire into the intrinsic merit of that person—I hastily decide in myself that he can have none; and am not sure that I should not even be sorry to know that he had any. I often paint you in my imagination, in your present ‘lontananza’, and, while I view you in the light of ancient and modern learning, useful and ornamental knowledge, I am charmed with the prospect; but when I view you in another light, and represent you awkward, ungraceful, ill-bred, with vulgar air and manners, shambling toward me with inattention and DISTRACTIONS, I shall not pretend to describe to you what I feel; but will do as a skillful painter did formerly—draw a veil before the countenance of the father.
It's their appearance that always captures their hearts; I wouldn’t recommend stressing too much about whether they understand things. Generally, princes (I mean those 'Porphyrogenets’ who are born and raised in luxury) are at the level of women; they're raised similarly, and you need to approach and win them over in the same way. They notice things but rarely think deeply. It's your beauty, not your depth, that needs to impress them; your inner qualities will later support and reinforce what your outer appearance has gained. With weaker individuals (and they certainly make up three-quarters of humanity), politeness, charm, and good manners are everything; they can’t go any deeper. However, let me tell you that even people with the best understanding value these traits a lot. If the eyes aren't pleased and the heart isn't flattered, the mind is likely to resist. Whether that's right or wrong, I admit I’m just like that. Clumsiness and bad manners bother me so much that when I encounter them, I can't bring myself to look for the person's true worth—I quickly decide they must have none. I'm not even sure I would want to know if they did. I often picture you in my mind, in your current ‘lontananza’, and as I see you through the lens of ancient and modern knowledge, both practical and decorative, I'm thrilled by the vision; but when I see you in a different light, imagining you as awkward, ungraceful, rude, with a common demeanor and distracted attitude shambling toward me, I won't try to express what I feel; instead, I’ll do like a skilled painter did in the past—draw a veil over the face of the father.
I dare say you know already enough of architecture, to know that the Tuscan is the strongest and most solid of all the orders; but at the same time, it is the coarsest and clumsiest of them. Its solidity does extremely well for the foundation and base floor of a great edifice; but if the whole building be Tuscan, it will attract no eyes, it will stop no passengers, it will invite no interior examination; people will take it for granted that the finishing and furnishing cannot be worth seeing, where the front is so unadorned and clumsy. But if, upon the solid Tuscan foundation, the Doric, the Ionic, and the Corinthian orders rise gradually with all their beauty, proportions, and ornaments, the fabric seizes the most incurious eye, and stops the most careless passenger; who solicits admission as a favor, nay, often purchases it. Just so will it fare with your little fabric, which, at present, I fear, has more of the Tuscan than of the Corinthian order. You must absolutely change the whole front, or nobody will knock at the door. The several parts, which must compose this new front, are elegant, easy, natural, superior good-breeding; an engaging address; genteel motions; an insinuating softness in your looks, words, and actions; a spruce, lively air, fashionable dress; and all the glitter that a young fellow should have.
I suppose you already know enough about architecture to realize that the Tuscan style is the strongest and most solid of all the orders; however, it’s also the most basic and awkward. Its sturdiness works well for the foundation and ground floor of a large building, but if the entire structure is Tuscan, it won't catch anyone's eye, it won't stop passersby, and it won't encourage anyone to look inside; people will assume that the interior must not be worth seeing, given the plain and clumsy exterior. But if the solid Tuscan base is topped off with the beauty, proportions, and details of the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian styles, the building will capture even the most indifferent gaze and halt the most distracted passerby, who might then seek entry as a favor, or often even pay for it. The same will apply to your little project, which currently, I fear, leans more toward the Tuscan style than the Corinthian. You absolutely need to change the entire facade, or no one will come knocking at the door. The various elements that should make up this new facade include elegance, ease, natural charm, superior manners; a captivating presence; graceful movements; a subtle softness in your looks, words, and actions; a polished, lively demeanor; fashionable clothing; and all the flair that a young man should possess.
I am sure you would do a great deal for my sake; and therefore consider at your return here, what a disappointment and concern it would be to me, if I could not safely depute you to do the honors of my house and table; and if I should be ashamed to present you to those who frequent both. Should you be awkward, inattentive, and distrait, and happen to meet Mr. L——-at my table, the consequences of that meeting must be fatal; you would run your heads against each other, cut each other’s fingers, instead of your meat, or die by the precipitate infusion of scalding soup.
I'm sure you would do a lot for me, so please think about how disappointing and concerning it would be for me when you return if I couldn't rely on you to host at my home and take care of my guests. It would be embarrassing for me to introduce you to everyone who comes over. If you were awkward, inattentive, and distracted, and happened to run into Mr. L——- at my table, the results could be disastrous; you would clash with each other, accidentally injure your fingers instead of your food, or get burned by hot soup.
This is really so copious a subject, that there is no end of being either serious or ludicrous upon it. It is impossible, too, to enumerate or state to you the various cases in good-breeding; they are infinite; there is no situation or relation in the world so remote or so intimate, that does not require a degree of it. Your own good sense must point it out to you; your own good-nature must incline, and your interest prompt you to practice it; and observation and experience must give you the manner, the air and the graces which complete the whole.
This is such a vast topic that you can approach it seriously or jokingly without end. It's also impossible to list or define all the instances of good manners; they are countless. There's no situation or relationship, no matter how distant or close, that doesn't require some degree of it. Your own common sense will guide you; your natural inclination and personal interests will encourage you to practice it; and your observations and experiences will provide you with the style, demeanor, and charm that ties everything together.
This letter will hardly overtake you, till you are at or near Rome. I expect a great deal in every way from your six months’ stay there. My morning hopes are justly placed in Mr. Harte, and the masters he will give you; my evening ones, in the Roman ladies: pray be attentive to both. But I must hint to you, that the Roman ladies are not ‘les femmes savantes, et ne vous embrasseront point pour Pamour du Grec. They must have ‘ilgarbato, il leggiadro, it disinvolto, il lusinghiero, quel non so che, che piace, che alletta, che incanta’.
This letter will probably reach you only when you're in or near Rome. I expect a lot from your six-month stay there in every way. My morning hopes are placed correctly on Mr. Harte and the classes he will provide you; my evening hopes are on the Roman women: please pay attention to both. But I must warn you that the Roman women are not ‘les femmes savantes’ and won’t embrace you just for the love of Greek. They want ‘il garbato, il leggiadro, il disinvolto, il lusinghiero, quel non so che, che piace, che alletta, che incanta’.
I have often asserted, that the profoundest learning and the politest manners were by no means incompatible, though so seldom found united in the same person; and I have engaged myself to exhibit you, as a proof of the truth of this assertion. Should you, instead of that, happen to disprove me, the concern indeed would be mine, but the loss will be yours. Lord Bolingbroke is a strong instance on my side of the question; he joins to the deepest erudition, the most elegant politeness and good-breeding that ever any courtier and man of the world was adorned with. And Pope very justly called him “All-accomplished St. John,” with regard to his knowledge and his manners. He had, it is true, his faults; which proceeded from unbounded ambition, and impetuous passions; but they have now subsided by age and experience; and I can wish you nothing better than to be, what he is now, without being what he has been formerly. His address pre-engages, his eloquence persuades, and his knowledge informs all who approach him. Upon the whole, I do desire, and insist, that from after dinner till you go to bed, you make good-breeding, address, and manners, your serious object and your only care. Without them, you will be nobody; with them, you may be anything.
I’ve often said that the deepest knowledge and the finest manners can go hand in hand, even though they’re rarely found together in the same person. I’ve taken it upon myself to show you that this is true. If you happen to prove me wrong, it would be my concern, but the loss would be yours. Lord Bolingbroke is a strong example in my favor; he combines extensive knowledge with the most refined politeness and good manners that any courtier or worldly person could possess. Pope rightly referred to him as “All-accomplished St. John” due to his expertise and his demeanor. It's true he had his flaws, stemming from boundless ambition and intense passions, but those have faded with age and experience. I can only wish for you to be like what he is now, without having been what he was before. His presence captivates, his eloquence convinces, and his knowledge enlightens everyone who comes near him. Overall, I strongly urge you to focus on good manners, charm, and etiquette from after dinner until you go to bed. Without them, you’ll be nobody; with them, you can be anything.
Adieu, my dear child! My compliments to Mr. Harte.
Goodbye, my dear child! Please send my regards to Mr. Harte.
LETTER XCI
LONDON, November 24, O. S. 1749.
DEAR Boy: Every rational being (I take it for granted) proposes to himself some object more important than mere respiration and obscure animal existence. He desires to distinguish himself among his fellow-creatures; and, ‘alicui negotio intentus, prreclari facinoris, aut artis bonae, faman quaerit’. Caesar, when embarking in a storm, said, that it was not necessary he should live; but that it was absolutely necessary he should get to the place to which he was going. And Pliny leaves mankind this only alternative; either of doing what deserves to be written, or of writing what deserves to be read. As for those who do neither, ‘eorum vitam mortemque juxta aestumo; quoniam de utraque siletur’. You have, I am convinced, one or both of these objects in view; but you must know and use the necessary means, or your pursuit will be vain and frivolous. In either case, ‘Sapere est princihium et fons’; but it is by no means all. That knowledge must be adorned, it must have lustre as well as weight, or it will be oftener taken, for lead than for gold. Knowledge you have, and will have: I am easy upon that article. But my business, as your friend, is not to compliment you upon what you have, but to tell you with freedom what you want; and I must tell you plainly, that I fear you want everything but knowledge.
DEAR Boy: I assume every rational person has a goal that's more important than just breathing and a basic existence. They want to stand out among others; and, 'focused on some task, they seek fame through remarkable deeds or good art.' When Caesar faced a storm at sea, he said it wasn't essential for him to live; what mattered was reaching his destination. Pliny offers humanity this choice: either do something worth writing about or write something worth reading. For those who do neither, 'I value their life and death equally, since nothing is said about either.' I'm convinced you have one or both of these goals in mind, but you need to know how to achieve them, or your efforts will be pointless. In any case, 'Knowledge is the beginning and the source'; but it's far from everything. That knowledge needs to shine; it should have brilliance as well as substance, or it will often be seen as lead instead of gold. You have knowledge, and you'll continue to gain more: I'm not worried about that. However, as your friend, my job isn't to flatter you about what you already know, but to honestly tell you what you lack; and I must say clearly, I fear you lack everything except knowledge.
I have written to you so often, of late, upon good-breeding, address, ‘les manieres liantes’, the Graces, etc., that I shall confine this letter to another subject, pretty near akin to them, and which, I am sure, you are full as deficient in; I mean Style.
I have written to you so many times lately about manners, etiquette, 'les manieres liantes', the Graces, and so on, that I'll focus this letter on another topic that's closely related to those, and which I’m sure you also lack; I mean Style.
Style is the dress of thoughts; and let them be ever so just, if your style is homely, coarse, and vulgar, they will appear to as much disadvantage, and be as ill received as your person, though ever so well proportioned, would, if dressed in rags, dirt, and tatters. It is not every understanding that can judge of matter; but every ear can and does judge, more or less, of style: and were I either to speak or write to the public, I should prefer moderate matter, adorned with all the beauties and elegancies of style, to the strongest matter in the world, ill-worded and ill-delivered. Your business is negotiation abroad, and oratory in the House of Commons at home. What figure can you make, in either case, if your style be inelegant, I do not say bad? Imagine yourself writing an office-letter to a secretary of state, which letter is to be read by the whole Cabinet Council, and very possibly afterward laid before parliament; any one barbarism, solecism, or vulgarism in it, would, in a very few days, circulate through the whole kingdom, to your disgrace and ridicule. For instance, I will suppose you had written the following letter from The Hague to the Secretary of State at London; and leave you to suppose the consequences of it:
Style is the clothing of thoughts; no matter how just your ideas are, if your style is plain, rough, and vulgar, they will seem just as disadvantageous and be received poorly, like how your well-proportioned body would be seen if dressed in rags, dirt, and tatters. Not everyone can judge the content of ideas, but every person can and does evaluate style, to some extent. If I were to speak or write to the public, I would prefer moderate ideas, enhanced with all the beauty and elegance of style, over the strongest ideas in the world that are poorly expressed and delivered. Your job involves negotiations abroad and speaking in the House of Commons at home. What kind of impression can you make in either scenario if your style is not elegant, and I don’t mean just bad? Imagine writing an official letter to a secretary of state that will be read by the entire Cabinet Council and possibly presented to Parliament later; any mistake or crudeness in it would quickly circulate throughout the whole country, leading to your disgrace and mockery. For example, let’s say you wrote the following letter from The Hague to the Secretary of State in London; think about the consequences:
MY LORD: I HAD, last night, the honor of your Lordship’s letter of the 24th; and will SET ABOUT DOING the orders contained THEREIN; and IF so BE that I can get that affair done by the next post, I will not fail FOR TO give your Lordship an account of it by NEXT POST. I have told the French Minister, AS HOW THAT IF that affair be not soon concluded, your Lordship would think it ALL LONG OF HIM; and that he must have neglected FOR TO have wrote to his court about it. I must beg leave to put your Lordship in mind AS HOW, that I am now full three quarter in arrear; and if SO BE that I do not very soon receive at least one half year, I shall CUT A VERY BAD FIGURE; FOR THIS HERE place is very dear. I shall be VASTLY BEHOLDEN to your Lordship for THAT THERE mark of your favor; and so I REST or REMAIN, Your, etc.
MY LORD: I received your Lordship’s letter from the 24th last night, and I will start carrying out the instructions you've given. If I can wrap up that matter by the next mail, I won’t hesitate to update your Lordship about it then. I've informed the French Minister that if this issue isn’t resolved soon, your Lordship might think it all falls on him, and he must have neglected to write to his court about it. I must remind your Lordship that I am now three quarters behind on payment, and unless I receive at least half a year’s worth soon, I will be in a difficult position, as this place is quite expensive. I would be very grateful to your Lordship for your kindness in this matter; and so I remain, Yours, etc.
You will tell me, possibly, that this is a caricatura of an illiberal and inelegant style: I will admit it; but assure you, at the same time, that a dispatch with less than half these faults would blow you up forever. It is by no means sufficient to be free from faults, in speaking and writing; but you must do both correctly and elegantly. In faults of this kind, it is not ‘ille optimus qui minimis arguetur’; but he is unpardonable who has any at all, because it is his own fault: he need only attend to, observe, and imitate the best authors.
You might say that this is an exaggerated view of an unrefined and clumsy style: I'll admit that; but I assure you that a message with even half the faults would ruin your reputation forever. It's not enough to just be free from mistakes in speaking and writing; you also have to do both correctly and gracefully. When it comes to these kinds of mistakes, it's not 'the best is he who has the fewest faults'; rather, it's inexcusable for someone to have any at all, because that's on them: they just need to pay attention to, observe, and imitate the best writers.
It is a very true saying, that a man must be born a poet, but that he may make himself an orator; and the very first principle of an orator is to speak his own language, particularly, with the utmost purity and elegance. A man will be forgiven even great errors in a foreign language; but in his own, even the least slips are justly laid hold of and ridiculed.
It’s a well-known truth that a person has to be born a poet, but they can become an orator through practice. The fundamental rule for an orator is to speak their own language, especially with complete clarity and grace. People might overlook significant mistakes made in a foreign language, but in their own language, even minor mistakes are rightfully pointed out and mocked.
A person of the House of Commons, speaking two years ago upon naval affairs; asserted, that we had then the finest navy UPON THE FACE OF THE YEARTH. This happy mixture of blunder and vulgarism, you may easily imagine, was matter of immediate ridicule; but I can assure you that it continues so still, and will be remembered as long as he lives and speaks. Another, speaking in defense of a gentleman, upon whom a censure was moved, happily said that he thought that gentleman was more LIABLE to be thanked and rewarded, than censured. You know, I presume, that LIABLE can never be used in a good sense.
A member of the House of Commons, speaking two years ago about naval affairs, claimed that we had the finest navy in the world. This unfortunate mix of mistake and poor language was immediately mocked, and I assure you it’s still a joke today and will be remembered as long as he lives and speaks. Another person, defending a gentleman who was facing criticism, wisely stated that he thought that gentleman was more deserving of thanks and rewards than criticism. You probably know that "liable" should never be used in a positive way.
You have with you three or four of the best English authors, Dryden, Atterbury, and Swift; read them with the utmost care, and with a particular view to their language, and they may possibly correct that CURIOUS INFELICITY OF DICTION, which you acquired at Westminster. Mr. Harte excepted, I will admit that you have met with very few English abroad, who could improve your style; and with many, I dare say, who speak as ill as yourself, and, it may be, worse; you must, therefore, take the more pains, and consult your authors and Mr. Harte the more. I need not tell you how attentive the Romans and Greeks, particularly the Athenians, were to this object. It is also a study among the Italians and the French; witness their respective academies and dictionaries for improving and fixing their languages. To our shame be it spoken, it is less attended to here than in any polite country; but that is no reason why you should not attend to it; on the contrary, it will distinguish you the more. Cicero says, very truly, that it is glorious to excel other men in that very article, in which men excel brutes; SPEECH.
You have with you three or four of the best English authors, Dryden, Atterbury, and Swift; read them carefully, paying special attention to their language, as they might help improve the unusual awkwardness in your writing that you picked up at Westminster. Aside from Mr. Harte, I admit that you’ve probably encountered very few English speakers abroad who could enhance your style, and many who might express themselves even worse than you do. Therefore, you need to put in more effort and consult your authors and Mr. Harte more often. I don’t need to remind you how focused the Romans and Greeks, especially the Athenians, were on this goal. It’s also a pursuit among the Italians and the French; just look at their academies and dictionaries aimed at refining and standardizing their languages. Sadly, it's less emphasized here than in any other cultured country, but that shouldn't deter you from working on it; in fact, it will set you apart. Cicero rightly says that it’s commendable to surpass others in the very ability that distinguishes humans from animals: SPEECH.
Constant experience has shown me, that great purity and elegance of style, with a graceful elocution, cover a multitude of faults, in either a speaker or a writer. For my own part, I confess (and I believe most people are of my mind) that if a speaker should ungracefully mutter or stammer out to me the sense of an angel, deformed by barbarism and solecisms, or larded with vulgarisms, he should never speak to me a second time, if I could help it. Gain the heart, or you gain nothing; the eyes and the ears are the only roads to the heart. Merit and knowledge will not gain hearts, though they will secure them when gained. Pray, have that truth ever in your mind. Engage the eyes by your address, air, and motions; soothe the ears by the elegance and harmony of your diction; the heart will certainly follow; and the whole man, or woman, will as certainly follow the heart. I must repeat it to you, over and over again, that with all the knowledge which you may have at present, or hereafter acquire, and with all merit that ever man had, if you have not a graceful address, liberal and engaging manners, a prepossessing air, and a good degree of eloquence in speaking and writing; you will be nobody; but will have the daily mortification of seeing people, with not one-tenth part of your merit or knowledge, get the start of you, and disgrace you, both in company and in business.
I've learned from experience that having a polished and elegant style, combined with graceful speaking, can hide a lot of flaws in both speakers and writers. Personally, I admit (and I think most people would agree) that if someone were to awkwardly mumble or stutter the ideas of an angel, twisted with poor grammar and slang, I wouldn't want to hear them again if I could avoid it. To win someone's heart is everything; the eyes and ears are the only paths to the heart. Skills and knowledge won’t warm hearts, but they can keep them once won. Always remember this truth. Capture attention through your appearance, manner, and gestures; delight the ears with the elegance and flow of your words; the heart will follow, and the whole person will certainly follow the heart. I have to remind you repeatedly that no matter how much knowledge you have now or will gain in the future, and despite all the merits any person may possess, if you lack a graceful presence, charming and friendly manners, an appealing demeanor, and a good level of eloquence in both speaking and writing, you will be overlooked. You'll continuously face the frustration of watching others with far less merit or knowledge get ahead of you and outshine you in social and professional settings.
You have read “Quintilian,” the best book in the world to form an orator; pray read ‘Cicero de Oratore’, the best book in the world to finish one. Translate and retranslate from and to Latin, Greek, and English; make yourself a pure and elegant English style: it requires nothing but application. I do not find that God has made you a poet; and I am very glad that he has not: therefore, for God’s sake, make yourself an orator, which you may do. Though I still call you boy, I consider you no longer as such; and when I reflect upon the prodigious quantity of manure that has been laid upon you, I expect that you should produce more at eighteen, than uncultivated soils do at eight-and-twenty.
You’ve read “Quintilian,” the best book in the world to develop an orator; please read ‘Cicero de Oratore’, the best book in the world to polish one. Translate and retranslate between Latin, Greek, and English; create a pure and elegant English style: it just takes effort. I don’t think God made you a poet; I’m actually glad He didn’t: so, for God’s sake, become an orator, which you can do. Although I still call you a boy, I no longer see you that way; and when I think about all the effort that’s been put into your education, I expect you to produce more at eighteen than untended fields do at twenty-eight.
Pray tell Mr. Harte that I have received his letter of the 13th, N. S. Mr. Smith was much in the right not to let you go, at this time of the year, by sea; in the summer you may navigate as much as you please; as, for example, from Leghorn to Genoa, etc. Adieu.
Please let Mr. Harte know that I got his letter from the 13th, N. S. Mr. Smith was absolutely right to not let you go by sea at this time of year; you can travel as much as you want in the summer, like from Leghorn to Genoa, etc. Goodbye.
LETTER XCII
LONDON, November 27, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: While the Roman Republic flourished, while glory was pursued, and virtue practiced, and while even little irregularities and indecencies, not cognizable by law, were, however, not thought below the public care, censors were established, discretionally to supply, in particular cases, the inevitable defects of the law, which must and can only be general. This employment I assume to myself with regard to your little republic, leaving the legislative power entirely to Mr. Harte; I hope, and believe, that he will seldom, or rather never, have occasion to exert his supreme authority; and I do by no means suspect you of any faults that may require that interposition. But, to tell you the plain truth, I am of opinion that my censorial power will not be useless to you, nor a sinecure to me. The sooner you make it both, the better for us both. I can now exercise this employment only upon hearsay, or, at most, written evidence; and therefore shall exercise it with great lenity and some diffidence; but when we meet, and that I can form my judgment upon ocular and auricular evidence, I shall no more let the least impropriety, indecorum, or irregularity pass uncensured, than my predecessor Cato did. I shall read you with the attention of a critic, not with the partiality of an author: different in this respect, indeed, from most critics, that I shall seek for faults only to correct and not to expose them. I have often thought, and still think, that there are few things which people in general know less, than how to love and how to hate. They hurt those they love by a mistaken indulgence, by a blindness, nay, often by a partiality to their faults. Where they hate they hurt themselves, by ill-timed passion and rage. Fortunately for you, I never loved you in that mistaken manner. From your infancy, I made you the object of my most serious attention, and not my plaything. I consulted your real good, not your humors or fancies; and I shall continue to do so while you want it, which will probably be the case during our joint lives; for, considering the difference of our ages, in the course of nature, you will hardly have acquired experience enough of your own, while I shall be in condition of lending you any of mine. People in general will much better bear being, told of their vices or crimes, than of their little failings and weaknesses. They, in some degree, justify or excuse (as they think) the former, by strong passions, seductions, and artifices of others, but to be told of, or to confess, their little failings and weaknesses, implies an inferiority of parts, too mortifying to that self-love and vanity, which are inseparable from our natures. I have been intimate enough with several people to tell them that they had said or done a very criminal thing; but I never was intimate enough with any man, to tell him, very seriously, that he had said or done a very foolish one. Nothing less than the relation between you and me can possibly authorize that freedom; but fortunately for you, my parental rights, joined to my censorial powers, give it me in its fullest extent, and my concern for you will make me exert it. Rejoice, therefore, that there is one person in the world who can and will tell you what will be very useful to you to know, and yet what no other man living could or would tell you. Whatever I shall tell you of this kind, you are very sure, can have no other motive than your interest; I can neither be jealous nor envious of your reputation or fortune, which I must be both desirous and proud to establish and promote; I cannot be your rival either in love or in business; on the contrary, I want the rays of your rising to reflect new lustre upon my setting light. In order to this, I shall analyze you minutely, and censure you freely, that you may not (if possible) have one single spot, when in your meridian.
DEAR BOY: While the Roman Republic thrived, while people chased glory and practiced virtue, and even minor irregularities and decencies, not addressed by law, were nonetheless considered worthy of public concern, censors were set up to address, in specific cases, the unavoidable gaps in the law, which can only be general. I take on this role concerning your little republic, leaving the legislative authority fully to Mr. Harte; I hope and believe he will rarely, or perhaps never, need to use his supreme power; and I certainly don’t suspect you of any issues that would need his intervention. But to be honest, I believe my role as a censor will not be useless to you, nor just a formality for me. The sooner you make it both, the better for us. Right now, I can only perform this role based on what I hear or, at most, what I read; so I will approach it with leniency and some hesitation; but when we meet, and I can judge things based on what I see and hear, I won’t let even the slightest impropriety, indecorum, or irregularity go uncensored, just like my predecessor Cato. I will read your work with the scrutiny of a critic, not with the bias of an author: unlike most critics, I will look for faults only to correct them, not to expose them. I have often thought, and still believe, that few people know less about how to love and how to hate. They hurt those they love by misguided indulgence, by blindness, and often by partiality to their faults. When they hate, they hurt themselves with poorly timed passion and anger. Fortunately for you, I never loved you in that misguided way. From your childhood, I made you the focus of my most serious attention, not just a plaything. I considered your real well-being, not your whims or fancies; and I will continue to do so as long as you need it, which will likely be the case during our lifetimes; given our age difference, you probably won’t have enough of your own experience while I am still able to share some of mine with you. People in general can handle being told about their vices or crimes much better than being pointed out their minor failings and weaknesses. They somewhat justify or excuse (as they believe) the former by strong emotions, temptations, and the manipulations of others, but to be told about, or to admit, their small failings and weaknesses suggests an inferiority that is too humbling to their self-love and vanity, which are part of our nature. I have been close enough to several people to point out when they’ve done something very wrong; but I’ve never been close enough to any man to seriously tell him that he’s done something very foolish. Nothing less than the relationship between you and me gives me the authority for that kind of freedom; but luckily for you, my parental rights, combined with my censoring powers, give me that authority to the fullest, and my concern for you will make me use it. So, be glad that there is one person in the world who can and will tell you things that are very useful for you to know, and yet things that no one else could or would tell you. Whatever I tell you in this respect will only have your best interest at heart; I can't be jealous or envious of your reputation or success, which I truly wish to promote and take pride in; I can’t be your rival in either love or business; instead, I want the light of your rising to shine even more brightly on my setting light. To achieve this, I will analyze you closely and critique you freely, so that you may not have even a single flaw when you reach your peak.
There is nothing that a young fellow, at his first appearance in the world, has more reason to dread, and consequently should take more pains to avoid, than having any ridicule fixed upon him. It degrades him with the most reasonable part of mankind; but it ruins him with the rest; and I have known many a man undone by acquiring a ridiculous nickname: I would not, for all the riches in the world, that you should acquire one when you return to England. Vices and crimes excite hatred and reproach; failings, weaknesses, and awkwardnesses, excite ridicule; they are laid hold of by mimics, who, though very contemptible wretches themselves, often, by their buffoonery, fix ridicule upon their betters. The little defects in manners, elocution, address, and air (and even of figure, though very unjustly), are the objects of ridicule, and the causes of nicknames. You cannot imagine the grief it would give me, and the prejudice it would do you, if, by way of distinguishing you from others of your name, you should happen to be called Muttering Stanhope, Absent Stanhope, Ill-bred Stanhope, or Awkward, Left-legged Stanhope: therefore, take great care to put it out of the power of Ridicule itself to give you any of these ridiculous epithets; for, if you get one, it will stick to you, like the envenomed shirt. The very first day that I see you, I shall be able to tell you, and certainly shall tell you, what degree of danger you are in; and I hope that my admonitions, as censor, may prevent the censures of the public. Admonitions are always useful; is this one or not? You are the best judge; it is your own picture which I send you, drawn, at my request, by a lady at Venice: pray let me know how far, in your conscience, you think it like; for there are some parts of it which I wish may, and others, which I should be sorry were. I send you, literally, the copy of that part of her letter, to her friend here, which relates to you.—[In compliance to your orders, I have examined young Stanhope carefully, and think I have penetrated into his character. This is his portrait, which I take to be a faithful one. His face is pleasing, his countenance sensible, and his look clever. His figure is at present rather too square; but if he shoots up, which he has matter and years for, he will then be of a good size. He has, undoubtedly, a great fund of acquired knowledge; I am assured that he is master of the learned languages. As for French, I know he speaks it perfectly, and, I am told, German as well. The questions he asks are judicious; and denote a thirst after knowledge. I cannot say that he appears equally desirous of pleasing, for he seems to neglect attentions and the graces. He does not come into a room well, nor has he that easy, noble carriage, which would be proper for him. It is true, he is as yet young and inexperienced; one may therefore reasonably hope that his exercises, which he has not yet gone through, and good company, in which he is still a novice, will polish, and give all that is wanting to complete him. What seems necessary for that purpose, would, be an attachment to some woman of fashion, and who knows the world. Some Madame de l’Ursay would be the proper person. In short, I can assure you, that he has everything which Lord Chesterfield can wish him, excepting that carriage, those graces, and the style used in the best company; which he will certainly acquire in time, and by frequenting the polite world. If he should not, it would be great pity, since he so well deserves to possess them. You know their importance. My Lord, his father, knows it too, he being master of them all. To conclude, if little Stanhope acquires the graces, I promise you he will make his way; if not, he will be stopped in a course, the goal of which he might attain with honor.]
There’s nothing that a young man, at his first entry into the world, has more reason to fear, and therefore should work harder to avoid, than being the subject of any ridicule. It lowers his standing among the most reasonable people; but it can ruin him with others. I've seen many men suffer because they gained a silly nickname, and I wouldn’t want that to happen to you when you return to England, no matter the wealth in the world. Vices and crimes provoke hatred and blame; failings, weaknesses, and awkwardness cause ridicule. They are picked on by those who mock, who, even though they are despicable themselves, can, through their antics, embarrass others. Minor flaws in manners, speech, demeanor, and even appearance (though unfairly) become targets of ridicule and sources of nicknames. You can’t imagine the grief it would cause me, and the harm it would do to you, if, in an attempt to distinguish you from others with the same name, you ended up getting called Muttering Stanhope, Absent Stanhope, Ill-mannered Stanhope, or Awkward, Left-legged Stanhope. So, take great care to prevent ridicule from sticking any of these ridiculous labels on you; if you get one, it will cling to you like a poisoned shirt. The very first day I see you, I’ll be able to tell you, and I certainly will tell you, what level of danger you’re in, and I hope that my warnings, as your advisor, can prevent public criticism. Warnings are always valuable; is this one effective or not? You’re the best judge; I’m sending you your own portrait, which was drawn at my request by a lady in Venice: please let me know how similar you think it is in your conscience because there are parts I hope are accurate and others I wouldn’t want to be. I’m sending you the exact portion of her letter to her friend here that refers to you.—[In accordance with your orders, I have carefully examined young Stanhope and I think I’ve understood his character. This is his portrait, which I believe to be faithful. His face is pleasant, his expression is sensible, and he looks intelligent. His physique is currently a bit too stocky; however, if he grows taller, which he has the materials and years for, he will then be of good size. He undoubtedly has a significant amount of acquired knowledge; I’m assured that he masters the learned languages. As for French, I know he speaks it perfectly, and I am told he speaks German well too. The questions he asks are thoughtful and show a thirst for knowledge. I can’t say he appears equally eager to please, as he seems to overlook attention and gracefulness. He doesn’t enter a room well, nor does he have that easy, dignified manner that would suit him. It’s true that he is still young and inexperienced; one can therefore reasonably hope that the experiences he hasn’t gone through yet, along with good company, in which he is still a novice, will refine him and give him everything he needs to be complete. What seems necessary for that is to attach himself to a fashionable woman who knows the world. Someone like Madame de l’Ursay would be ideal. In short, I can assure you that he has everything Lord Chesterfield could wish for him, except that poise, those graces, and the style used in high society; which he will certainly acquire over time by frequenting the polite world. If he doesn’t, it would be a great pity since he clearly deserves to have them. You know their significance. My Lord, his father, knows this too, being a master of them all. To conclude, if young Stanhope gains these graces, I promise you he will succeed; if not, he will face obstacles in a path he could traverse with honor.]
Tell Mr. Harte that I have this moment received his letter of the 22d, N. S., and that I approve extremely of the long stay you have made at Venice. I love long residences at capitals; running post through different places is a most unprofitable way of traveling, and admits of no application. Adieu.
Tell Mr. Harte that I just received his letter dated the 22nd, N. S., and I really appreciate the extended time you've spent in Venice. I enjoy staying for a long time in major cities; rushing through different places is a completely unhelpful way of traveling and doesn't allow for any real engagement. Goodbye.
You see, by this extract, of what consequence other people think these things. Therefore, I hope you will no longer look upon them as trifles. It is the character of an able man to despise little things in great business: but then he knows what things are little, and what not. He does not suppose things are little, because they are commonly called so: but by the consequences that may or may not attend them. If gaining people’s affections, and interesting their hearts in your favor, be of consequence, as it undoubtedly is, he knows very well that a happy concurrence of all those, commonly called little things, manners, air, address, graces, etc., is of the utmost consequence, and will never be at rest till he has acquired them. The world is taken by the outside of things, and we must take the world as it is; you nor I cannot set it right. I know, at this time, a man of great quality and station, who has not the parts of a porter; but raised himself to the station he is in, singly by having a graceful figure, polite manners, and an engaging address; which, by the way, he only acquired by habit; for he had not sense enough to get them by reflection. Parts and habit should conspire to complete you. You will have the habit of good company, and you have reflection in your power.
You see, from this excerpt, how important other people think these things are. So, I hope you will no longer view them as minor issues. An accomplished person may overlook small matters in major affairs, but they know what truly matters and what doesn't. They don’t consider things insignificant just because they’re often labeled that way; they assess them by their potential consequences. If winning people’s affection and gaining their interest in your favor is important, which it clearly is, then they understand that a successful combination of what are often termed little things—manners, appearance, charm, etc.—is extremely important, and they'll never rest until they’ve mastered them. The world is influenced by appearances, and we have to accept the world as it is; neither you nor I can change that. I know of a man of high status who lacks the skills of a laborer but has risen to his position solely because of his attractive appearance, polite manners, and engaging demeanor; he gained these traits merely through habit, as he didn’t have the insight to develop them through reflection. Skills and habit should work together to complete you. You’ll have the habits from good company, and reflection is within your control.
LETTER XCIII
LONDON, December 5, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: Those who suppose that men in general act rationally, because they are called rational creatures, know very little of the world, and if they act themselves upon that supposition, will nine times in ten find themselves grossly mistaken. That man is, ‘animal bipes, implume, risibile’, I entirely agree; but for the ‘rationale’, I can only allow it him ‘in actu primo’ (to talk logic) and seldom in ‘actu secundo’. Thus, the speculative, cloistered pedant, in his solitary cell, forms systems of things as they should be, not as they are; and writes as decisively and absurdly upon war, politics, manners, and characters, as that pedant talked, who was so kind as to instruct Hannibal in the art of war. Such closet politicians never fail to assign the deepest motives for the most trifling actions; instead of often ascribing the greatest actions to the most trifling causes, in which they would be much seldomer mistaken. They read and write of kings, heroes, and statesmen, as never doing anything but upon the deepest principles of sound policy. But those who see and observe kings, heroes, and statesmen, discover that they have headaches, indigestions, humors, and passions, just like other people; everyone of which, in their turns, determine their wills, in defiance of their reason. Had we only read in the “Life of Alexander,” that he burned Persepolis, it would doubtless have been accounted for from deep policy: we should have been told, that his new conquest could not have been secured without the destruction of that capital, which would have been the constant seat of cabals, conspiracies, and revolts. But, luckily, we are informed at the same time, that this hero, this demi-god, this son and heir of Jupiter Ammon, happened to get extremely drunk with his w—-e; and, by way of frolic, destroyed one of the finest cities in the world. Read men, therefore, yourself, not in books but in nature. Adopt no systems, but study them yourself. Observe their weaknesses, their passions, their humors, of all which their understandings are, nine times in ten, the dupes. You will then know that they are to be gained, influenced, or led, much oftener by little things than by great ones; and, consequently, you will no longer think those things little, which tend to such great purposes.
DEAR BOY: Those who think that men generally act rationally because they're called rational beings know very little about the world, and if they act on that belief, they'll often find themselves completely wrong. I agree that man is a "two-legged, featherless, laughing" creature, but as for "rationale," I can only grant him that in the first instance and rarely in the second. The speculative, reclusive thinker in his solitary space creates ideal systems of how things should be, not how they are; and writes about war, politics, manners, and characters as decisively and absurdly as that scholar who taught Hannibal about warfare. Such armchair politicians always assign deep motives to the most trivial actions instead of recognizing that the most significant actions often arise from the most trivial causes, which is where they'd be much less mistaken. They read and write about kings, heroes, and statesmen as if they never act except on the deepest principles of good policy. But those who actually observe kings, heroes, and statesmen see that they face headaches, digestive issues, moods, and passions just like everyone else; each of these influences their decisions, often against their better judgment. If we had only read in the "Life of Alexander" that he burned Persepolis, it surely would have been framed as a strategic move: we would have been told that he couldn't solidify his new conquest without destroying that capital, a hub of plots, conspiracies, and revolts. But luckily, we also learn that this hero, this demigod, this son of Jupiter Ammon, happened to get very drunk with his friends and, just for fun, leveled one of the most beautiful cities in the world. So, read people yourself—not through books but through experience. Don’t stick to any doctrines; study them directly. Notice their weaknesses, their passions, their moods, all of which their reasoning often fails to understand. You’ll then realize that they can be influenced or led by small things much more often than by big ones; thus, you won’t underestimate those small things that can lead to significant outcomes.
Let us apply this now to the particular object of this letter; I mean, speaking in, and influencing public assemblies. The nature of our constitution makes eloquence more useful, and more necessary, in this country than in any other in Europe. A certain degree of good sense and knowledge is requisite for that, as well as for everything else; but beyond that, the purity of diction, the elegance of style, the harmony of periods, a pleasing elocution, and a graceful action, are the things which a public speaker should attend to the most; because his audience certainly does, and understands them the best; or rather indeed understands little else. The late Lord Chancellor Cowper’s strength as an orator lay by no means in his reasonings, for he often hazarded very weak ones. But such was the purity and elegance of his style, such the propriety and charms of his elocution, and such the gracefulness of his action, that he never spoke without universal applause; the ears and the eyes gave him up the hearts and the understandings of the audience. On the contrary, the late Lord Townshend always spoke materially, with argument and knowledge, but never pleased. Why? His diction was not only inelegant, but frequently ungrammatical, always vulgar; his cadences false, his voice unharmonious, and his action ungraceful. Nobody heard him with patience; and the young fellows used to joke upon him, and repeat his inaccuracies. The late Duke of Argyle, though the weakest reasoner, was the most pleasing speaker I ever knew in my life. He charmed, he warmed, he forcibly ravished the audience; not by his matter certainly, but by his manner of delivering it. A most genteel figure, a graceful, noble air, an harmonious voice, an elegance of style, and a strength of emphasis, conspired to make him the most affecting, persuasive, and applauded speaker I ever saw. I was captivated like others; but when I came home, and coolly considered what he had said, stripped of all those ornaments in which he had dressed it, I often found the matter flimsy, the arguments weak, and I was convinced of the power of those adventitious concurring circumstances, which ignorance of mankind only calls trifling ones. Cicero, in his book ‘De Oratore’, in order to raise the dignity of that profession which he well knew himself to be at the head of, asserts that a complete orator must be a complete everything, lawyer, philosopher, divine, etc. That would be extremely well, if it were possible: but man’s life is not long enough; and I hold him to be the completest orator, who speaks the best upon that subject which occurs; whose happy choice of words, whose lively imagination, whose elocution and action adorn and grace his matter, at the same time that they excite the attention and engage the passions of his audience.
Let's apply this now to the main point of this letter: speaking in and influencing public gatherings. The nature of our constitution makes eloquence more valuable and necessary in this country than in any other in Europe. A certain level of common sense and knowledge is essential for that, as it is for everything else; but beyond that, the clarity of language, the beauty of style, the rhythm of sentences, an engaging delivery, and graceful gestures are what a public speaker should prioritize the most, because the audience definitely notices these things and understands them best, or rather, understands little else. The late Lord Chancellor Cowper's strength as an orator didn't come from his reasoning, as he often presented quite weak arguments. However, his style was pure and elegant, his delivery had proper charm, and his actions were graceful, so he never spoke without receiving universal applause; the audience surrendered their hearts and minds to him. In contrast, the late Lord Townshend always spoke with substance, arguments, and knowledge, but he never pleased. Why? His language was not only inelegant but often ungrammatical, always vulgar; his rhythm was off, his voice lacked harmony, and his actions were awkward. No one listened to him patiently, and the young guys would joke about him and imitate his mistakes. The late Duke of Argyle, although he was the weakest in reasoning, was the most enjoyable speaker I ever encountered. He captivated, warmed, and powerfully engaged the audience—not by the content of what he said, but by how he delivered it. He had a refined presence, a graceful, noble demeanor, a harmonious voice, an elegant style, and a strong emphasis, which combined to make him the most moving, persuasive, and applauded speaker I ever saw. I was enchanted like everyone else; but when I got home and calmly reflected on what he had said, stripped of all the embellishments he used, I often found the content lacking, the arguments weak, and I realized the impact of those seemingly trivial factors that only the ignorant call insignificant. Cicero, in his book ‘De Oratore,’ to elevate the status of a profession he knew he was leading, claimed that a complete orator must also be a complete everything: lawyer, philosopher, theologian, etc. That would be great, if it were possible: but life is too short for that; and I believe the best orator is the one who speaks most effectively on the topic at hand; whose careful word choice, vivid imagination, delivery, and gestures enhance and elevate his message while capturing the attention and emotions of his audience.
You will be of the House of Commons as soon as you are of age; and you must first make a figure there, if you would make a figure, or a fortune, in your country. This you can never do without that correctness and elegance in your own language, which you now seem to neglect, and which you have entirely to learn. Fortunately for you, it is to be learned. Care and observation will do it; but do not flatter yourself, that all the knowledge, sense, and reasoning in the world will ever make you a popular and applauded speaker, without the ornaments and the graces of style, elocution, and action. Sense and argument, though coarsely delivered, will have their weight in a private conversation, with two or three people of sense; but in a public assembly they will have none, if naked and destitute of the advantages I have mentioned. Cardinal de Retz observes, very justly, that every numerous assembly is a mob, influenced by their passions, humors, and affections, which nothing but eloquence ever did or ever can engage. This is so important a consideration for everybody in this country, and more particularly for you, that I earnestly recommend it to your most serious care and attention. Mind your diction, in whatever language you either write or speak; contract a habit of correctness and elegance. Consider your style, even in the freest conversation and most familiar letters. After, at least, if not before, you have said a thing, reflect if you could not have said it better. Where you doubt of the propriety or elegance of a word or a phrase, consult some good dead or living authority in that language. Use yourself to translate, from various languages into English; correct those translations till they satisfy your ear, as well as your understanding. And be convinced of this truth, that the best sense and reason in the world will be as unwelcome in a public assembly, without these ornaments, as they will in public companies, without the assistance of manners and politeness. If you will please people, you must please them in their own way; and, as you cannot make them what they should be, you must take them as they are. I repeat it again, they are only to be taken by ‘agremens’, and by what flatters their senses and their hearts. Rabelais first wrote a most excellent book, which nobody liked; then, determined to conform to the public taste, he wrote Gargantua and Pantagruel, which everybody liked, extravagant as it was. Adieu.
You will be in the House of Commons as soon as you come of age, and you need to make a name for yourself there if you want to succeed in your country. You can’t do this without mastering the accuracy and elegance of your language, which you currently seem to overlook and which you have yet to learn completely. Fortunately, it's something you can learn. Care and observation will help, but don't kid yourself into thinking that all the knowledge, intelligence, and reasoning in the world will make you a popular and respected speaker without the charm and grace of style, delivery, and presence. Sense and argument, even if delivered poorly, can carry weight in a private conversation with a few sensible people, but in a public setting, they will fall flat if stripped of the benefits I've mentioned. Cardinal de Retz rightly points out that every large gathering is essentially a crowd, swayed by emotions and moods—something that only eloquence can capture. This is a vital point for everyone in this country, and especially for you, so I strongly urge you to take it seriously. Pay attention to your language in whatever you write or say; develop a habit of precision and elegance. Think about your style, even in the most casual conversations and familiar letters. After you express something, think about whether you could have said it better. If you’re unsure about the appropriateness or elegance of a word or phrase, check it against some reputable authority in that language. Practice translating from various languages into English; refine those translations until they sound right to your ear as well as make sense. Be aware that the best arguments will be unwelcome in a public setting without these embellishments, just as they will be unwelcome among groups of people without good manners and courtesy. If you want to please people, you have to do it in a way they appreciate; since you can’t change them into what they ought to be, you must accept them as they are. I’ll say it again: they can only be engaged by what pleases their senses and emotions. Rabelais initially wrote a great book that nobody liked; then, wanting to align with public taste, he wrote Gargantua and Pantagruel, which everyone loved, no matter how outrageous it was. Goodbye.
LETTER XCIV
LONDON, December 9, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: It is now above forty years since I have never spoken nor written one single word, without giving myself at least one moment’s time to consider whether it was a good or a bad one, and whether I could not find out a better in its place. An unharmonious and rugged period, at this time, shocks my ears; and I, like all the rest of the world, will willingly exchange and give up some degree of rough sense, for a good degree of pleasing sound. I will freely and truly own to you, without either vanity or false modesty, that whatever reputation I have acquired as a speaker, is more owing to my constant attention to my diction than to my matter, which was necessarily just the same as other people’s. When you come into parliament, your reputation as a speaker will depend much more upon your words, and your periods, than upon the subject. The same matter occurs equally to everybody of common sense, upon the same question; the dressing it well, is what excites the attention and admiration of the audience.
DEAR BOY: It has been over forty years since I've spoken or written a single word without taking at least a moment to think about whether it was good or bad, and if there was a better option. Right now, the harsh and jarring sounds around me are unsettling; like everyone else, I'd willingly trade some rough substance for a more pleasing sound. I can honestly say, without any arrogance or false humility, that my reputation as a speaker is more due to my careful choice of words than to my ideas, which are essentially the same as anyone else's. When you enter parliament, your reputation as a speaker will rely much more on your language and style than on the topic. The same ideas come to everyone with common sense on the same subject; it’s the presentation that catches the audience's attention and admiration.
It is in parliament that I have set my heart upon your making a figure; it is there that I want to have you justly proud of yourself, and to make me justly proud of you. This means that you must be a good speaker there; I use the word MUST, because I know you may if you will. The vulgar, who are always mistaken, look upon a speaker and a comet with the same astonishment and admiration, taking them both for preternatural phenomena. This error discourages many young men from attempting that character; and good speakers are willing to have their talent considered as something very extraordinary, if not, a peculiar gift of God to his elect. But let you and me analyze and simplify this good speaker; let us strip him of those adventitious plumes with which his own pride, and the ignorance of others, have decked him, and we shall find the true definition of him to be no more than this: A man of good common sense who reasons justly and expresses himself elegantly on that subject upon which he speaks. There is, surely, no witchcraft in this. A man of sense, without a superior and astonishing degree of parts, will not talk nonsense upon any subject; nor will he, if he has the least taste or application, talk inelegantly. What then does all this mighty art and mystery of speaking in parliament amount to? Why, no more than this: that the man who speaks in the House of Commons, speaks in that House, and to four hundred people, that opinion upon a given subject which he would make no difficulty of speaking in any house in England, round the fire, or at table, to any fourteen people whatsoever; better judges, perhaps, and severer critics of what he says, than any fourteen gentlemen of the House of Commons.
It’s in parliament that I really want you to stand out; that’s where I want you to feel proud of yourself and make me proud of you too. This means you need to be a good speaker, and I say MUST because I know you can do it if you put your mind to it. Ordinary people, who often misunderstand things, react to a speaker with the same surprise and admiration they have for a comet, seeing both as unnatural phenomena. This misconception discourages many young men from trying to become speakers, and good speakers often want their talent to be regarded as something extraordinary, almost a special gift from God to a select few. But let’s break this down and take away the fancy embellishments that pride and ignorance have added. The true definition of a good speaker is simply this: A person with common sense who reasons well and expresses himself clearly on the topic he’s discussing. There’s nothing mystical about it. A sensible person, without needing to be incredibly talented, won’t say anything foolish on any topic; and if he has even a little taste or dedication, he won’t speak inelegantly either. So, what does all this elaborate art of speaking in parliament really amount to? It’s just this: a person who speaks in the House of Commons shares in that space, with four hundred people, the same opinion on a topic that he wouldn’t hesitate to express in any English home, around the fire, or at a dinner table, to any fourteen people at all—who might even be better judges and harsher critics of what he says than any fourteen members of the House of Commons.
I have spoken frequently in parliament, and not always without some applause; and therefore I can assure you, from my experience, that there is very little in it. The elegance of the style, and the turn of the periods, make the chief impression upon the hearers. Give them but one or two round and harmonious periods in a speech, which they will retain and repeat; and they will go home as well satisfied as people do from an opera, humming all the way one or two favorite tunes that have struck their ears, and were easily caught. Most people have ears, but few have judgment; tickle those ears, and depend upon it, you will catch their judgments, such as they are.
I've talked a lot in parliament, and not always without getting some applause; so I can tell you from my experience that there's not much to it. The style's elegance and the rhythm of the sentences leave the main impression on the audience. If you give them just one or two well-crafted and catchy sentences in a speech, which they'll remember and repeat, they'll leave feeling just as satisfied as people do after a concert, humming a couple of favorite tunes they heard and easily picked up. Most people have ears, but few have good judgment; please those ears, and believe me, you'll win over their judgment, whatever it might be.
Cicero, conscious that he was at the top of his profession (for in his time eloquence was a profession), in order to set himself off, defines in his treatise ‘De Oratore’, an orator to be such a man as never was, nor never will be; and, by his fallacious argument, says that he must know every art and science whatsoever, or how shall he speak upon them? But, with submission to so great an authority, my definition of an orator is extremely different from, and I believe much truer than his. I call that man an orator, who reasons justly, and expresses himself elegantly, upon whatever subject he treats. Problems in geometry, equations in algebra, processes in chemistry, and experiments in anatomy, are never, that I have heard of, the object of eloquence; and therefore I humbly conceive, that a man may be a very fine speaker, and yet know nothing of geometry, algebra, chemistry, or anatomy. The subjects of all parliamentary debates are subjects of common sense singly.
Cicero, aware that he was at the peak of his profession (since eloquence was a profession in his time), tries to distinguish himself by defining in his work ‘De Oratore’ an orator as someone who never was and never will be. He argues that an orator must know every art and science, or how can he speak about them? However, with all due respect to such an esteemed authority, my definition of an orator is quite different and, I believe, much more accurate. I define an orator as someone who reasons well and expresses himself elegantly on any topic he addresses. Geometry problems, algebra equations, chemistry processes, and anatomy experiments are not typically subjects of eloquence; therefore, I respectfully suggest that a person can be a great speaker without knowing anything about geometry, algebra, chemistry, or anatomy. The topics of all parliamentary debates are matters of common sense on their own.
Thus I write whatever occurs to me, that I think may contribute either to form or inform you. May my labor not be in vain! and it will not, if you will but have half the concern for yourself that I have for you. Adieu.
So I write whatever comes to mind that I think might help you either gain knowledge or understand things better. I hope my efforts aren’t wasted! They won't be if you care about yourself even half as much as I care about you. Goodbye.
LETTER XCV
LONDON; December 12, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: Lord Clarendon in his history says of Mr. John Hampden THAT HE HAD A HEAD TO CONTRIVE, A TONGUE TO PERSUADE, AND A HAND TO EXECUTE ANY MISCHIEF. I shall not now enter into the justness of this character of Mr. Hampden, to whose brave stand against the illegal demand of ship-money we owe our present liberties; but I mention it to you as the character, which with the alteration of one single word, GOOD, instead of MISCHIEF, I would have you aspire to, and use your utmost endeavors to deserve. The head to contrive, God must to a certain degree have given you; but it is in your own power greatly to improve it, by study, observation, and reflection. As for the TONGUE TO PERSUADE, it wholly depends upon yourself; and without it the best head will contrive to very little purpose. The hand to execute depends likewise, in my opinion, in a great measure upon yourself. Serious reflection will always give courage in a good cause; and the courage arising from reflection is of a much superior nature to the animal and constitutional courage of a foot soldier. The former is steady and unshaken, where the ‘nodus’ is ‘dignus vindice’; the latter is oftener improperly than properly exerted, but always brutally.
DEAR BOY: Lord Clarendon in his history describes Mr. John Hampden as someone who had a brain to plan, a voice to persuade, and a hand to carry out any mischief. I'm not going to debate the accuracy of this description of Mr. Hampden, to whom we owe our current freedoms for his brave stand against the illegal demand for ship-money; instead, I bring it up to highlight the character that I want you to aim for, with just one word changed: GOOD instead of MISCHIEF. God has given you a certain level of intelligence, but it’s up to you to improve it through study, observation, and reflection. As for the ability to persuade, that is entirely up to you; without it, even the smartest mind will accomplish very little. The ability to execute also largely relies on you. Serious reflection will always bring courage for a good cause, and this courage, rooted in thought, is of a much higher quality than the instinctive courage of a foot soldier. The former is steady and unwavering when facing serious challenges, while the latter is often misguided, but always aggressive.
The second member of my text (to speak ecclesiastically) shall be the subject of my following discourse; THE TONGUE TO PERSUADE—as judicious, preachers recommend those virtues, which they think their several audiences want the most; such as truth and continence, at court; disinterestedness, in the city; and sobriety, in the country.
The second part of my text (to put it in church terms) will be the topic of my next discussion; THE TONGUE TO PERSUADE—just as wise preachers promote those virtues they believe are most needed by their different audiences, like honesty and self-control in court; generosity in the city; and moderation in the country.
You must certainly, in the course of your little experience, have felt the different effects of elegant and inelegant speaking. Do you not suffer, when people accost you in a stammering or hesitating manner, in an untuneful voice, with false accents and cadences; puzzling and blundering through solecisms, barbarisms, and vulgarisms; misplacing even their bad words, and inverting all method? Does not this prejudice you against their matter, be it what it will; nay, even against their persons? I am sure it does me. On the other hand, do you not feel yourself inclined, prepossessed, nay, even engaged in favor of those who address you in the direct contrary manner? The effects of a correct and adorned style of method and perspicuity, are incredible toward persuasion; they often supply the want of reason and argument, but, when used in the support of reason and argument, they are irresistible. The French attend very much to the purity and elegance of their style, even in common conversation; insomuch that it is a character to say of a man ‘qu’il narre bien’. Their conversations frequently turn upon the delicacies of their language, and an academy is employed in fixing it. The ‘Crusca’, in Italy, has the same object; and I have met with very few Italians, who did not speak their own language correctly and elegantly. How much more necessary is it for an Englishman to do so, who is to speak it in a public assembly, where the laws and liberties of his country are the subjects of his deliberation? The tongue that would persuade there, must not content itself with mere articulation. You know what pains Demosthenes took to correct his naturally bad elocution; you know that he declaimed by the seaside in storms, to prepare himself for the noise of the tumultuous assemblies he was to speak to; and you can now judge of the correctness and elegance of his style. He thought all these things of consequence, and he thought right; pray do you think so too? It is of the utmost consequence to you to be of that opinion. If you have the least defect in your elocution, take the utmost care and pains to correct it. Do not neglect your style, whatever language you speak in, or whoever you speak to, were it your footman. Seek always for the best words and the happiest expressions you can find. Do not content yourself with being barely understood; but adorn your thoughts, and dress them as you would your person; which, however well proportioned it might be, it would be very improper and indecent to exhibit naked, or even worse dressed than people of your sort are.
You must have noticed, in your limited experience, the different impacts of elegant and inelegant speaking. Don’t you feel a sense of discomfort when people approach you with a stammering or hesitant tone, a harsh voice, with awkward accents and rhythms; fumbling through mistakes, slang, and informal language; misusing even their poor words, and mixing everything up? Doesn’t this make you biased against what they’re saying, whatever it may be; and even against them as individuals? It definitely does for me. On the flip side, don’t you find yourself leaning toward, even engaging favorably with those who speak in the exact opposite way? The influence of a clear and refined style of expression is incredible when it comes to persuasion; it often compensates for a lack of reasoning and argument, but when paired with strong reasoning, it becomes unstoppable. The French pay a lot of attention to the purity and elegance of their language, even in casual chats; so much so that it’s a compliment to say a man ‘narrates well’. Their conversations often revolve around the subtleties of their language, and there’s an academy dedicated to preserving it. The ‘Crusca’ in Italy has a similar mission; I’ve encountered very few Italians who don’t speak their language correctly and elegantly. How much more important is it for an Englishman to do the same, especially when addressing a public assembly about the laws and liberties of his country? The ability to persuade there requires more than just clear speech. You know how hard Demosthenes worked to improve his naturally poor speaking skills; he practiced his speeches by the seaside in storms to prepare for the noise of the lively gatherings he would address, and you can now appreciate the quality and elegance of his style. He believed these things mattered, and he was right; do you agree? It’s crucial for you to hold that belief. If you have any faults in your speaking, make every effort to correct them. Don’t disregard your style, no matter what language you’re using or who you’re speaking to, even if it's your servant. Always seek the best words and the most fitting expressions possible. Don’t settle for being merely understood; instead, embellish your thoughts and present them as you would your appearance; which, no matter how well-proportioned it might be, would be quite inappropriate and unseemly to show off in a bare or poorly arranged way compared to others like yourself.
I have sent you in a packet which your Leipsig acquaintance, Duval, sends to his correspondent at Rome, Lord Bolingbroke’s book,—[“Letters on the Spirit of Patriotism,” on the Idea of a Patriot King which he published about a year ago.]—I desire that you will read it over and over again, with particular attention to the style, and to all those beauties of oratory with which it is adorned. Till I read that book, I confess I did not know all the extent and powers of the English language. Lord Bolingbroke has both a tongue and a pen to persuade; his manner of speaking in private conversation is full as elegant as his writings; whatever subject he either speaks or writes upon, he adorns with the most splendid eloquence; not a studied or labored eloquence, but such a flowing happiness of diction, which (from care perhaps at first) is become so habitual to him, that even his most familiar conversations, if taken down in writing, would bear the press, without the least correction either as to method or style. If his conduct, in the former part of his life, had been equal to all his natural and acquired talents, he would most justly have merited the epithet of all-accomplished. He is himself sensible of his past errors: those violent passions which seduced him in his youth, have now subsided by age; and take him as he is now, the character of all-accomplished is more his due than any man’s I ever knew in my life.
I’ve sent you a packet that your Leipzig acquaintance, Duval, is sending to his contact in Rome, Lord Bolingbroke’s book—["Letters on the Spirit of Patriotism," about the idea of a Patriot King that he published about a year ago.]—I want you to read it over and over, paying close attention to the style and all the beautiful rhetoric it features. Until I read that book, I admit I didn’t realize the full extent and power of the English language. Lord Bolingbroke has a persuasive way with both his speech and his writing; his way of speaking in casual conversation is just as elegant as his written work. No matter the topic he addresses, he embellishes it with the most impressive eloquence—not a forced or overly studied eloquence, but a natural flow of expression that, perhaps from practice at first, has become so second nature to him that even his most casual conversations, if written down, would be fit for publication without any need for edits in either organization or style. If his behavior in the earlier part of his life had matched his natural and cultivated talents, he would rightly deserve the title of all-accomplished. He is aware of his past mistakes: the intense passions that led him astray in his youth have now calmed with age; and considering who he is now, the title of all-accomplished suits him better than anyone else I’ve ever known.
But he has been a most mortifying instance of the violence of human passions and of the weakness of the most exalted human reason. His virtues and his vices, his reason and his passions, did not blend themselves by a gradation of tints, but formed a shining and sudden contrast. Here the darkest, there the most splendid colors; and both rendered more shining from their proximity. Impetuosity, excess, and almost extravagance, characterized not only his passions, but even his senses. His youth was distinguished by all the tumult and storm of pleasures, in which he most licentiously triumphed, disdaining all decorum. His fine imagination has often been heated and exhausted, with his body, in celebrating and deifying the prostitute of the night; and his convivial joys were pushed to all the extravagance of frantic Bacchanals. Those passions were interrupted but by a stronger ambition. The former impaired both his constitution and his character, but the latter destroyed both his fortune and his reputation.
But he has been a really embarrassing example of how intense human emotions can be and how weak even the best human reasoning is. His strengths and flaws, his logic and his emotions, didn't blend together gradually; they created a sharp, striking contrast. Over here, the darkest tones, and over there, the most vibrant colors; both appeared even more intense because they were so close to each other. Impulsiveness, excess, and near craziness marked not just his emotions but even his senses. His youth was filled with all the chaos and excitement of pleasures, where he recklessly reveled, ignoring all decorum. His vivid imagination was often consumed, just like his body, in glorifying and idolizing the nighttime seductress; and his drinking parties reached the wild extravagance of crazy Bacchanalians. Those passions were only interrupted by a stronger ambition. The former damaged both his health and his character, while the latter ruined both his wealth and his reputation.
He has noble and generous sentiments, rather than fixed reflected principles of good nature and friendship; but they are more violent than lasting, and suddenly and often varied to their opposite extremes, with regard to the same persons. He receives the common attentions of civility as obligations, which he returns with interest; and resents with passion the little inadvertencies of human nature, which he repays with interest too. Even a difference of opinion upon a philosophical subject would provoke, and prove him no practical philosopher at least.
He has noble and generous feelings, but they're more about impulse than solid beliefs in kindness and friendship. These feelings are intense but fleeting, often swinging to their opposite extremes when it comes to the same people. He sees common acts of politeness as debts that he repays with enthusiasm, and he reacts passionately to minor mistakes in human behavior, making sure to retaliate in kind. Even a simple disagreement on a philosophical topic would upset him and show that he’s not much of a practical philosopher, at least.
Notwithstanding the dissipation of his youth, and the tumultuous agitation of his middle age, he has an infinite fund of various and almost universal knowledge, which, from the clearest and quickest conception, and happiest memory, that ever man was blessed with, he always carries about him. It is his pocket-money, and he never has occasion to draw upon a book for any sum. He excels more particularly in history, as his historical works plainly prove. The relative political and commercial interests of every country in Europe, particularly of his own, are better known to him, than perhaps to any man in it; but how steadily he has pursued the latter, in his public conduct, his enemies, of all parties and denominations, tell with joy.
Despite the squandering of his youth and the chaotic ups and downs of his middle age, he possesses an endless wealth of diverse and nearly universal knowledge, which he has, thanks to his quick understanding and remarkable memory, always at his fingertips. It's like his pocket money, and he never needs to rely on a book for any information. He particularly excels in history, as his historical works clearly show. He knows the political and commercial interests of every country in Europe, especially his own, better than maybe anyone else does; yet, his enemies from all sides delight in pointing out how consistently he has focused on the latter in his public actions.
He engaged young, and distinguished himself in business; and his penetration was almost intuition. I am old enough to have heard him speak in parliament. And I remember that, though prejudiced against him by party, I felt all the force and charms of his eloquence. Like Belial in Milton, “he made the worse appear the better cause.” All the internal and external advantages and talents of an orator are undoubtedly his. Figure, voice, elocution, knowledge, and, above all, the purest and most florid diction, with the justest metaphors and happiest images, had raised him to the post of Secretary at War, at four-and-twenty years old, an age at which others are hardly thought fit for the smallest employments.
He started young and made a name for himself in business; his insight was almost intuitive. I’m old enough to have heard him speak in parliament, and I remember that, despite my party bias against him, I felt the impact and appeal of his eloquence. Like Belial in Milton, “he made the worse appear the better cause.” He certainly had all the internal and external advantages and talents of a great speaker. His appearance, voice, delivery, knowledge, and, above all, his elegant and rich language, along with the most fitting metaphors and vivid imagery, elevated him to the position of Secretary at War by the age of twenty-four, an age when most people are barely considered fit for minor jobs.
During his long exile in France, he applied himself to study with his characteristical ardor; and there he formed and chiefly executed the plan of a great philosophical work. The common bounds of human knowledge are too narrow for his warm and aspiring imagination. He must go ‘extra flammantia maenia Mundi’, and explore the unknown and unknowable regions of metaphysics; which open an unbounded field for the excursion of an ardent imagination; where endless conjectures supply the defect of unattainable knowledge, and too often usurp both its name and its influence.
During his long exile in France, he dedicated himself to studying with his usual passion; and there he developed and mainly worked on a plan for a major philosophical project. The usual limits of human knowledge are too restrictive for his enthusiastic and ambitious imagination. He needs to go ‘extra flammantia maenia Mundi’ and investigate the mysterious and unknowable areas of metaphysics; which provide an limitless space for the exploration of a fiery imagination; where endless theories fill the gap of unreachable knowledge, and too frequently take both its name and its power.
He has had a very handsome person, with a most engaging address in his air and manners; he has all the dignity and good-breeding which a man of quality should or can have, and which so few, in this country at least, really have.
He has been a very attractive person, with a charming way about him in his demeanor and manners; he possesses all the dignity and good manners that a man of high status should or can have, and that so few, at least in this country, actually possess.
He professes himself a deist; believing in a general Providence, but doubting of, though by no means rejecting (as is commonly supposed) the immortality of the soul and a future state.
He claims to be a deist, believing in a general Providence, but he doubts the immortality of the soul and an afterlife, though he doesn’t completely reject these concepts as is often assumed.
Upon the whole, of this extraordinary man, what can we say, but, alas, poor human nature!
Overall, what can we say about this incredible man, but, sadly, poor human nature!
In your destination, you will have frequent occasions to speak in public; to princes and states abroad; to the House of Commons at home; judge, then, whether eloquence is necessary for you or not; not only common eloquence, which is rather free from faults than adorned by beauties; but the highest, the most shining degree of eloquence. For God’s sake, have this object always in your view and in your thoughts. Tune your tongue early to persuasion; and let no jarring, dissonant accents ever fall from it, Contract a habit of speaking well upon every occasion, and neglect yourself in no one. Eloquence and good-breeding, alone, with an exceeding small degree of parts and knowledge, will carry a man a great way; with your parts and knowledge, then, how far will they not carry you? Adieu.
In your destination, you'll often find yourself speaking in public; to princes and officials from other countries; to the House of Commons back home. So, consider whether being eloquent is important for you or not—not just any ordinary eloquence, which is more about avoiding mistakes than showing off beauty, but the best and most impressive kind of eloquence. For goodness' sake, keep this goal in mind at all times. Train your speech for persuasion right from the start, and let no harsh or awkward sounds come from it. Develop the habit of speaking well in every situation, and don’t overlook any opportunity. Eloquence and good manners alone, along with only a little bit of talent and knowledge, can take a person far; so imagine how far your abilities and knowledge can take you. Goodbye.
LETTER XCVI
LONDON, December 16, O. S. 1749.
DEAR Boy: This letter will, I hope, find you safely arrived and well settled at Rome, after the usual distresses and accidents of a winter journey; which are very proper to teach you patience. Your stay there I look upon as a very important period of your life; and I do believe that you will fill it up well. I hope you will employ the mornings diligently with Mr. Harte, in acquiring weight; and the evenings in the best companies at Rome, in acquiring lustre. A formal, dull father, would recommend to you to plod out the evenings, too, at home, over a book by a dim taper; but I recommend to you the evenings for your pleasures, which are as much a part of your education, and almost as necessary a one, as your morning studies. Go to whatever assemblies or SPECTACLES people of fashion go to, and when you are there do as they do. Endeavor to outshine those who shine there the most, get the ‘Garbo’, the ‘Gentilezza’, the ‘Leggeadria’ of the Italians; make love to the most impertinent beauty of condition that you meet with, and be gallant with all the rest. Speak Italian, right or wrong, to everybody; and if you do but laugh at yourself first for your bad Italian, nobody else will laugh at you for it. That is the only way to speak it perfectly; which I expect you will do, because I am sure you may, before you leave Rome. View the most curious remains of antiquity with a classical spirit; and they will clear up to you many passages of the classical authors; particularly the Trajan and Antonine Columns; where you find the warlike instruments, the dresses, and the triumphal ornaments of the Romans. Buy also the prints and explanations of all those respectable remains of Roman grandeur, and compare them with the originals. Most young travelers are contented with a general view of those things, say they are very fine, and then go about their business. I hope you will examine them in a very different way. ‘Approfondissez’ everything you see or hear; and learn, if you can, the WHY and the WHEREFORE. Inquire into the meaning and the objects of the innumerable processions, which you will see at Rome at this time. Assist at all the ceremonies, and know the reason, or at least the pretenses of them, and however absurd they may be, see and speak of them with great decency. Of all things, I beg of you not to herd with your own countrymen, but to be always either with the Romans, or with the foreign ministers residing at Rome. You are sent abroad to see the manners and characters, and learn the languages of foreign countries; and not to converse with English, in English; which would defeat all those ends. Among your graver company, I recommend (as I have done before) the Jesuits to you; whose learning and address will both please and improve you; inform yourself, as much as you can, of the history, policy, and practice of that society, from the time of its founder, Ignatius of Loyola, who was himself a madman. If you would know their morality, you will find it fully and admirably stated in ‘Les Lettres d’un Provincial’, by the famous Monsieur Pascal; and it is a book very well worth your reading. Few people see what they see, or hear what they hear; that is, they see and hear so inattentively and superficially, that they are very little the better for what they do see and hear. This, I dare say, neither is, nor will be your case. You will understand, reflect upon, and consequently retain, what you see and hear. You have still two years good, but no more, to form your character in the world decisively; for, within two months after your arrival in England, it will be finally and irrevocably determined, one way or another, in the opinion of the public. Devote, therefore, these two years to the pursuit of perfection; which ought to be everybody’s object, though in some particulars unattainable; those who strive and labor the most, will come the nearest to it. But, above all things, aim at it in the two important arts of speaking and pleasing; without them all your other talents are maimed and crippled. They are the wings upon which you must soar above other people; without them you will only crawl with the dull mass of mankind. Prepossess by your air, address, and manners; persuade by your tongue; and you will easily execute what your head has contrived. I desire that you will send me very minute accounts from Rome, not of what you see, but, of who you see; of your pleasures and entertainments. Tell me what companies you frequent most, and how you are received.
Dear Boy, I hope this letter finds you safely in Rome, settled in nicely after the usual challenges of a winter journey, which are meant to teach you patience. This time in Rome is a crucial period in your life, and I believe you will make the most of it. I hope you'll spend your mornings working hard with Mr. Harte to gain knowledge, and your evenings enjoying the best company in Rome to gain charm. A typical, boring father would tell you to spend your evenings at home reading by a dim candle, but I encourage you to spend your evenings having fun, which is just as important for your education as your morning studies. Attend whatever gatherings or shows the fashionable people go to, and while you're there, fit in and do what they do. Try to outshine those who shine the most; aim for the elegance, grace, and charm that Italians possess. Flirt with the most beautiful girl you meet, and be charming with everyone else. Speak Italian to everyone, even if it’s not perfect; if you laugh at your own mistakes first, nobody else will laugh at you. That’s the best way to learn it perfectly, and I expect you will, because I'm sure you can by the time you leave Rome. Explore the remarkable ancient ruins with a sense of curiosity; they'll help clarify many things from classical authors, especially the Trajan and Antonine Columns, where you can see Roman weapons, clothing, and triumphal decorations. Also, buy prints and descriptions of these important Roman monuments and compare them to the originals. Many young travelers settle for just a quick look, saying everything is beautiful, then move on. I hope you’ll take a much deeper approach. Dig deep into everything you see or hear; try to learn the reasons behind things. Ask about the significance of the many parades you’ll witness in Rome during your visit. Attend all ceremonies and understand their meanings or at least their intentions, and regardless of how absurd they may seem, discuss them respectfully. Above all, I urge you not to hang out with other English people, but instead spend your time with locals or foreign diplomats in Rome. You are there to observe the customs and characters of different countries, not to talk with fellow English speakers in English, which would defeat your purpose. Among your more serious acquaintances, I recommend the Jesuits again; their knowledge and manner will both please and help you. Learn as much as you can about the history, policies, and practices of that society, starting from its founder, Ignatius of Loyola, who was a rather eccentric figure. If you're curious about their moral principles, you'll find them beautifully explained in “Les Lettres d’un Provincial” by the renowned Monsieur Pascal, which is definitely worth your time. Few people truly observe what they see or hear; they do so so carelessly and superficially that they don't gain much from their experiences. I have confidence that won’t be the case for you. You will understand, reflect on, and remember what you encounter. You have two more good years to shape your character decisively, because, within two months of arriving back in England, public opinion will have formed an opinion about you, one way or another. So, dedicate these two years to striving for excellence, which should be everyone’s aim, even if it’s not fully achievable. Those who work the hardest will come closest to it. Most importantly, focus on the essential skills of speaking and charming others; without them, all your other talents will be diminished. These skills will be your wings, allowing you to rise above the crowd; without them, you’ll just blend in with the masses. Impress others with your demeanor, communication, and manners; persuade with your words, and you’ll easily accomplish what you intend. I would like you to send me detailed accounts from Rome, not just of what you see, but of whom you meet, along with your pleasures and social activities. Let me know which groups you spend time with and how you’re welcomed.
LETTER XCVII
LONDON, December 19, O. S. 1749.
DEAR BOY: The knowledge of mankind is a very use ful knowledge for everybody; a most necessary one for you, who are destined to an active, public life. You will have to do with all sorts of characters; you should, therefore, know them thoroughly, in order to manage them ably. This knowledge is not to be gotten systematically; you must acquire it yourself by your own observation and sagacity; I will give you such hints as I think may be useful land-marks in your intended progress.
DEAR BOY: Understanding people is really important for everyone, especially for you, since you’re meant for an active, public life. You will encounter all kinds of individuals, so it’s essential to know them well in order to handle them effectively. This knowledge can't be learned in a structured way; you have to gain it through your own observations and insights. I’ll provide you with some tips that I believe will be helpful guides in your journey.
I have often told you (and it is most true) that, with regard to mankind, we must not draw general conclusions from certain particular principles, though, in the main, true ones. We must not suppose that, because a man is a rational animal, he will therefore always act rationally; or, because he has such or such a predominant passion, that he will act invariably and consequentially in the pursuit of it. No. We are complicated machines: and though we have one main-spring, that gives motion to the whole, we have an infinity of little wheels, which, in their turns, retard, precipitate, and sometimes stop that motion. Let us exemplify. I will suppose ambition to be (as it commonly is) the predominant passion of a minister of state; and I will suppose that minister to be an able one. Will he, therefore, invariably pursue the object of that predominant passion? May I be sure that he will do so and so, because he ought? Nothing less. Sickness or low spirits, may damp this predominant passion; humor and peevishness may triumph over it; inferior passions may, at times, surprise it and prevail. Is this ambitious statesman amorous? Indiscreet and unguarded confidences, made in tender moments, to his wife or his mistress, may defeat all his schemes. Is he avaricious? Some great lucrative object, suddenly presenting itself, may unravel all the work of his ambition. Is he passionate? Contradiction and provocation (sometimes, it may be, too, artfully intended) may extort rash and inconsiderate expressions, or actions destructive of his main object. Is he vain, and open to flattery? An artful, flattering favorite may mislead him; and even laziness may, at certain moments, make him neglect or omit the necessary steps to that height at which he wants to arrive. Seek first, then, for the predominant passion of the character which you mean to engage and influence, and address yourself to it; but without defying or despising the inferior passions; get them in your interest too, for now and then they will have their turns. In many cases, you may not have it in your power to contribute to the gratification of the prevailing passion; then take the next best to your aid. There are many avenues to every man; and when you cannot get at him through the great one, try the serpentine ones, and you will arrive at last.
I've often told you (and it's absolutely true) that when it comes to people, we shouldn't make sweeping generalizations based on specific principles, even if those principles are generally correct. Just because someone is a rational being doesn’t mean they’ll always act rationally; or that because they have a certain dominant passion, they will consistently act in pursuit of it. No. We are complex beings: while we have one main driver that keeps us moving, there are countless smaller mechanisms that can slow, speed up, or even halt that movement. Let's illustrate this. I’ll assume ambition is (as it usually is) the main passion of a government official; and let’s say this official is capable. Does that mean he’ll always chase the goals of that passion? Can I be sure he’ll behave in a certain way just because he should? Not at all. Illness or a bad mood can dampen this driving passion; moodiness and irritability can take over. Lesser passions can sometimes catch him off guard and take precedence. Is this ambitious politician in love? Thoughtless and reckless confidences shared in intimate moments with his partner may derail all his plans. Is he greedy? A sudden opportunity for profit might unravel all his ambitious efforts. Is he hot-tempered? Disagreements and provocations (sometimes deliberately designed) could provoke hasty and careless words or actions that undermine his main goals. Is he vain and susceptible to flattery? A cunning and flattering favorite might lead him astray; and even laziness can cause him to overlook crucial steps needed to achieve his ambitions. So first, identify the dominant passion of the person you want to influence and focus on that; but don’t ignore or underestimate the lesser passions—win them over too, because they can rise to the forefront at times. In many situations, you might not be able to help satisfy the main passion, so find the next best thing as an alternative. There are many pathways to reach a person; and when you can’t get through the main one, try the winding routes, and you’ll eventually get there.
There are two inconsistent passions, which, however, frequently accompany each other, like man and wife; and which, like man and wife too, are commonly clogs upon each other. I mean ambition and avarice: the latter is often the true cause of the former, and then is the predominant passion. It seems to have been so in Cardinal Mazarin, who did anything, submitted to anything, and forgave anything, for the sake of plunder. He loved and courted power, like a usurer, because it carried profit along with it. Whoever should have formed his opinion, or taken his measures, singly, from the ambitious part of Cardinal Mazarin’s character, would have found himself often mistaken. Some who had found this out, made their fortunes by letting him cheat them at play. On the contrary, Cardinal Richelieu’s prevailing passion seems to have been ambition, and his immense riches only the natural consequences of that ambition gratified; and yet, I make no doubt, but that ambition had now and then its turn with the former, and avarice with the latter. Richelieu (by the way) is so strong a proof of the inconsistency of human nature, that I cannot help observing to you, that while he absolutely governed both his king and his country, and was, in a great degree, the arbiter of the fate of all Europe, he was more jealous of the great reputation of Corneille than of the power of Spain; and more flattered with being thought (what he was not) the best poet, than with being thought (what he certainly was) the greatest statesman in Europe; and affairs stood still while he was concerting the criticism upon the Cid. Could one think this possible, if one did not know it to be true? Though men are all of one composition, the several ingredients are so differently proportioned in each individual, that no two are exactly alike; and no one at all times like himself. The ablest man will sometimes do weak things; the proudest man, mean things; the honestest man, ill things; and the wickedest man, good ones. Study individuals then, and if you take (as you ought to do,) their outlines from their prevailing passion, suspend your last finishing strokes till you have attended to, and discovered the operations of their inferior passions, appetites, and humors. A man’s general character may be that of the honestest man of the world: do not dispute it; you might be thought envious or ill-natured; but, at the same time, do not take this probity upon trust to such a degree as to put your life, fortune, or reputation in his power. This honest man may happen to be your rival in power, in interest, or in love; three passions that often put honesty to most severe trials, in which it is too often cast; but first analyze this honest man yourself; and then only you will be able to judge how far you may, or may not, with safety trust him.
There are two conflicting passions that often go hand in hand, like a married couple; and like a married couple, they often hinder each other. I mean ambition and greed: the latter is often the real driver of the former, and usually becomes the stronger passion. It seems this was the case with Cardinal Mazarin, who would do anything, endure anything, and forgive anything for the sake of wealth. He pursued power like a moneylender because it came with profit. Anyone who only focused on the ambitious side of Cardinal Mazarin’s character would often find themselves misled. Some people who realized this made their fortunes by letting him con them at cards. In contrast, Cardinal Richelieu seemed to be driven by ambition, with his vast wealth being a natural result of that ambition fulfilled; yet, I have no doubt that ambition occasionally switched places with greed, and vice versa. Richelieu is such a clear example of human nature's inconsistency that I can't help but mention that while he completely controlled both his king and his country, and was to a large extent the decision-maker for all of Europe, he was more concerned about the great reputation of Corneille than the power of Spain; and he cared more about being thought (wrongly) the best poet than about being recognized (correctly) as the greatest statesman in Europe. Meanwhile, matters stalled as he deliberated over critiques of the Cid. Would one believe this if one didn't know it to be true? Though all men share a similar makeup, the various components are mixed in such different amounts in each person that no two are exactly alike, and no one is consistently like themselves. The most capable person will sometimes do foolish things; the proudest person will do petty things; the most honest person will do wrong things; and the most wicked person will do good things. Therefore, study individuals, and if you take (as you should) their outlines from their dominant passion, hold off on your final judgments until you’ve looked into and understood the influence of their lesser passions, desires, and moods. A person might generally be seen as the most honest person in the world: don’t dispute it; you might come off as envious or ill-tempered. However, don’t take this honesty at face value to the extent that you put your life, wealth, or reputation in their hands. This honest person could be your rival in power, interests, or love; three passions that often test honesty to its breaking point, where it frequently fails. But first, analyze this honest person yourself; only then will you be in a position to judge how far you can, or cannot, safely trust them.
Women are much more like each other than men: they have, in truth, but two passions, vanity and love; these are their universal characteristics. An Agrippina may sacrifice them to ambition, or a Messalina to lust; but those instances are rare; and, in general, all they say, and all they do, tends to the gratification of their vanity or their love. He who flatters them most, pleases them best; and they are the most in love with him, who they think is the most in love with them. No adulation is too strong for them; no assiduity too great; no simulation of passion too gross; as, on the other hand, the least word or action that can possibly be construed into a slight or contempt, is unpardonable, and never forgotten. Men are in this respect tender too, and will sooner forgive an injury than an insult. Some men are more captious than others; some are always wrongheaded; but every man living has such a share of vanity, as to be hurt by marks of slight and contempt. Every man does not pretend to be a poet, a mathematician, or a statesman, and considered as such; but every man pretends to common sense, and to fill his place in the world with common decency; and, consequently, does not easily forgive those negligences, inattentions and slights which seem to call in question, or utterly deny him both these pretensions.
Women are more similar to each other than men are: they really only have two passions, vanity and love; these are their universal traits. An Agrippina might sacrifice them for ambition, or a Messalina for lust; but those cases are rare, and generally, everything they say and do aims to satisfy their vanity or their love. The person who flatters them the most is the one they like best; and they are most drawn to the one they believe loves them the most. No amount of flattery is too much for them; no devotion is too great; no display of passion is too exaggerated; on the flip side, even the slightest word or action that can be seen as an insult or contempt is unforgivable and never forgotten. Men are also sensitive in this way and tend to forgive injuries more easily than insults. Some men are more critical than others; some are consistently stubborn; but every man has enough vanity to be hurt by signs of disrespect and contempt. Not every man claims to be a poet, a mathematician, or a statesman, and expects to be seen as such; but every man claims to have common sense and to fulfill his role in the world with basic decency; therefore, he does not easily forgive neglect, inattention, and slights that seem to challenge or completely deny those claims.
Suspect, in general, those who remarkably affect any one virtue; who raise it above all others, and who, in a manner, intimate that they possess it exclusively. I say suspect them, for they are commonly impostors; but do not be sure that they are always so; for I have sometimes known saints really religious, blusterers really brave, reformers of manners really honest, and prudes really chaste. Pry into the recesses of their hearts yourself, as far as you are able, and never implicitly adopt a character upon common fame; which, though generally right as to the great outlines of characters, is always wrong in some particulars.
Be wary of those who overly emphasize a single virtue, elevating it above all others and suggesting they possess it exclusively. I say be cautious, because they're often fakes; however, don’t assume they're always like that. I’ve known genuine saints who are truly devout, boastful people who are genuinely brave, moral reformers who are honestly upright, and prudes who are genuinely virtuous. Investigate their true nature as much as you can, and never accept someone's character solely based on reputation; while public perception may capture the general idea of a person, it often gets the details wrong.
Be upon your guard against those who upon very slight acquaintance, obtrude their unasked and unmerited friendship and confidence upon you; for they probably cram you with them only for their own eating; but, at the same time, do not roughly reject them upon that general supposition. Examine further, and see whether those unexpected offers flow from a warm heart and a silly head, or from a designing head and a cold heart; for knavery and folly have often the same symptoms. In the first case, there is no danger in accepting them, ‘valeant quantum valere possunt’. In the latter case, it may be useful to seem to accept them, and artfully to turn the battery upon him who raised it.
Be cautious of those who, after just a brief introduction, force their unsolicited and undeserved friendship and trust on you; they probably do so for their own benefit. However, don’t abruptly dismiss them based on that assumption alone. Look deeper and see if those unexpected gestures come from a genuine heart and a naive mind, or from a calculating mind and a cold heart; deception and foolishness often look alike. In the first situation, there's no harm in accepting their friendship, “valeant quantum valere possunt”. In the second situation, it might be wise to appear to accept them and cleverly redirect the attention to the person who initiated it.
There is an incontinency of friendship among young fellows, who are associated by their mutual pleasures only, which has, very frequently, bad consequences. A parcel of warm hearts and inexperienced heads, heated by convivial mirth, and possibly a little too much wine, vow, and really mean at the time, eternal friendships to each other, and indiscreetly pour out their whole souls in common, and without the least reserve. These confidences are as indiscreetly repealed as they were made; for new pleasures and new places soon dissolve this ill-cemented connection; and then very ill uses are made of these rash confidences. Bear your part, however, in young companies; nay, excel, if you can, in all the social and convivial joy and festivity that become youth. Trust them with your love tales, if you please; but keep your serious views secret. Trust those only to some tried friend, more experienced than yourself, and who, being in a different walk of life from you, is not likely to become your rival; for I would not advise you to depend so much upon the heroic virtue of mankind, as to hope or believe that your competitor will ever be your friend, as to the object of that competition.
Friendship among young people often lacks stability, as it's based only on shared fun, which often leads to negative outcomes. A group of passionate, inexperienced individuals, caught up in laughter and maybe a bit too much alcohol, promise each other eternal friendship and openly share their feelings without holding back. However, these confessions are just as carelessly forgotten as they were shared; new fun and new circles quickly break this weak bond, leading to misuse of these hasty disclosures. Participate in social gatherings, and even stand out if you can in the joy and celebration that comes with youth. Share your love stories if you wish, but keep your serious thoughts to yourself. Only confide in a trusted friend who has more life experience than you and is in a different field, making them less likely to be your rival. I wouldn't suggest you count too much on the heroic nature of people, hoping or believing that your competitor will turn into your ally concerning the object of that competition.
These are reserves and cautions very necessary to have, but very imprudent to show; the ‘volto sciolto’ should accompany them. Adieu.
These are important reserves and cautions to have, but it's unwise to show them; the 'volto sciolto' should go along with them. Goodbye.
LETTER XCVIII
DEAR BOY: Great talents and great virtues (if you should have them) will procure you the respect and the admiration of mankind; but it is the lesser talents, the ‘leniores virtutes’, which must procure you their love and affection. The former, unassisted and unadorned by the latter, will extort praise; but will, at the same time, excite both fear and envy; two sentiments absolutely incompatible with love and affection.
DEAR BOY: Having great talents and virtues (if you possess them) will earn you the respect and admiration of people; however, it's the smaller talents, the 'leniores virtutes', that will earn you their love and affection. The former, without the support of the latter, will demand praise, but will also stir up fear and envy—two feelings that are completely incompatible with love and affection.
Caesar had all the great vices, and Cato all the great virtues, that men could have. But Caesar had the ‘leniores virtutes’ which Cato wanted, and which made him beloved, even by his enemies, and gained him the hearts of mankind, in spite of their reason: while Cato was not even beloved by his friends, notwithstanding the esteem and respect which they could not refuse to his virtues; and I am apt to think, that if Caesar had wanted, and Cato possessed, those ‘leniores virtutes’, the former would not have attempted (at least with success), and the latter could have protected, the liberties of Rome. Mr. Addison, in his “Cato,” says of Caesar (and I believe with truth),
Caesar had all the major flaws, and Cato had all the major virtues that a person could possess. However, Caesar had the "softer virtues" that Cato lacked, which made him liked even by his enemies and won him the admiration of people, despite their logic. In contrast, Cato wasn’t even liked by his friends, despite the respect and admiration they couldn't deny for his virtues. I believe that if Caesar had lacked those "softer virtues," and Cato had them, then Caesar wouldn't have succeeded in his ambitions, and Cato could have protected the liberties of Rome. Mr. Addison, in his “Cato,” says of Caesar (and I believe it to be true),
“Curse on his virtues, they’ve undone his country.”
“Curse his good qualities; they’ve ruined his country.”
By which he means those lesser, but engaging virtues of gentleness, affability, complaisance, and good humor. The knowledge of a scholar, the courage of a hero, and the virtue of a Stoic, will be admired; but if the knowledge be accompanied with arrogance, the courage with ferocity, and the virtue with inflexible severity, the man will never be loved. The heroism of Charles XII. of Sweden (if his brutal courage deserves that name) was universally admired, but the man nowhere beloved. Whereas Henry IV. of France, who had full as much courage, and was much longer engaged in wars, was generally beloved upon account of his lesser and social virtues. We are all so formed, that our understandings are generally the DUPES of our hearts, that is, of our passions; and the surest way to the former is through the latter, which must be engaged by the ‘leniores virtutes’ alone, and the manner of exerting them. The insolent civility of a proud man is (for example) if possible, more shocking than his rudeness could be; because he shows you by his manner that he thinks it mere condescension in him; and that his goodness alone bestows upon you what you have no pretense to claim. He intimates his protection, instead of his friendship, by a gracious nod, instead of a usual bow; and rather signifies his consent that you may, than his invitation that you should sit, walk, eat, or drink with him.
By this, he refers to those smaller, yet appealing qualities of kindness, friendliness, politeness, and a good sense of humor. A scholar's knowledge, a hero's bravery, and a Stoic's virtue may be respected, but if that knowledge comes with arrogance, bravery with aggression, and virtue with harshness, the person will never be truly loved. The heroism of Charles XII of Sweden (if his brutal courage deserves to be called that) was admired everywhere, but he was not beloved. In contrast, Henry IV of France, who had just as much courage and was involved in wars for much longer, was generally loved because of his gentler and more social qualities. We are all made in such a way that our minds often fall victim to our hearts, meaning our emotions; and the best way to reach the mind is through the heart, which can only be engaged by those gentler virtues and how they are expressed. The arrogant politeness of a proud person, for instance, can be even more off-putting than their rudeness; because they display through their demeanor that they think of it as mere condescension, as if their goodness alone grants you something you have no right to expect. They hint at their protection rather than their friendship with a courteous nod instead of a normal bow, and they imply their permission for you to join them rather than truly inviting you to sit, walk, eat, or drink with them.
The costive liberality of a purse-proud man insults the distresses it sometimes relieves; he takes care to make you feel your own misfortunes, and the difference between your situation and his; both which he insinuates to be justly merited: yours, by your folly; his, by his wisdom. The arrogant pedant does not communicate, but promulgates his knowledge. He does not give it you, but he inflicts it upon you; and is (if possible) more desirous to show you your own ignorance than his own learning. Such manners as these, not only in the particular instances which I have mentioned, but likewise in all others, shock and revolt that little pride and vanity which every man has in his heart; and obliterate in us the obligation for the favor conferred, by reminding us of the motive which produced, and the manner which accompanied it.
The stingy generosity of a wealthy man insults the struggles it sometimes eases; he makes sure you feel your own misfortunes and the gap between your life and his, both of which he suggests are rightfully earned: yours due to your foolishness; his because of his wisdom. The arrogant know-it-all doesn't share his knowledge; he broadcasts it. He doesn't give it to you; he imposes it on you, and, if possible, is even more eager to highlight your own ignorance than his own smarts. Such behavior, not just in the specific examples I've mentioned but in all others, shocks and offends the small pride and vanity we all have; it wipes out any sense of obligation for the favor given by reminding us of the motive behind it and the way it was delivered.
These faults point out their opposite perfections, and your own good sense will naturally suggest them to you.
These flaws highlight their opposite strengths, and your own common sense will naturally bring them to mind.
But besides these lesser virtues, there are what may be called the lesser talents, or accomplishments, which are of great use to adorn and recommend all the greater; and the more so, as all people are judges of the one, and but few are of the other. Everybody feels the impression, which an engaging address, an agreeable manner of speaking, and an easy politeness, makes upon them; and they prepare the way for the favorable reception of their betters. Adieu.
But aside from these minor virtues, there are also what could be called the minor talents or skills, which are very helpful in enhancing and promoting all the greater ones; and this is particularly true because everyone can judge the former, while only a few can assess the latter. Everyone notices the effect that a charming demeanor, an appealing way of speaking, and effortless courtesy have on them; and these qualities pave the way for a positive reception of those who are more accomplished. Goodbye.
LETTER XCIX
LONDON, December 26, O. S. 1749.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The new year is the season in which custom seems more particularly to authorize civil and harmless lies, under the name of compliments. People reciprocally profess wishes which they seldom form; and concern, which they seldom feel. This is not the case between you and me, where truth leaves no room for compliments.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The new year is a time when it's customary to give polite and harmless lies, called compliments. People exchange well wishes that they rarely mean and show concern they hardly feel. But that's not true between you and me, where honesty takes away the need for compliments.
‘Dii tibi dent annos, de to nam caetera sumes’, was said formerly to one by a man who certainly did not think it. With the variation of one word only, I will with great truth say it to you. I will make the first part conditional by changing, in the second, the ‘nam’ into ‘si’. May you live as long as you are fit to live, but no longer! or may you rather die before you cease to be fit to live, than after! My true tenderness for you makes me think more of the manner than of the length of your life, and forbids me to wish it prolonged, by a single day, that should bring guilt, reproach, and shame upon you. I have not malice enough in my nature, to wish that to my greatest enemy. You are the principal object of all my cares, the only object of all my hopes; I have now reason to believe, that you will reward the former, and answer the latter; in that case, may you live long, for you must live happy; ‘de te nam caetera sumes’. Conscious virtue is the only solid foundation of all happiness; for riches, power, rank, or whatever, in the common acceptation of the word, is supposed to constitute happiness, will never quiet, much less cure, the inward pangs of guilt. To that main wish, I will add those of the good old nurse of Horace, in his epistle to Tibullus: ‘Sapere’, you have it in a good degree already. ‘Et fari ut possit quae sentiat’. Have you that? More, much more is meant by it, than common speech or mere articulation. I fear that still remains to be wished for, and I earnestly wish it to you. ‘Gratia and Fama’ will inevitably accompany the above-mentioned qualifications. The ‘Valetudo’ is the only one that is not in your own power; Heaven alone can grant it you, and may it do so abundantly! As for the ‘mundus victus, non deficiente crumena’, do you deserve, and I will provide them.
“‘May the years be given to you, for the rest you will take for yourself,’ was once said to someone by a man who didn’t truly believe it. With just one word changed, I’ll say it to you with complete honesty. I’ll make the first part conditional by changing, in the second, ‘for’ into ‘if’. May you live as long as you’re fit to live, but not a day longer! Or may you rather die before you stop being fit to live than after! My genuine care for you makes me focus more on the quality than the length of your life, and stops me from wishing it prolonged by a single day that would bring guilt, blame, and shame upon you. I don’t have enough malice in me to wish that upon my worst enemy. You are my main concern, the only source of my hopes; I now have reason to believe that you will reward my concerns and fulfill my hopes; in that case, may you live long, because you must live happily; ‘for you will take the rest’. A clear conscience is the only solid foundation for true happiness; for wealth, power, status, or anything else commonly thought to bring happiness will never soothe, much less cure, the internal pain of guilt. To that main wish, I add those of the good old nurse of Horace, in his letter to Tibullus: ‘You have good sense,’ and you have it to a significant degree. ‘And to express what you feel.’ Do you have that? There’s much more implied in it than just ordinary speech or mere talking. I worry that you still need that, and I sincerely wish it for you. ‘Grace and Fame’ will inevitably come with those qualities mentioned above. The ‘Health’ is the only one that isn’t in your control; only Heaven can grant that to you, and may it do so generously! As for the ‘luxurious lifestyle, without lacking in resources,’ if you deserve it, I will provide it.”
It is with the greatest pleasure that I consider the fair prospect which you have before you. You have seen, read, and learned more, at your age, than most young fellows have done at two or three-and-twenty. Your destination is a shining one, and leads to rank, fortune, and distinction. Your education has been calculated for it; and, to do you justice, that education has not been thrown away upon you. You want but two things, which do not want conjuration, but only care, to acquire: eloquence and manners; that is, the graces of speech, and the graces of behavior. You may have them; they are as much in your power as powdering your hair is; and will you let the want of them obscure (as it certainly will do) that shining prospect which presents itself to you. I am sure you will not. They are the sharp end, the point of the nail that you are driving, which must make way first for the larger and more solid parts to enter. Supposing your moral character as pure, and your knowledge as sound, as I really believe them both to be; you want nothing for that perfection, which I have so constantly wished you, and taken so much pains to give you, but eloquence and politeness. A man who is not born with a poetical genius, can never be a poet, or at best an extremely bad one; but every man, who can speak at all, can speak elegantly and correctly if he pleases, by attending to the best authors and orators; and, indeed, I would advise those who do not speak elegantly, not to speak at all; for I am sure they will get more by their silence than by their speech. As for politeness: whoever keeps good company, and is not polite, must have formed a resolution, and take some pains not to be so; otherwise he would naturally and insensibly take the air, the address, and the turn of those he converses with. You will, probably, in the course of this year, see as great a variety of good company in the several capitals you will be at, as in any one year of your life; and consequently must (I should hope) catch some of their manners, almost whether you will or not; but, as I dare say you will endeavor to do it, I am convinced you will succeed, and that I shall have pleasure of finding you, at your return here, one of the best-bred men in Europe.
I'm really pleased to reflect on the bright future that lies ahead of you. You've seen, read, and learned more at your age than most young people do by their early twenties. Your path is a promising one, leading to status, wealth, and recognition. Your education has prepared you for this, and honestly, you’ve made good use of it. You just need two things, which only require attention and effort to achieve: eloquence and manners; that is, the art of speaking well and behaving graciously. You can absolutely attain them; they are within your reach just like styling your hair. Letting the lack of these qualities diminish your promising future would be a mistake, and I know you won't allow that. They are the crucial aspects—the fine points that need to be in place before you can move forward with the more substantial parts of your goals. Assuming your moral character is as pure and your knowledge as solid as I truly believe they are, you only need eloquence and politeness to reach that perfection I’ve always hoped for you and worked hard to help you achieve. A person without a natural poetic ability can never become a true poet, or at best be a very poor one; but anyone who can speak at all can speak elegantly and correctly if they want to, by paying attention to great authors and speakers. In fact, I’d advise those who can’t speak elegantly to remain silent, as they'll likely gain more from that than from poor speech. Regarding politeness: anyone who associates with good company but isn't polite must have made a conscious choice to act that way; otherwise, they would naturally pick up the manners and style of those around them. Over the course of this year, you will likely encounter a wide variety of excellent company in the different capitals you visit, probably more than in any other year of your life; so you should, I hope, pick up some of their manners almost effortlessly. However, knowing you’ll likely make an effort to do so, I’m confident you’ll succeed, and I look forward to seeing you return as one of the best-mannered individuals in Europe.
I imagine, that when you receive my letters, and come to those parts of them which relate to eloquence and politeness, you say, or at least think, What, will he never have done upon those two subjects? Has he not said all he can say upon them? Why the same thing over and over again? If you do think or say so, it must proceed from your not yet knowing the infinite importance of these two accomplishments, which I cannot recommend to you too often, nor inculcate too strongly. But if, on the contrary, you are convinced of the utility, or rather the necessity of those two accomplishments, and are determined to acquire them, my repeated admonitions are only unnecessary; and I grudge no trouble which can possibly be of the least use to you.
I imagine that when you get my letters and read the parts about eloquence and politeness, you either say or at least think, "Will he ever stop talking about these two topics? Hasn't he said everything he can? Why repeat the same thing over and over?" If that’s what you think or say, it’s probably because you don’t yet understand how incredibly important these two skills are, which I can’t recommend enough or emphasize too strongly. But if you believe in the value, or rather the necessity, of these skills and are committed to developing them, then my reminders are just unnecessary, and I don’t mind putting in any effort that could be even a little helpful to you.
I flatter myself, that your stay at Rome will go a great way toward answering all my views: I am sure it will, if you employ your time, and your whole time, as you should. Your first morning hours, I would have you devote to your graver studies with Mr. Harte; the middle part of the day I would have employed in seeing things; and the evenings in seeing people. You are not, I hope, of a lazy, inactive turn, in either body or mind; and, in that case, the day is full long enough for everything; especially at Rome, where it is not the fashion, as it is here and at Paris, to embezzle at least half of it at table. But if, by accident, two or three hours are sometimes wanting for some useful purpose, borrow them from your sleep. Six, or at most seven hours sleep is, for a constancy, as much as you or anybody can want; more is only laziness and dozing; and is, I am persuaded, both unwholesome and stupefying. If, by chance, your business, or your pleasures, should keep you up till four or five o’clock in the morning, I would advise you, however, to rise exactly at your usual time, that you may not lose the precious morning hours; and that the want of sleep may force you to go to bed earlier the next night. This is what I was advised to do when very young, by a very wise man; and what, I assure you, I always did in the most dissipated part of my life. I have very often gone to bed at six in the morning and rose, notwithstanding, at eight; by which means I got many hours in the morning that my companions lost; and the want of sleep obliged me to keep good hours the next, or at least the third night. To this method I owe the greatest part of my reading: for, from twenty to forty, I should certainly have read very little, if I had not been up while my acquaintances were in bed. Know the true value of time; snatch, seize, and enjoy every moment of it. No idleness, no laziness, no procrastination; never put off till to-morrow what you can do today. That was the rule of the famous and unfortunate Pensionary De Witt; who, by strictly following it, found time, not only to do the whole business of the republic, but to pass his evenings at assemblies and suppers, as if he had had nothing else to do or think of.
I believe that your time in Rome will greatly contribute to achieving all my goals: I’m sure it will if you use your time, and your entire time, wisely. I recommend dedicating your mornings to serious studies with Mr. Harte; spend the middle of the day exploring places; and reserve the evenings for socializing. I hope you’re not the type who is lazy or inactive, either physically or mentally; if that’s the case, there’s more than enough time in the day for everything, especially in Rome, where it’s not common, like it is here or in Paris, to waste at least half of it at the dinner table. However, if you find yourself short on time for something important, steal a few hours from your sleep. Six or, at most, seven hours of sleep is generally all you or anyone needs; any more is just laziness and dozing off, which I believe is both unhealthy and dulling. If your activities or leisure keep you up until four or five in the morning, I suggest you still get up at your usual time so you don’t waste those precious morning hours, and the lack of sleep will encourage you to go to bed earlier the next night. This was advice given to me when I was much younger by a very wise person, and I assure you I followed it even during the wildest times in my life. I often went to bed at six in the morning and still woke up at eight; this way, I gained many morning hours that my peers wasted, and the sleep deprivation made me maintain a better sleep schedule the following night, or at least by the third night. I credit this method with most of my reading: between the ages of twenty and forty, I would have definitely read very little if I hadn’t stayed up while my friends were sleeping. Understand the true value of time; grab, seize, and appreciate every moment. No idleness, no laziness, no procrastination; never put off until tomorrow what you can do today. That was the principle of the famous and unfortunate Pensionary De Witt, who, by strictly adhering to it, found time not only to handle the entire business of the republic but also to enjoy his evenings at gatherings and dinners as if he had nothing else to do or think about.
Adieu, my dear friend, for such I shall call you, and as such I shall, for the future, live with you; for I disclaim all titles which imply an authority, that I am persuaded you will never give me occasion to exercise.
Goodbye, my dear friend, for that’s what I will call you, and so I will see you from now on; I reject any titles that suggest authority, which I believe you will never give me a reason to use.
‘Multos et felices’, most sincerely, to Mr. Harte.
‘Many happy returns’, most sincerely, to Mr. Harte.
1750
LETTER C
LETTER C
LONDON, January 8, O. S. 1750
LONDON, Jan 8, 1750
DEAR BOY: I have seldom or never written to you upon the subject of religion and morality; your own reason, I am persuaded, has given you true notions of both; they speak best for themselves; but if they wanted assistance, you have Mr. Harte at hand, both for precept and example; to your own reason, therefore, and to Mr. Harte, shall I refer you for the reality of both, and confine myself in this letter to the decency, the utility, and the necessity of scrupulously preserving the appearances of both. When I say the appearances of religion, I do not mean that you should talk or act like a missionary or an enthusiast, nor that you should take up a controversial cudgel against whoever attacks the sect you are of; this would be both useless and unbecoming your age; but I mean that you should by no means seem to approve, encourage, or applaud, those libertine notions, which strike at religions equally, and which are the poor threadbare topics of halfwits and minute philosophers. Even those who are silly enough to laugh at their jokes, are still wise enough to distrust and detest their characters; for putting moral virtues at the highest, and religion at the lowest, religion must still be allowed to be a collateral security, at least, to virtue, and every prudent man will sooner trust to two securities than to one. Whenever, therefore, you happen to be in company with those pretended ‘Esprits forts’, or with thoughtless libertines, who laugh at all religion to show their wit, or disclaim it, to complete their riot, let no word or look of yours intimate the least approbation; on the contrary, let a silent gravity express your dislike: but enter not into the subject and decline such unprofitable and indecent controversies. Depend upon this truth, that every man is the worse looked upon, and the less trusted for being thought to have no religion; in spite of all the pompous and specious epithets he may assume, of ‘Esprit fort’, freethinker, or moral philosopher; and a wise atheist (if such a thing there is) would, for his own interest and character in this world, pretend to some religion.
DEAR BOY: I have rarely or never written to you about religion and morality; I believe your own reasoning has given you a good understanding of both. They speak for themselves, but if you need support, Mr. Harte is available for both guidance and example. Therefore, I’ll refer you to your own reasoning and to Mr. Harte for the reality of both subjects, and will focus this letter on the importance, usefulness, and necessity of carefully maintaining the appearances of both. When I say the appearances of religion, I don’t mean that you should act or speak like a missionary or an enthusiast, nor should you engage in heated debates against anyone who attacks your beliefs; that would be both pointless and inappropriate for your age. Instead, I mean you should never seem to approve, encourage, or support those libertine ideas that undermine all religions and are the tired clichés of fools and pretentious philosophers. Even those who are foolish enough to laugh at their jokes are still smart enough to distrust and dislike their characters; for placing moral virtues at the highest point and religion at the lowest, religion should still be seen as at least a backup for virtue, and every sensible person would prefer to have two guarantees rather than one. So, whenever you find yourself in the company of those so-called ‘free thinkers’ or thoughtless libertines who mock all religion to show off their wit, or reject it to indulge in their debauchery, let your words and expressions show no approval; instead, let a serious demeanor reflect your disapproval. But don’t engage in the topic, and avoid such pointless and inappropriate arguments. Trust this truth: that everyone is viewed more negatively and trusted less if they are seen as having no religion, despite any impressive titles they may adopt, like ‘free thinker’ or ‘moral philosopher’; and a wise atheist (if such a thing exists) would, for his own benefit and reputation in this world, pretend to hold some religion.
Your moral character must be not only pure, but, like Caesar’s wife, unsuspected. The least speck or blemish upon it is fatal. Nothing degrades and vilifies more, for it excites and unites detestation and contempt. There are, however, wretches in the world profligate enough to explode all notions of moral good and evil; to maintain that they are merely local, and depend entirely upon the customs and fashions of different countries; nay, there are still, if possible, more unaccountable wretches; I mean those who affect to preach and propagate such absurd and infamous notions without believing them themselves. These are the devil’s hypocrites. Avoid, as much as possible, the company of such people; who reflect a degree of discredit and infamy upon all who converse with them. But as you may, sometimes, by accident, fall into such company, take great care that no complaisance, no good-humor, no warmth of festal mirth, ever make you seem even to acquiesce, much less to approve or applaud, such infamous doctrines. On the other hand, do not debate nor enter into serious argument upon a subject so much below it: but content yourself with telling these APOSTLES that you know they are not, serious; that you have a much better opinion of them than they would have you have; and that, you are very sure, they would not practice the doctrine they preach. But put your private mark upon them, and shun them forever afterward.
Your moral character needs to be not only pure but also, like Caesar's wife, above suspicion. Even the smallest flaw can be damaging. Nothing tarnishes your reputation more than calling forth disdain and contempt. However, there are some people in the world so morally bankrupt that they reject notions of good and evil, claiming they are just local customs that vary across cultures. What's even more baffling are those who pretend to promote these ridiculous and disgraceful ideas while not truly believing them. These are the hypocrites of evil. Stay away from them as much as you can, as they bring shame and dishonor to anyone who associates with them. But if you accidentally find yourself in their company, make sure that no friendliness, good humor, or festive spirit ever makes you seem like you accept or approve of their disgraceful beliefs. On the flip side, don’t engage in serious discussions about subjects so beneath consideration; just let these preachy individuals know that you see through their facade, that you think better of them than they’d like you to, and that you’re sure they wouldn't actually live by the doctrine they preach. Mark them in your mind and steer clear of them from then on.
There is nothing so delicate as your moral character, and nothing which it is your interest so much to preserve pure. Should you be suspected of injustice, malignity, perfidy, lying, etc., all the parts and knowledge in the world will never procure you esteem, friendship, or respect. A strange concurrence of circumstances has sometimes raised very bad men to high stations, but they have been raised like criminals to a pillory, where their persons and their crimes, by being more conspicuous, are only the more known, the more detested, and the more pelted and insulted. If, in any case whatsoever, affectation and ostentation are pardonable, it is in the case of morality; though even there, I would not advise you to a pharisaical pomp of virtue. But I will recommend to you a most scrupulous tenderness for your moral character, and the utmost care not to say or do the least thing that may ever so slightly taint it. Show yourself, upon all occasions, the advocate, the friend, but not the bully of virtue. Colonel Chartres, whom you have certainly heard of (who was, I believe, the most notorious blasted rascal in the world, and who had, by all sorts of crimes, amassed immense wealth), was so sensible of the disadvantage of a bad character, that I heard him once say, in his impudent, profligate manner, that though he would not give one farthing for virtue, he would give ten thousand pounds for a character; because he should get a hundred thousand pounds by it; whereas, he was so blasted, that he had no longer an opportunity of cheating people. Is it possible, then, that an honest man can neglect what a wise rogue would purchase so dear?
There’s nothing as fragile as your moral character, and nothing that’s more important for you to keep clean. If you’re suspected of unfairness, malice, deceit, or lying, no amount of skills or knowledge will earn you esteem, friendship, or respect. Sometimes, a strange mix of circumstances has lifted really bad people to high positions, but they’ve risen like criminals to a gallows, where their actions and their crimes, becoming more visible, are only more recognized, more hated, and more pelted with insults. If there’s ever a time when affectation and showiness are acceptable, it’s in the name of morality; though even then, I wouldn’t advise you to go for a pharisaical display of virtue. Instead, I suggest that you take great care of your moral character and make sure not to say or do anything that could even slightly stain it. Be the supporter and friend of virtue at all times, but never its bully. Colonel Chartres, who you’ve surely heard of (who was, I believe, the most infamous scoundrel in the world, and who had amassed great wealth through all sorts of crimes), was so aware of the drawbacks of a bad reputation that I once heard him say, in his brazen and reckless way, that while he wouldn’t spend a dime on virtue, he’d pay ten thousand pounds for a good reputation because he could make a hundred thousand pounds from it; meanwhile, he was so disgraced that he no longer had the chance to cheat anyone. So how can an honest person ignore what a clever rogue would pay so much to obtain?
There is one of the vices above mentioned, into which people of good education, and, in the main, of good principles, sometimes fall, from mistaken notions of skill, dexterity, and self-defense, I mean lying; though it is inseparably attended with more infamy and loss than any other. The prudence and necessity of often concealing the truth, insensibly seduces people to violate it. It is the only art of mean capacities, and the only refuge of mean spirits. Whereas, concealing the truth, upon proper occasions, is as prudent and as innocent, as telling a lie, upon any occasion, is infamous and foolish. I will state you a case in your own department. Suppose you are employed at a foreign court, and that the minister of that court is absurd or impertinent enough to ask you what your instructions are? will you tell him a lie, which as soon as found out (and found out it certainly will be) must destroy your credit, blast your character, and render you useless there? No. Will you tell him the truth then, and betray your trust? As certainly, No. But you will answer with firmness, That you are surprised at such a question, that you are persuaded he does not expect an answer to it; but that, at all events, he certainly will not have one. Such an answer will give him confidence in you; he will conceive an opinion of your veracity, of which opinion you may afterward make very honest and fair advantages. But if, in negotiations, you are looked upon as a liar and a trickster, no confidence will be placed in you, nothing will be communicated to you, and you will be in the situation of a man who has been burned in the cheek; and who, from that mark, cannot afterward get an honest livelihood if he would, but must continue a thief.
There's one of the vices mentioned above that even well-educated people with good principles can fall into, due to mistaken ideas about skill, cleverness, and self-defense—I'm talking about lying. It's linked to more shame and loss than any other vice. The need to often hide the truth can subtly lead people to break it. Lying is the only skill of low-minded individuals, and the only refuge for frail spirits. On the other hand, concealing the truth when appropriate is as smart and innocent as telling a lie in any situation is disgraceful and foolish. Let me give you an example related to your field. Imagine you’re working at a foreign court, and the minister there is rude or silly enough to ask what your instructions are. Will you lie to him, knowing that as soon as he finds out (which he definitely will), it will ruin your reputation, damage your character, and make you worthless there? No. Will you tell him the truth and betray your trust? Absolutely not. Instead, you should respond firmly, saying you’re surprised by the question and you believe he doesn’t expect an answer, but, in any case, he definitely won’t get one. Such a reply will inspire confidence in you; he will form an impression of your honesty, which you can later use to your advantage. But if, during negotiations, you’re seen as a liar and a schemer, nobody will trust you, nothing will be shared with you, and you’ll be in the position of a person who has been scarred on the cheek; and from that mark, he can't earn an honest living no matter how hard he tries, but must continue to steal.
Lord Bacon, very justly, makes a distinction between simulation and dissimulation; and allows the latter rather than the former; but still observes, that they are the weaker sort of politicians who have recourse to either. A man who has strength of mind and strength of parts, wants neither of them. Certainly (says he) the ablest men that ever were, have all had an openness and frankness of dealing, and a name of certainty and veracity; but then, they were like horses well managed; for they could tell, passing well, when to stop or turn; and at such times, when they thought the case indeed required some dissimulation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the former opinion spread abroad of their good faith and clearness of dealing, made them almost invisible.
Lord Bacon rightly distinguishes between simulation and dissimulation, favoring the latter over the former; however, he notes that it's the less competent politicians who rely on either. A person with mental strength and capability doesn't need either of them. He states that the most capable individuals throughout history have always shown openness and honesty, earning a reputation for reliability and truthfulness. Yet, they were like well-trained horses; they knew exactly when to stop or change direction. If they found it necessary to use dissimulation, it was often so skillfully done that their prior reputation for good faith and transparency made them nearly undetectable.
There are people who indulge themselves in a sort of lying, which they reckon innocent, and which in one sense is so; for it hurts nobody but themselves. This sort of lying is the spurious offspring of vanity, begotten upon folly: these people deal in the marvelous; they have seen some things that never existed; they have seen other things which they never really saw, though they did exist, only because they were thought worth seeing. Has anything remarkable been said or done in any place, or in any company? they immediately present and declare themselves eye or ear witnesses of it. They have done feats themselves, unattempted, or at least unperformed by others. They are always the heroes of their own fables; and think that they gain consideration, or at least present attention, by it. Whereas, in truth, all that they get is ridicule and contempt, not without a good degree of distrust; for one must naturally conclude, that he who will tell any lie from idle vanity, will not scruple telling a greater for interest. Had I really seen anything so very extraordinary as to be almost incredible I would keep it to myself, rather than by telling it give anybody room to doubt, for one minute, of my veracity. It is most certain, that the reputation of chastity is not so necessary for a women, as that of veracity is for a man; and with reason; for it is possible for a woman to be virtuous, though not strictly chaste, but it is not possible for a man to be virtuous without strict veracity. The slips of the poor women are sometimes mere bodily frailties; but a lie in a man is a vice of the mind and of the heart. For God’s sake be scrupulously jealous of the purity of your moral character; keep it immaculate, unblemished, unsullied; and it will be unsuspected. Defamation and calumny never attack, where there is no weak place; they magnify, but they do not create.
There are people who indulge in a kind of lying that they believe is harmless, and in a way it is, because it only hurts themselves. This type of lying is a twisted product of vanity, born from foolishness: these people are obsessed with the extraordinary; they've "seen" things that never really existed; they've "witnessed" things that were real but only because they were deemed worth seeing. When something notable happens anywhere or with anyone, they quickly claim they were there, either as witnesses or participants. They've accomplished things no one else has even attempted—or at least no one else has succeeded at. They’re always the heroes in their own stories and think they earn respect, or at least attention, by doing this. But in reality, all they earn is mockery and disdain, along with a fair amount of distrust; because it’s reasonable to assume that someone willing to tell a lie out of sheer vanity won’t hesitate to tell a bigger one for personal gain. If I had truly witnessed something so extraordinary that it seemed unbelievable, I would keep it to myself rather than risk anyone doubting my honesty by sharing it. It’s definitely true that a woman's reputation for chastity isn’t as crucial as a man's reputation for honesty; and rightfully so, because a woman can be virtuous even if she’s not entirely chaste, but a man cannot be virtuous without absolute honesty. The missteps of women may often be mere physical weaknesses, but a lie from a man is a flaw of the mind and heart. For goodness' sake, be very careful about the integrity of your character; keep it spotless, beyond reproach, and it will remain unchallenged. Slander and gossip only attack where there are weaknesses; they amplify but do not create.
There is a very great difference between the purity of character, which I so earnestly recommend to you, and the stoical gravity and austerity of character, which I do by no means recommend to you. At your age, I would no more wish you to be a Cato than a Clodius. Be, and be reckoned, a man of pleasure as well as a man of business. Enjoy this happy and giddy time of your life; shine in the pleasures, and in the company of people of your own age. This is all to be done, and indeed only can be done, without the least taint to the purity of your moral character; for those mistaken young fellows, who think to shine by an impious or immoral licentiousness, shine only from their stinking, like corrupted flesh, in the dark. Without this purity, you can have no dignity of character; and without dignity of character it is impossible to rise in the world. You must be respectable, if you will be respected. I have known people slattern away their character, without really polluting it; the consequence of which has been, that they have become innocently contemptible; their merit has been dimmed, their pretensions unregarded, and all their views defeated. Character must be kept bright, as well as clean. Content yourself with mediocrity in nothing. In purity of character and in politeness of manners labor to excel all, if you wish to equal many. Adieu.
There is a huge difference between the purity of character that I strongly encourage you to embrace and the stoic seriousness and harshness of character that I definitely don’t recommend. At your age, I wouldn't want you to be a Cato, just as much as I wouldn’t want you to be a Clodius. Be seen as a person who enjoys life as well as someone who is serious about work. Enjoy this fun and carefree time in your life; shine in social settings and enjoy the company of your peers. This can, and should, be done without any harm to your moral character, because those misguided young people who think they can stand out through immoral or reckless behavior only end up being repulsive, like rotting flesh in the dark. Without this purity, you can’t have dignity of character; and without dignity, it’s impossible to advance in the world. You need to be respectable if you want to be respected. I’ve seen people let their character slip without actually ruining it; as a result, they became contemptibly forgettable, their accomplishments faded, their ambitions ignored, and all their goals thwarted. Your character needs to be kept both bright and clean. Strive for excellence in everything, especially in purity of character and politeness; if you want to be on par with many, aim to excel. Goodbye.
LETTER CI
LONDON, January 11, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received a letter from Mr. Harte, of the 31st December, N. S., which I will answer soon; and for which I desire you to return him my thanks now. He tells me two things that give me great satisfaction: one is that there are very few English at Rome; the other is, that you frequent the best foreign companies. This last is a very good symptom; for a man of sense is never desirous to frequent those companies, where he is not desirous to please, or where he finds that he displeases; it will not be expected in those companies, that, at your age, you should have the ‘Garbo’, the ‘Disinvoltura’, and the ‘Leggiadria’ of a man of five-and-twenty, who has been long used to keep the best companies; and therefore do not be discouraged, and think yourself either slighted or laughed at, because you see others, older and more used to the world, easier, more familiar, and consequently rather better received in those companies than yourself. In time your turn will come; and if you do but show an inclination, a desire to please, though you should be embarrassed or even err in the means, which must necessarily happen to you at first, yet the will (to use a vulgar expression) will be taken for the deed; and people, instead of laughing at you, will be glad to instruct you. Good sense can only give you the great outlines of good-breeding; but observation and usage can alone give you the delicate touches, and the fine coloring. You will naturally endeavor to show the utmost respect to people of certain ranks and characters, and consequently you will show it; but the proper, the delicate manner of showing that respect, nothing but observation and time can give.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I got a letter from Mr. Harte, dated December 31, N. S., which I’ll respond to soon; please thank him on my behalf for now. He shares two pieces of news that make me very happy: first, that there are very few English people in Rome; and second, that you mingle with the best foreign social circles. This last point is a great sign; a sensible person doesn't seek out social groups where they don't wish to impress, or where they feel they miss the mark. It’s understandable that, at your age, you may not possess the charm, confidence, and grace of a seasoned twenty-five-year-old who has been around the best social circles for a while. So, don’t feel discouraged or think you’re being ignored or mocked just because you notice that older and more worldly folks seem to fit in more easily. In time, your moment will arrive; if you simply show a willingness to engage and a desire to make a good impression, even if you feel awkward or make mistakes—something that’s bound to happen at the start—people will recognize your intention as if it were a successful act. Rather than mock you, they will be pleased to guide you. Good judgment can provide you with the broad strokes of social etiquette, but only observation and experience can give you the subtle nuances and finesse. You will instinctively strive to show great respect toward people of certain ranks and backgrounds, and you’ll do so; however, the nuanced and proper way to express that respect comes only from keen observation and the passage of time.
I remember that when, with all the awkwardness and rust of Cambridge about me, I was first introduced into good company, I was frightened out of my wits. I was determined to be, what I thought, civil; I made fine low bows, and placed myself below everybody; but when I was spoken to, or attempted to speak myself, ‘obstupui, steteruntque comae, et vox faucibus haesit’. If I saw people whisper, I was sure it was at me; and I thought myself the sole object of either the ridicule or the censure of the whole company, who, God knows, did not trouble their heads about me. In this way I suffered, for some time, like a criminal at the bar; and should certainly have renounced all polite company forever, if I had not been so convinced of the absolute necessity of forming my manners upon those of the best companies, that I determined to persevere and suffer anything, or everything, rather than not compass that point. Insensibly it grew easier to me; and I began not to bow so ridiculously low, and to answer questions without great hesitation or stammering: if, now and then, some charitable people, seeing my embarrassment, and being ‘desoevre’ themselves, came and spoke to me, I considered them as angels sent to comfort me, and that gave me a little courage. I got more soon afterward, and was intrepid enough to go up to a fine woman, and tell her that I thought it a warm day; she answered me, very civilly, that she thought so too; upon which the conversation ceased, on my part, for some time, till she, good-naturedly resuming it, spoke to me thus: “I see your embarrassment, and I am sure that the few words you said to me cost you a great deal; but do not be discouraged for that reason, and avoid good company. We see that you desire to please, and that is the main point; you want only the manner, and you think that you want it still more than you do. You must go through your noviciate before you can profess good-breeding: and, if you will be my novice, I will present you my acquaintance as such.”
I remember that when I was first introduced to decent company, feeling all the awkwardness and rust from my time at Cambridge, I was completely terrified. I was determined to be polite; I made exaggerated low bows and positioned myself below everyone else. But when someone spoke to me, or when I tried to speak, I was left speechless. If I saw people whispering, I was certain it was about me, and I thought I was the target of everyone's mockery or criticism, even though, honestly, they weren't paying any attention to me. For a while, I felt like a criminal facing judgment. I probably would have completely given up on polite company if I hadn't believed it was absolutely essential to refine my manners by observing the best of society. So I decided to push through and endure whatever I had to in order to achieve that. Gradually, it became easier. I stopped bowing so awkwardly low and began to respond to questions without too much hesitation or stumbling. Occasionally, some kind individuals noticed my discomfort and, having nothing else to do, came over to talk to me. I saw them as angels sent to lift my spirits, which gave me a bit of courage. I soon gained more confidence and even mustered the nerve to approach a lovely woman and mentioned that I thought it was a warm day. She politely agreed, but after that, I struggled to keep the conversation going until she kindly picked it back up, saying, “I can see you’re feeling uncomfortable, and I know that those few words were tough for you. But don’t let that discourage you from seeking good company. We can see you want to fit in, and that’s the most important part. You only need to work on your social skills, and you may think you need more practice than you actually do. You'll need to learn the ropes before you can be truly refined: if you’ll be my mentee, I’ll introduce you to my friends as such.”
You will easily imagine how much this speech pleased me, and how awkwardly I answered it; I hemmed once or twice (for it gave me a bur in my throat) before I could tell her that I was very much obliged to her; that it was true, that I had a great deal of reason to distrust my own behavior, not being used to fine company; and that I should be proud of being her novice, and receiving her instructions.
You can easily picture how much this speech made me happy, and how awkwardly I responded; I hesitated a couple of times (it kind of choked me up) before I could tell her how grateful I was; that it was true, I had plenty of reasons to doubt my own actions since I wasn't used to high-class people; and that I would be honored to be her student and take her guidance.
As soon as I had fumbled out this answer, she called up three or four people to her, and said: Savez-vous (for she was a foreigner, and I was abroad) que j’ai entrepris ce jeune homme, et qu’il le faut rassurer? Pour moi, je crois en avoir fait——[Do you know that I have undertaken this young man, and he must be encouraged? As for me, I think I have made a conquest of him; for he just now ventured to tell me, although tremblingly, that it is warm. You will assist me in polishing him. He must necessarily have a passion for somebody; if he does not think me worthy of being the object, he will seek out some other. However, my novice, do not disgrace yourself by frequenting opera girls and actresses; who will not require of you sentiments and politeness, but will be your ruin in every respect. I repeat it to you, my friend, if you should get into low, mean company, you will be undone. Those creatures will destroy your fortune and your health, corrupt your morals, and you will never acquire the style of good company.]
As soon as I blurted out my answer, she called over three or four people and said: "Do you know that I’ve taken this young man under my wing, and he needs to be encouraged? I think I’ve made some progress with him; he just managed to tell me, though a bit nervously, that it’s warm outside. You’ll help me refine him. He has to have a passion for someone; if he doesn’t see me as a worthy option, he’ll look for someone else. But listen, my novice, don’t embarrass yourself by hanging out with opera girls and actresses. They won’t expect anything of you in terms of feelings and manners, but they’ll lead you to ruin in every way. I’m serious, my friend, if you get involved with low, shady people, you’ll be finished. Those types will ruin your fortune and health, corrupt your morals, and you’ll never develop the elegance of good society."
The company laughed at this lecture, and I was stunned with it. I did not know whether she was serious or in jest. By turns I was pleased, ashamed, encouraged, and dejected. But when I found afterward, that both she, and those to whom she had presented me, countenanced and protected me in company, I gradually got more assurance, and began not to be ashamed of endeavoring to be civil. I copied the best masters, at first servilely, afterward more freely, and at last I joined habit and invention.
The company laughed at this talk, and I was taken aback by it. I couldn't tell if she was being serious or joking. I felt pleased, ashamed, encouraged, and downcast all at once. But when I later realized that both she and the people she introduced me to supported and defended me in public, I slowly gained more confidence and stopped feeling embarrassed about trying to be polite. I imitated the best examples at first very closely, then more freely, and eventually blended my habits with my creativity.
All this will happen to you, if you persevere in the desire of pleasing and shining as a man of the world; that part of your character is the only one about which I have at present the least doubt. I cannot entertain the least suspicion of your moral character; your learned character is out of question. Your polite character is now the only remaining object that gives me the least anxiety; and you are now in the right way of finishing it. Your constant collision with good company will, of course, smooth and polish you. I could wish that you would say, to the five or six men or women with whom you are the most acquainted, that you are sensible that, from youth and inexperience, you must make many mistakes in good-breeding; that you beg of them to correct you, without reserve, wherever they see you fail; and that you shall take such admonition as the strongest proofs of their friendship. Such a confession and application will be very engaging to those to whom you make them. They will tell others of them, who will be pleased with that disposition, and, in a friendly manner, tell you of any little slip or error. The Duke de Nivernois—[At that time Ambassador from the Court of France to Rome.]—would, I am sure, be charmed, if you dropped such a thing to him; adding, that you loved to address yourself always to the best masters. Observe also the different modes of good-breeding of several nations, and conform yourself to them respectively. Use an easy civility with the French, more ceremony with the Italians, and still more with the Germans; but let it be without embarrassment and with ease. Bring it by use to be habitual to you; for, if it seems unwilling and forced; it will never please. ‘Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et res’. Acquire an easiness and versatility of manners, as well as of mind; and, like the chameleon, take the hue of the company you are with.
All this will happen to you if you keep trying to please others and stand out as a person in society; that part of your character is the only one I don’t doubt at all. I have no concerns about your moral character; your intelligence is beyond question. The only remaining aspect that worries me is your social graces, and you're on the right track to improve that. Your ongoing interactions with good company will naturally refine and enhance you. I wish you would tell the five or six people you know best that you realize that, due to your youth and inexperience, you’ll make many mistakes in manners; that you ask them to correct you openly whenever they see you fail; and that you’ll consider their feedback as a strong sign of their friendship. Such a confession will be very appealing to those you share it with. They will share it with others who will appreciate your attitude and, in a friendly way, point out any little mistakes you make. The Duke de Nivernois—[At that time Ambassador from the Court of France to Rome.]—would definitely be delighted if you mentioned this to him, adding that you always want to learn from the best. Also, pay attention to the different ways of being polite in various cultures, and adjust your behavior accordingly. Be casually polite with the French, more formal with the Italians, and even more so with the Germans; but do it all without feeling awkward and stay relaxed. Make it a habit through practice, because if it seems forced or reluctant, it will never be appealing. ‘Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et res’. Develop an easygoing and adaptable manner, as well as a flexible mindset; and, like a chameleon, blend into the company you keep.
There is a sort of veteran women of condition, who having lived always in the ‘grande monde’, and having possibly had some gallantries, together with the experience of five-and-twenty, or thirty years, form a young fellow better than all the rules that can be given him. These women, being past their bloom, are extremely flattered by the least attention from a young fellow; and they will point out to him those manners and ATTENTIONS that pleased and engaged them, when they were in the pride of their youth and beauty. Wherever you go, make some of those women your friends; which a very little matter will do. Ask their advice, tell them your doubts or difficulties as to your behavior; but take great care not to drop one word of their experience; for experience implies age; and the suspicion of age, no woman, let her be ever so old, ever forgives. I long for your picture, which Mr. Harte tells me is now drawing. I want to see your countenance, your air, and even your dress; the better they all three are, the better I am not wise enough to despise any one of them. Your dress, at least, is in your own power, and I hope that you mind it to a proper degree. Yours, Adieu.
There are seasoned women of status who, having always lived in high society and perhaps having had some romantic flings, along with their twenty-five to thirty years of experience, can teach a young man more than any set of rules could. These women, past their prime, are very flattered by the slightest attention from a young man; they will share with him the manners and gestures that impressed them when they were at the height of their youth and beauty. Wherever you go, make some of these women your friends, which doesn’t take much effort. Ask for their advice, share your doubts or challenges regarding your behavior, but be very careful not to mention their experiences; because experience suggests age, and no woman, no matter how old she is, ever forgives the hint of age. I’m eager for your portrait, which Mr. Harte tells me is being drawn. I want to see your face, your demeanor, and even your outfit; the better they all are, the more I recognize their importance. Your outfit, at least, is under your control, and I hope you pay it the right amount of attention. Yours, Adieu.
LETTER CII
LONDON, January 18, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: I consider the solid part of your little edifice as so near being finished and completed, that my only remaining care is about the embellishments; and that must now be your principal care too. Adorn yourself with all those graces and accomplishments, which, without solidity, are frivolous; but without which solidity is, to a great degree, useless. Take one man, with a very moderate degree of knowledge, but with a pleasing figure, a prepossessing address, graceful in all that he says and does, polite, ‘liant’, and, in short, adorned with all the lesser talents: and take another man, with sound sense and profound knowledge, but without the above-mentioned advantages; the former will not only get the better of the latter, in every pursuit of every KIND, but in truth there will be no sort of competition between them. But can every man acquire these advantages? I say, Yes, if he please, suppose he is in a situation and in circumstances to frequent good company. Attention, observation, and imitation, will most infallibly do it.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I think the solid part of your little structure is nearly finished, so my only remaining concern is about the finishing touches; and that should now be your main focus too. Surround yourself with all those graces and skills, which, without a solid foundation, are pointless; but without which, solidity is mostly ineffective. Take one person with just a bit of knowledge, but with a charming appearance, an appealing demeanor, graceful in everything he says and does, polite, adaptable, and basically equipped with all the minor talents: and then take another person with good sense and deep knowledge, but lacking the previously mentioned qualities; the first will not only outshine the second in every type of pursuit, but honestly, there will be no real competition between them. But can anyone acquire these qualities? I say yes, if they want to, provided they are in a position and circumstances that allow them to mingle with good company. Attention, observation, and imitation will surely make that happen.
When you see a man whose first ‘abord’ strikes you, prepossesses you in his favor, and makes you entertain a good opinion of him, you do not know why, analyze that ‘abord’, and examine, within yourself, the several parts that composed it; and you will generally find it to be the result, the happy assemblage of modesty unembarrassed, respect without timidity, a genteel, but unaffected attitude of body and limbs, an open, cheerful, but unsmirking countenance, and a dress, by no means negligent, and yet not foppish. Copy him, then, not servilely, but as some of the greatest masters of painting have copied others; insomuch that their copies have been equal to the originals, both as to beauty and freedom. When you see a man who is universally allowed to shine as an agreeable, well-bred man, and a fine gentleman (as, for example, the Duke de Nivernois), attend to him, watch him carefully; observe in what manner he addresses himself to his superiors, how he lives with his equals, and how he treats his inferiors. Mind his turn of conversation in the several situations of morning visits, the table, and the evening amusements. Imitate, without mimicking him; and be his duplicate, but not his ape. You will find that he takes care never to say or do any thing that can be construed into a slight, or a negligence; or that can, in any degree, mortify people’s vanity and self-love; on the contrary, you will perceive that he makes people pleased with him, by making them first pleased with themselves: he shows respect, regard, esteem and attention, where they are severally proper: he sows them with care, and he reaps them in plenty.
When you see a man whose first impression strikes you, wins you over, and makes you think positively of him, you might not know why. If you analyze that impression and reflect on the different elements that make it up, you'll usually find it comes from a nice blend of effortless modesty, respectful confidence, a polished but natural posture, a warm and friendly yet genuine expression, and attire that is neat but not overly flashy. Try to emulate him, not in a forced way, but as some of the greatest painters have modeled their works after others; their replicas often matched the originals in both beauty and style. When you encounter a man who is widely regarded as charming, well-mannered, and a true gentleman (for instance, the Duke de Nivernois), pay close attention to him; observe how he interacts with his superiors, engages with his peers, and treats those below him. Notice his way of conversing during various situations like morning visits, at the dinner table, and in evening social activities. Imitate him without copying; be his reflection, not his mimic. You’ll see that he carefully avoids saying or doing anything that could be seen as disrespectful or careless, or that might hurt people's pride. Instead, you’ll notice he makes people feel good about themselves, which in turn makes them like him: he shows respect, consideration, and attention when appropriate, carefully planting these seeds, and watching them grow abundantly.
These amiable accomplishments are all to be acquired by use and imitation; for we are, in truth, more than half what we are by imitation. The great point is, to choose good models and to study them with care. People insensibly contract, not only the air, the manners, and the vices, of those with whom they commonly converse, but their virtues too, and even their way of thinking. This is so true, that I have known very plain understandings catch a certain degree of wit, by constantly conversing with those who had a great deal. Persist, therefore, in keeping the best company, and you will insensibly become like them; but if you add attention and observation, you will very soon become one of them. The inevitable contagion of company shows you the necessity of keeping the best, and avoiding all other; for in everyone, something will stick. You have hitherto, I confess, had very few opportunities of keeping polite company. Westminster school is, undoubtedly, the seat of illiberal manners and brutal behavior. Leipsig, I suppose, is not the seat of refined and elegant manners. Venice, I believe, has done something; Rome, I hope, will do a great deal more; and Paris will, I dare say, do all that you want; always supposing that you frequent the best companies, and in the intention of improving and forming yourself; for without that intention nothing will do.
These friendly skills can all be learned through practice and imitation; in fact, we are more than half what we are because of imitation. The key is to choose good role models and study them closely. People unconsciously pick up not just the attitudes, behaviors, and flaws of those they associate with, but also their strengths and even their ways of thinking. This is so true that I’ve seen very ordinary minds gain a degree of wit simply by spending time with those who are witty. So, keep spending time with the best people, and you will gradually become like them; if you also pay attention and observe, you will quickly become one of them. The unavoidable influence of company shows how important it is to surround yourself with the best and avoid all others because something will always rub off on you. Up to now, I admit, you haven't had many chances to mingle with polite society. Westminster School certainly has a reputation for rough manners and brutal behavior. Leipzig, I assume, isn't known for refined and elegant conduct either. Venice, I believe, has made some strides; Rome, I hope, will do much more; and Paris, I'm sure, will give you everything you seek, as long as you frequent the best circles and aim to improve and develop yourself, because without that intention, nothing will work.
I here subjoin a list of all those necessary, ornamental accomplishments (without which, no man living can either please, or rise in the world) which hitherto I fear you want, and which only require your care and attention to possess.
I’ve included a list of all the essential and stylish skills (without which no one can truly succeed or impress in life) that I’m afraid you currently lack, and which only need your effort and focus to acquire.
To speak elegantly, whatever language you speak in; without which nobody will hear you with pleasure, and consequently you will speak to very little purpose.
To speak elegantly, no matter what language you're using; without that, no one will really enjoy listening to you, and as a result, you won't be communicating effectively.
An agreeable and distinct elocution; without which nobody will hear you with patience: this everybody may acquire, who is not born with some imperfection in the organs of speech. You are not; and therefore it is wholly in your power. You need take much less pains for it than Demosthenes did.
A clear and pleasant way of speaking; without it, no one will listen to you patiently: anyone can develop this skill, unless they have a natural speech defect. You don’t have that issue; so it’s entirely within your control. You don’t have to work as hard at it as Demosthenes did.
A distinguished politeness of manners and address; which common sense, observation, good company, and imitation, will infallibly give you if you will accept it.
A notable politeness in manners and conversation that common sense, observation, good company, and imitation will definitely provide you if you are willing to embrace it.
A genteel carriage and graceful motions, with the air of a man of fashion: a good dancing-master, with some care on your part, and some imitation of those who excel, will soon bring this about.
A classy carriage and smooth movements, with the vibe of a fashionable man: a skilled dance instructor, with a bit of effort from you and some copying of those who are great at it, will quickly help you achieve this.
To be extremely clean in your person, and perfectly well dressed, according to the fashion, be that what it will: Your negligence of your dress while you were a schoolboy was pardonable, but would not be so now.
To be very clean in your appearance and perfectly dressed in whatever the current style is: Your carelessness about your clothes when you were a schoolboy was excusable, but it wouldn't be 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.
Overall, just assume that without these skills, everything you know and everything you can do will help you very little. Goodbye.
LETTER CIII
LONDON, January 25, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: It is so long since I have heard from you, that I suppose Rome engrosses every moment of your time; and if it engrosses it in the manner I could wish, I willingly give up my share of it. I would rather ‘prodesse quam conspici’. Put out your time, but to good interest; and I do not desire to borrow much of it. Your studies, the respectable remains of antiquity, and your evening amusements cannot, and indeed ought not, to leave you much time to write. You will, probably, never see Rome again; and therefore you ought to see it well now; by seeing it well, I do not mean only the buildings, statues, and paintings, though they undoubtedly deserve your attention: but I mean seeing into the constitution and government of it. But these things certainly occur to your own common sense.
MY DEAR FRIEND: It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you that I assume Rome is taking up all your time. If that’s the case, I’m happy to let you enjoy it. I’d rather be useful than just noticed. Use your time wisely, but I don’t want to take up much of it. Your studies, the impressive remnants of the past, and your evening activities surely don’t leave you much time to write. You might never get to see Rome again, so you should really make the most of it now. When I say “make the most of it,” I don’t just mean the buildings, statues, and paintings, even though they certainly deserve your attention; I also mean understanding its structure and government. But I’m sure these thoughts have already crossed your mind.
How go, your pleasures at Rome? Are you in fashion there? that is, do you live with the people who are?—the only way of being so yourself, in time. Are you domestic enough in any considerable house to be called ‘le petit Stanhope’? Has any woman of fashion and good-breeding taken the trouble of abusing and laughing at you amicably to your face? Have you found a good ‘decrotteuse’. For those are the steps by which you must rise to politeness. I do not presume to ask if you have any attachment, because I believe you will not make me your confident; but this I will say, eventually, that if you have one, ‘il faut bien payer d’attentions et de petits soin’, if you would have your sacrifice propitiously received. Women are not so much taken by beauty as men are, but prefer those men who show them the most attention.
How are your social activities in Rome? Are you fitting in there? That is, are you hanging out with the popular crowd?—that’s the only way to become one of them eventually. Are you close enough with any significant family to be referred to as ‘le petit Stanhope’? Has any well-bred and fashionable woman taken the time to tease and laugh at you playfully to your face? Have you found a good ‘decrotteuse’? Because those are the steps you need to take to become polite. I won’t presume to ask if you have any romantic interests, since I don’t think you’ll confide in me; but I will say this: if you do have one, you really need to pay attention and show small gestures if you want your efforts to be favorably received. Women aren’t as swayed by looks as men are, but they tend to prefer men who give 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.
Would you approach the lovely lady?
Treat her with kindness and charm;
Greet her with soft looks and graceful style,
Using the gentlest words to disarm.
Words would be useless, the Muses falter,
Without the help of grace;
The God of Poetry couldn’t alter
The course of the fleeting maiden’s pace.
Win her over with your attentiveness,
And show that you truly care;
Then the nymph will reward your devotion,
And Venus will answer your prayer.
Probatum est.A man’s address and manner weigh much more with them than his beauty; and, without them, the Abbati and Monsignori will get the better of you. This address and manner should be exceedingly respectful, but at the same time easy and unembarrassed. Your chit-chat or ‘entregent’ with them neither can, nor ought to be very solid; but you should take care to turn and dress up your trifles prettily, and make them every now and then convey indirectly some little piece of flattery. A fan, a riband, or a head-dress, are great materials for gallant dissertations, to one who has got ‘le ton leger et aimable de la bonne compagnie’. At all events, a man had better talk too much to women, than too little; they take silence for dullness, unless where they think that the passion they have inspired occasions it; and in that case they adopt the notion, that
A man's demeanor and attitude matter a lot more to them than his looks; without these, the Abbati and Monsignori will have the upper hand. This demeanor and attitude should be very respectful but also effortless and relaxed. Your small talk or 'entregent' with them doesn't have to be deep or serious; instead, you should focus on presenting your casual topics in an appealing way and occasionally hint at some light flattery. A fan, a ribbon, or a hairstyle are great subjects for charming conversations, especially for someone who has 'the light and pleasant tone of good company.' In any case, it's better for a man to talk too much to women than too little; they often interpret silence as boredom unless they think it's due to the effect of their charm, in which case they assume 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.
Silence in love reveals more sorrow
Than words, no matter how clever;
The mute beggar, as we know,
Deserves pity even more.‘A propos’ of this subject: what progress do you make in that language, in which Charles the Fifth said that he would choose to speak to his mistress? Have you got all the tender diminutives, in ‘etta, ina’, and ‘ettina’, which, I presume, he alluded to? You already possess, and, I hope, take care not to forget, that language which he reserved for his horse. You are absolutely master, too, of that language in which he said he would converse with men; French. But, in every language, pray attend carefully to the choice of your words, and to the turn of your expression. Indeed, it is a point of very great consequence. To be heard with success, you must be heard with pleasure: words are the dress of thoughts; which should no more be presented in rags, tatters, and dirt, than your person should. By the way, do you mind your person and your dress sufficiently? Do you take great care of your teeth? Pray have them put in order by the best operator at Rome. Are you be-laced, bepowdered, and be-feathered, as other young fellows are, and should be? At your age, ‘il faut du brillant, et meme un peu de fracas, mais point de mediocre; il faut un air vif, aise et noble. Avec les hommes, un maintien respectueux et en meme tems respectable; avec les femmes, un caquet leger, enjoue, et badin, mais toujours fort poli’.
Regarding this topic: how are you progressing in that language which Charles the Fifth said he would choose to speak to his lady? Do you have all the sweet diminutives, like ‘etta, ina’, and ‘ettina’, that I assume he referenced? You already know, and I hope you remember, that language he reserved for his horse. You also have complete command of that language in which he said he would converse with men: French. But in every language, please pay careful attention to your word choice and the way you express yourself. It truly matters a lot. To be understood successfully, you must be pleasing to listen to: words are the clothes of thoughts; they should be presented no more in rags, tatters, and dirt than your appearance should be. By the way, do you take enough care of your looks and your clothing? Do you take good care of your teeth? Please make sure they are well taken care of by the best dentist in Rome. Are you well-dressed, stylish, and groomed like other young men are, and should be? At your age, “it requires some flair, and even a bit of showiness, but nothing mediocre; it requires a lively, comfortable, and noble air. With men, a respectful yet respectable demeanor; with women, a light, cheerful, and playful chatter, but always very polite.”
To give you an opportunity of exerting your talents, I send you, here inclosed, a letter of recommendation from Monsieur Villettes to Madame de Simonetti at Milan; a woman of the first fashion and consideration there; and I shall in my next send you another from the same person to Madame Clerici, at the same place. As these two ladies’ houses are the resort of all the people of fashion at Milan, those two recommendations will introduce you to them all. Let me know, in due time, if you have received these two letters, that I may have them renewed, in case of accidents.
To give you a chance to showcase your talents, I'm sending you a recommendation letter from Monsieur Villettes to Madame de Simonetti in Milan; she's a woman of high standing and respect there. In my next message, I'll send you another letter from the same person to Madame Clerici, also in Milan. Since the homes of these two ladies are where all the fashionable people in Milan gather, these recommendations will introduce you to everyone. Please let me know when you receive these letters, so I can get them replaced if anything happens.
Adieu, my dear friend! Study hard; divert yourself heartily; distinguish carefully between the pleasures of a man of fashion, and the vices of a scoundrel; pursue the former, and abhor the latter, like a man of sense.
Goodbye, my dear friend! Work hard; have fun; carefully tell the difference between the pleasures of a fashionable person and the wrongs of a scoundrel; pursue the former and avoid the latter, like a sensible person.
LETTER CIV
LONDON, February 5, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: Very few people are good economists of their fortune, and still fewer of their time; and yet of the two, the latter is the most precious. I heartily wish you to be a good economist of both: and you are now of an age to begin to think seriously of those two important articles. Young people are apt to think that they have so much time before them, that they may squander what they please of it, and yet have enough left; as very great fortunes have frequently seduced people to a ruinous profusion. Fatal mistakes, always repented of, but always too late! Old Mr. Lowndes, the famous Secretary of the Treasury in the reigns of King William, Queen Anne, and King George the First, used to say,—TAKE CARE OF THE PENCE, AND THE POUNDS WILL TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES. To this maxim, which he not only preached but practiced, his two grandsons at this time owe the very considerable fortunes that he left them.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Very few people are good at managing their wealth, and even fewer at managing their time; yet, of the two, time is more valuable. I sincerely hope you become skilled at both, and you're now at an age where you should start seriously considering these two important assets. Young people often feel like they have plenty of time ahead of them, allowing them to waste it as they please, thinking there will always be enough left; much like how large fortunes have often led people to waste extravagantly. These are disastrous mistakes, always regretted, but usually too late to change! Old Mr. Lowndes, the renowned Secretary of the Treasury during the reigns of King William, Queen Anne, and King George the First, used to say—TAKE CARE OF THE PENCE, AND THE POUNDS WILL TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES. His two grandsons currently benefit from this principle, for it’s what they owe their substantial fortunes to, which he both preached and practiced.
This holds equally true as to time; and I most earnestly recommend to you the care of those minutes and quarters of hours, in the course of the day, which people think too short to deserve their attention; and yet, if summed up at the end of the year, would amount to a very considerable portion of time. For example: you are to be at such a place at twelve, by appointment; you go out at eleven, to make two or three visits first; those persons are not at home, instead of sauntering away that intermediate time at a coffeehouse, and possibly alone, return home, write a letter, beforehand, for the ensuing post, or take up a good book, I do not mean Descartes, Malebranche, Locke, or Newton, by way of dipping; but some book of rational amusement and detached pieces, as Horace, Boileau, Waller, La Bruyere, etc. This will be so much time saved, and by no means ill employed. Many people lose a great deal of time by reading: for they read frivolous and idle books, such as the absurd romances of the two last centuries; where characters, that never existed, are insipidly displayed, and sentiments that were never felt, pompously described: the Oriental ravings and extravagances of the “Arabian Nights,” and Mogul tales; or, the new flimsy brochures that now swarm in France, of fairy tales, ‘Reflections sur le coeur et l’esprit, metaphysique de l’amour, analyse des beaux sentimens’, and such sort of idle frivolous stuff, that nourishes and improves the mind just as much as whipped cream would the body. Stick to the best established books in every language; the celebrated poets, historians, orators, or philosophers. By these means (to use a city metaphor) you will make fifty PER CENT. Of that time, of which others do not make above three or four, or probably nothing at all.
This is just as true when it comes to time; I strongly encourage you to pay attention to those minutes and short spans of time throughout the day that people often think are too brief to worry about. Yet, if you add them up by the end of the year, they would account for a significant amount of time. For instance: if you need to be somewhere at noon, and you leave at eleven to make a couple of visits first, but those people aren’t home, don’t waste that in-between time sitting in a coffee shop, possibly alone. Instead, go back home, write a letter for the next day’s mail, or pick up a good book. I’m not suggesting you dive into Descartes, Malebranche, Locke, or Newton, but rather something engaging and lighter, like works by Horace, Boileau, Waller, La Bruyère, and so on. That would save you valuable time and wouldn’t be a waste. Many people actually waste a lot of time reading because they choose silly and pointless books, like the absurd romances from the past two centuries, where characters that never existed are dull and uninspiring, and feelings that were never experienced are grandly described; or they delve into the bizarre and extravagant tales of the “Arabian Nights” and whimsical Mogul stories; or the thin pamphlets that are currently popping up in France filled with fairy tales, ‘Reflections on the Heart and Mind, Metaphysics of Love, Analysis of Beautiful Feelings,’ and other trivial nonsense that feeds the mind as well as whipped cream nourishes the body. Stick to the best-established books in any language: the renowned poets, historians, orators, or philosophers. By doing this (to use a city metaphor), you’ll make fifty percent of that time, while others may only get three or four percent, or possibly none at all.
Many people lose a great deal of their time by laziness; they loll and yawn in a great chair, tell themselves that they have not time to begin anything then, and that it will do as well another time. This is a most unfortunate disposition, and the greatest obstruction to both knowledge and business. At your age, you have no right nor claim to laziness; I have, if I please, being emeritus. You are but just listed in the world, and must be active, diligent, indefatigable. If ever you propose commanding with dignity, you must serve up to it with diligence. Never put off till tomorrow what you can do to-day.
Many people waste a lot of time because they're lazy; they lounge around in comfy chairs, tell themselves they don’t have time to start anything right now, and that it can wait until later. This is a very unfortunate attitude and the biggest barrier to both learning and work. At your age, you have no right to be lazy; I can afford it, being retired. You’re just starting out in the world and need to be active, hardworking, and tireless. If you ever want to lead with respect, you have to work hard to earn it. Don’t procrastinate; if you can do it today, do it now.
Dispatch is the soul of business; and nothing contributes more to dispatch than method. Lay down a method for everything, and stick to it inviolably, as far as unexpected incidents may allow. Fix one certain hour and day in the week for your accounts, and keep them together in their proper order; by which means they will require very little time, and you can never be much cheated. Whatever letters and papers you keep, docket and tie them up in their respective classes, so that you may instantly have recourse to any one. Lay down a method also for your reading, for which you allot a certain share of your mornings; let it be in a consistent and consecutive course, and not in that desultory and unmethodical manner, in which many people read scraps of different authors, upon different subjects. Keep a useful and short commonplace book of what you read, to help your memory only, and not for pedantic quotations. Never read history without having maps and a chronological book, or tables, lying by you, and constantly recurred to; without which history is only a confused heap of facts. One method more I recommend to you, by which I have found great benefit, even in the most dissipated part of my life; that is, to rise early, and at the same hour every morning, how late soever you may have sat up the night before. This secures you an hour or two, at least, of reading or reflection before the common interruptions of the morning begin; and it will save your constitution, by forcing you to go to bed early, at least one night in three.
Being organized is essential for business, and nothing helps with organization more than having a method. Establish a routine for everything and stick to it as much as possible, allowing for unforeseen events. Set a specific hour and day each week for your accounts, keeping them organized; this way, they won't take much time, and you'll minimize the risk of being cheated. Organize your letters and documents by categorizing and bundling them, so you can quickly access anything you need. Also, create a method for your reading by dedicating a portion of your mornings; ensure it's logical and sequential, rather than the scattered approach many take, reading random excerpts from various authors on different topics. Maintain a concise and practical notebook of what you read to aid your memory, not for showy quotes. Always read history with maps and a chronological reference nearby, as without them, history can just become a jumble of facts. One more method I highly recommend, which has greatly benefited me, even during the more chaotic times of my life, is to wake up early and at the same time every morning, no matter how late you stayed up the night before. This guarantees you at least an hour or two for reading or thinking before the usual morning disruptions start, and it will help your health by encouraging you to go to bed early at least one night in three.
You will say, it may be, as many young people would, that all this order and method is very troublesome, only fit for dull people, and a disagreeable restraint upon the noble spirit and fire of youth. I deny it; and assert, on the contrary, that it will procure you both more time and more taste for your pleasures; and, so far from being troublesome to you, that after you have pursued it a month, it would be troublesome to you to lay it aside. Business whets the appetite, and gives a taste to pleasure, as exercise does to food; and business can never be done without method; it raises the spirits for pleasures; and a SPECTACLE, a ball, an assembly, will much more sensibly affect a man who has employed, than a man who has lost, the preceding part of the day; nay, I will venture to say, that a fine lady will seem to have more charms to a man of study or business, than to a saunterer. The same listlessness runs through his whole conduct, and he is as insipid in his pleasures, as inefficient in everything else.
You might think, like many young people do, that all this order and organization is a hassle, only suitable for boring people, and a frustrating limit on the spirited nature of youth. I disagree; in fact, I believe it will give you more time and a greater appreciation for your enjoyment. Rather than being a burden, after you've followed this for a month, it would actually feel burdensome to stop. Work sharpens your appetite and enhances your enjoyment, just like exercise does for food; and you can't get anything done without some structure. It lifts your mood for enjoyment; events like a show, a dance, or a gathering affect someone who has been productive much more than someone who has wasted the day. In fact, I would argue that an attractive woman seems more appealing to someone engaged in study or work than to someone who just idles away their time. That same lack of focus permeates their entire behavior, and they are as unexciting in their pleasures as they are ineffective in everything else.
I hope you earn your pleasures, and consequently taste them; for, by the way, I know a great many men, who call themselves men of pleasure, but who, in truth, have none. They adopt other people’s indiscriminately, but without any taste of their own. I have known them often inflict excesses upon themselves because they thought them genteel; though they sat as awkwardly upon them as other people’s clothes would have done. Have no pleasures but your own, and then you will shine in them. What are yours? Give me a short history of them. ‘Tenez-vous votre coin a table, et dans les bonnes compagnies? y brillez-vous du cote de la politesse, de d’enjouement, du badinage? Etes-vous galant? Filex-vous le parfait amour? Est-il question de flechir par vos soins et par vos attentions les rigueurs de quelque fiere Princesse’? You may safely trust me; for though I am a severe censor of vice and folly, I am a friend and advocate for pleasures, and will contribute all in my power to yours.
I hope you pursue your own pleasures and truly experience them; because, honestly, I know a lot of guys who call themselves pleasure-seekers but don’t genuinely enjoy anything. They just copy what others do without having any style of their own. I’ve seen them go overboard with things just because they thought it looked classy, even though it fits as awkwardly as borrowed clothes. Make sure your pleasures are uniquely yours, and then you’ll truly shine in them. What are your pleasures? Tell me a bit about them. Do you hold your own at the table and in good company? Do you stand out with your politeness, cheerfulness, and playful banter? Are you charming? Are you in love? Do you strive to soften the heart of some proud princess with your care and attention? You can trust me completely; even though I’m tough on vice and foolishness, I’m a supporter of genuine pleasures and will do everything I can to help you enjoy yours.
There is a certain dignity to be kept up in pleasures, as well as in business. In love, a man may lose his heart with dignity; but if he loses his nose, he loses his character into the bargain. At table, a man may with decency have a distinguishing palate; but indiscriminate voraciousness degrades him to a glutton. A man may play with decency; but if he games, he is disgraced. Vivacity and wit make a man shine in company; but trite jokes and loud laughter reduce him to a buffoon. [see Mark Twain’s identical advice in his ‘Speeches’ D.W.] Every virtue, they say, has its kindred vice; every pleasure, I am sure, has its neighboring disgrace. Mark carefully, therefore, the line that separates them, and rather stop a yard short, than step an inch beyond it.
There’s a certain dignity to maintain in pleasures, just like in business. In love, a man can lose his heart with dignity; but if he loses his nose, he also loses his character. At the dinner table, a man can have a refined palate without any issue; but if he eats like a pig, he’s just a glutton. A man can play games politely; but if he gambles, he’s seen as disgraceful. Charm and wit help a man stand out in social settings; but tired jokes and loud laughter turn him into a fool. [see Mark Twain’s identical advice in his ‘Speeches’ D.W.] They say every virtue has its corresponding vice; I’m sure every pleasure has its nearby disgrace. So, pay attention to the line that separates them, and it’s better to stop a little short than to go just a bit too far.
I wish to God that you had as much pleasure in following my advice, as I have in giving it you! and you may the more easily have it, as I give you none that is inconsistent with your pleasure. In all that I say to you, it is your interest alone that I consider: trust to my experience; you know you may to my affection. Adieu.
I really wish you enjoyed taking my advice as much as I enjoy giving it to you! You can easily feel that way since I only suggest things that align with your happiness. Everything I say is based on what's best for you: trust my experience; you know you can trust my affection. Goodbye.
I have received no letter yet from you or Mr. Harte.
I haven't received any letters yet from you or Mr. Harte.
LETTER CV
LONDON, February 8, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: You have, by this time, I hope and believe, made such a progress in the Italian language, that you can read it with ease; I mean, the easy books in it; and indeed, in that, as well as in every other language, the easiest books are generally the best; for, whatever author is obscure and difficult in his own language, certainly does not think clearly. This is, in my opinion, the case of a celebrated Italian author; to whom the Italians, from the admiration they have of him, have given the epithet of il divino; I mean Dante. Though I formerly knew Italian extremely well, I could never understand him; for which reason I had done with him, fully convinced that he was not worth the pains necessary to understand him.
MY DEAR FRIEND: By now, I hope and believe you have made such progress in the Italian language that you can read it with ease; I’m talking about the easier books. In fact, in every language, the easiest books are usually the best because any author who is obscure and difficult in their own language definitely doesn’t think clearly. I think this is the case with a famous Italian author, whom the Italians, out of admiration, have called il divino; I mean Dante. Although I used to know Italian extremely well, I could never understand him, which is why I decided to give up on him, fully convinced that he wasn’t worth the effort needed to understand him.
The good Italian authors are, in my mind, but few; I mean, authors of invention; for there are, undoubtedly, very good historians and excellent translators. The two poets worth your reading, and, I was going to say, the only two, are Tasso and Ariosto. Tasso’s ‘Gierusalemme Liberata’ is altogether unquestionably a fine poem, though—it has some low, and many false thoughts in it: and Boileau very justly makes it the mark of a bad taste, to compare ‘le Clinquant Tasse a l’ Or de Virgile’. The image, with which he adorns the introduction of his epic poem, is low and disgusting; it is that of a froward, sick, puking child, who is deceived into a dose of necessary physic by ‘du bon-bon’. These verses are these:
The great Italian writers, in my opinion, are few; I'm referring to writers of creativity; because, no doubt, there are some excellent historians and translators. The two poets you should read, and I would say the only two, are Tasso and Ariosto. Tasso’s ‘Gierusalemme Liberata’ is undeniably a great poem, although it contains some trivial ideas and many flawed thoughts: and Boileau rightly points out that it's poor taste to compare 'le Clinquant Tasse' to the 'Or de Virgile.' The image he uses to introduce his epic poem is low and off-putting; it depicts a spoiled, sick, gagging child who is tricked into taking necessary medicine with 'du bon-bon.' These verses are:
“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.”
“So we offer the cheerful child, sprinkled
With sweet nectar, the edges of the vase:
Bittersweet juices, he drinks, deceived,
And from his deception, he gains life.”However, the poem, with all its faults about it, may justly be called a fine one.
However, the poem, despite its flaws, can rightly be considered a great one.
If fancy, imagination, invention, description, etc., constitute a poet, Ariosto is, unquestionably, a great one. His “Orlando,” it is true, is a medley of lies and truths—sacred and profane—wars, loves, enchantments, giants, madheroes, and adventurous damsels, but then, he gives it you very fairly for what it is, and does not pretend to put it upon you for the true ‘epopee’, or epic poem. He says:
If creativity, imagination, invention, and description define a poet, then Ariosto is definitely a great one. His “Orlando” is, admittedly, a mix of lies and truths—sacred and secular—wars, loves, enchantments, giants, crazy heroes, and adventurous women, but he presents it honestly for what it is. He doesn’t try to pass it off as the true epic poem. He says:
“Le Donne, i Cavalier, l’arme, gli amori
Le cortesie, l’audaci imprese, io canto.”
“The ladies, the knights, the weapons, the loves
The courtesies, the daring deeds, I sing.”The connections of his stories are admirable, his reflections just, his sneers and ironies incomparable, and his painting excellent. When Angelica, after having wandered over half the world alone with Orlando, pretends, notwithstanding,
The links in his stories are impressive, his insights fair, his sarcasm and irony unmatched, and his descriptions are superb. When Angelica, after traveling halfway around the world alone with Orlando, pretends, despite that,
“—-ch’el fior virginal cosi avea salvo,
Come selo porto dal matern’ alvo.”
“—she had a pure flower, just as it was brought from her mother’s womb.”
The author adds, very gravely,—
The author adds very seriously,—
“Forse era ver, ma non pero credibile
A chi del senso suo fosse Signore.”
“Maybe it was true, but it wasn’t credible
To someone who was in control of their senses.”Astolpho’s being carried to the moon by St. John, in order to look for Orlando’s lost wits, at the end of the 34th book, and the many lost things that he finds there, is a most happy extravagancy, and contains, at the same time, a great deal of sense. I would advise you to read this poem with attention. It is, also, the source of half the tales, novels, and plays, that have been written since.
Astolpho is taken to the moon by St. John to search for Orlando's lost sanity at the end of the 34th book, and the many things he finds there are a delightful absurdity, yet also make a lot of sense. I recommend reading this poem carefully. It’s also the inspiration behind many stories, novels, and plays that have been written since then.
The ‘Pastor Fido’ of Guarini is so celebrated, that you should read it; but in reading it, you will judge of the great propriety of the characters. A parcel of shepherds and shepherdesses, with the TRUE PASTORAL’ SIMPLICITY, talk metaphysics, epigrams, ‘concetti’, and quibbles, by the hour to each other.
The 'Pastor Fido' by Guarini is so well-known that you really should read it; but as you read, you'll see how fitting the characters are. A group of shepherds and shepherdesses, with genuine pastoral simplicity, discuss metaphysics, clever sayings, witty remarks, and puns for hours.
The Aminto del Tasso, is much more what it is intended to be, a pastoral: the shepherds, indeed, have their ‘concetti’ and their antitheses; but are not quite so sublime and abstracted as those in Pastor Fido. I think that you will like it much the best of the two.
The Aminto del Tasso is definitely more of what it aims to be, a pastoral: the shepherds do have their ideas and contrasts, but they aren’t as lofty and removed as those in Pastor Fido. I believe you’ll find it much better than the other one.
Petrarca is, in my mind, a sing-song, love-sick poet; much admired, however, by the Italians: but an Italian who should think no better of him than I do, would certainly say that he deserved his ‘Laura’ better than his ‘Lauro’; and that wretched quibble would be reckoned an excellent piece of Italian wit.
Petrarch is, in my opinion, a melodramatic, lovesick poet; he is highly regarded by Italians, though. However, an Italian who thinks as little of him as I do would definitely argue that he deserves his ‘Laura’ more than his ‘Lauro’; and that unfortunate wordplay would be considered a great example of Italian humor.
The Italian prose-writers (of invention I mean) which I would recommend to your acquaintance, are Machiavello and Boccacio; the former, for the established reputation which he has acquired, of a consummate politician (whatever my own private sentiments may be of either his politics or his morality): the latter, for his great invention, and for his natural and agreeable manner of telling his stories.
The Italian writers I would suggest you get to know are Machiavelli and Boccaccio; the former, due to his well-known status as a masterful politician (regardless of my personal views on his politics or ethics); the latter, for his creative storytelling and his natural, engaging way of sharing his tales.
Guicciardini, Bentivoglio, Davila, etc., are excellent historians, and deserved being read with attention. The nature of history checks, a little, the flights of Italian imaginations; which, in works of invention, are very high indeed. Translations curb them still more: and their translations of the classics are incomparable; particularly the first ten, translated in the time of Leo the Tenth, and inscribed to him, under the title of Collana. That original Collana has been lengthened since; and if I mistake not, consist now of one hundred and ten volumes.
Guicciardini, Bentivoglio, Davila, and others are great historians and deserve to be read carefully. The nature of history somewhat limits the boundless creativity of Italian minds, which is exceptionally high in works of fiction. Translations further restrict this creativity, but their translations of the classics are unmatched; especially the first ten, translated during the time of Leo the Tenth and dedicated to him under the title of Collana. That original Collana has since expanded, and if I'm not mistaken, it now consists of one hundred and ten volumes.
From what I have said, you will easily guess that I meant to put you upon your guard; and not let your fancy be dazzled and your taste corrupted by the concetti, the quaintnesses, and false thoughts, which are too much the characteristics of the Italian and Spanish authors. I think you are in no great danger, as your taste has been formed upon the best ancient models, the Greek and Latin authors of the best ages, who indulge themselves in none of the puerilities I have hinted at. I think I may say, with truth; that true wit, sound taste, and good sense, are now, as it were, engrossed by France and England. Your old acquaintances, the Germans, I fear, are a little below them; and your new acquaintances, the Italians, are a great deal too much above them. The former, I doubt, crawl a little; the latter, I am sure, very often fly out of sight.
From what I've said, you'll easily understand that I wanted to warn you; don’t let your imagination get carried away or your taste be spoiled by the clever twists, oddities, and misguided ideas that are too common among Italian and Spanish writers. I believe you're not in much danger since your taste has been shaped by the best classical models, the Greek and Latin authors from their finest periods, who don’t indulge in the trivialities I mentioned. I can honestly say that true wit, sound taste, and good sense are now primarily found in France and England. Your old friends, the Germans, I fear, lag a bit behind; and your new friends, the Italians, are often way ahead. The former, I suspect, move slowly; the latter, I’m sure, frequently vanish out of sight.
I recommended to you a good many years ago, and I believe you then read, La maniere de bien penser dans les ouvrages d’esprit par le Pere Bouhours; and I think it is very well worth your reading again, now that you can judge of it better. I do not know any book that contributes more to form a true taste; and you find there, into the bargain, the most celebrated passages, both of the ancients and the moderns, which refresh your memory with what you have formerly read in them separately. It is followed by a book much of the same size, by the same author, entitled, ‘Suite des Pensees ingenieuses’.
I recommended a good book to you many years ago, and I believe you read it then: La manière de bien penser dans les ouvrages d’esprit by Père Bouhours. I think it's definitely worth your time to read it again now that you can appreciate it more. I don't know of any book that better helps develop a true sense of taste, and you'll also find some of the most famous passages from both ancient and modern authors, which will refresh your memory of what you've read before. There's also a similarly sized book by the same author called 'Suite des Pensées ingénieuses' that follows it.
To do justice to the best English and French authors, they have not given into that false taste; they allow no thoughts to be good, that are not just and founded upon truth. The age of Lewis XIV. was very like the Augustan; Boileau, Moliere, La Fontaine, Racine, etc., established the true, and exposed the false taste. The reign of King Charles II. (meritorious in no other respect) banished false taste out of England, and proscribed puns, quibbles, acrostics, etc. Since that, false wit has renewed its attacks, and endeavored to recover its lost empire, both in England and France; but without success; though, I must say, with more success in France than in England. Addison, Pope, and Swift, have vigorously defended the rights of good sense, which is more than can be said of their contemporary French authors, who have of late had a great tendency to ‘le faux brillant’, ‘le raffinement, et l’entortillement’. And Lord Roscommon would be more in the right now, than he was then, in saying that,
To honor the best English and French writers, they haven't fallen into that false sense of taste; they only accept ideas that are fair and based on truth. The era of Louis XIV was very similar to the Augustan age; Boileau, Molière, La Fontaine, Racine, and others established what was true and exposed the false taste. The reign of King Charles II (not notable for much else) eliminated false taste from England and banned puns, wordplay, acrostics, and so forth. Since then, false wit has tried to make a comeback and regain its lost influence in both England and France; however, it hasn't succeeded, though I must note that it has had more success in France than in England. Addison, Pope, and Swift have strongly defended good sense, which is more than can be said for their contemporary French writers, who have recently shown a strong inclination toward ‘le faux brillant,’ ‘le raffinement, et l’entortillement’. And Lord Roscommon would be more accurate now than he was back then in saying that,
“The English bullion of one sterling line,
Drawn to French wire, would through whole pages shine.”
“The English bullion of one sterling line, Drawn to French wire, would shine through whole pages.”
Lose no time, my dear child, I conjure you, in forming your taste, your manners, your mind, your everything; you have but two years’ time to do it in; for whatever you are, to a certain degree, at twenty, you will be, more or less, all the rest of your life. May it be a long and happy one. Adieu.
Lose no time, my dear child. I urge you to shape your taste, your manners, your mind—everything about you. You only have two years to do this, because whatever you become by the age of twenty will influence you for the rest of your life, more or less. I hope it’s a long and happy one. Goodbye.
LETTER CVI
LONDON, February 22, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: If the Italian of your letter to Lady Chesterfield was all your own, I am very well satisfied with the progress which you have made in that language in so short a time; according to that gradation, you will, in a very little time more, be master of it. Except at the French Ambassador’s, I believe you hear only Italian spoke; for the Italians speak very little French, and that little generally very ill. The French are even with them, and generally speak Italian as ill; for I never knew a Frenchman in my life who could pronounce the Italian ce, ci, or ge, gi. Your desire of pleasing the Roman ladies will of course give you not only the desire, but the means of speaking to them elegantly in their own language. The Princess Borghese, I am told, speaks French both ill and unwillingly; and therefore you should make a merit to her of your application to her language. She is, by a kind of prescription (longer than she would probably wish), at the head of the ‘beau monde’ at Rome; and can, consequently, establish or destroy a young fellow’s fashionable character. If she declares him ‘amabile e leggiadro’, others will think him so, or at least those who do not will not dare to say so. There are in every great town some such women, whose rank, beauty, and fortune have conspired to place them at the head of the fashion. They have generally been gallant, but within certain decent bounds. Their gallantries have taught, both them and their admirers, good-breeding; without which they could keep up no dignity, but would be vilified by those very gallantries which put them in vogue. It is with these women, as with ministers and favorites at court; they decide upon fashion and characters, as these do of fortunes and preferments. Pay particular court, therefore, wherever you are, to these female sovereigns of the ‘beau monde’; their recommendation is a passport through all the realms of politeness. But then, remember that they require minute officious attentions. You should, if possible, guess at and anticipate all their little fancies and inclinations; make yourself familiarly and domestically useful to them, by offering yourself for all their little commissions, and assisting in doing the honors of their houses, and entering with seeming unction into all their little grievances, bustles, and views; for they are always busy. If you are once ‘ben ficcato’ at the Palazzo Borghese, you twill soon be in fashion at Rome; and being in fashion will soon fashion you; for that is what you must now think of very seriously.
MY DEAR FRIEND: If the Italian in your letter to Lady Chesterfield was entirely your own work, I’m really impressed with how much progress you’ve made in that language in such a short time; at this rate, you’ll master it in no time. Besides at the French Ambassador’s, I believe you’re only hearing Italian spoken; Italians speak very little French, and that little is usually quite poor. The French are on the same level and generally speak Italian just as poorly; I’ve never met a Frenchman who could pronounce the Italian ce, ci, or ge, gi correctly. Your wish to impress the Roman ladies will naturally not only drive you to want to speak elegantly in their language but also give you the tools to do so. I’ve heard that Princess Borghese speaks French poorly and reluctantly, so you should take advantage of your efforts to learn her language and present it as an accomplishment to her. By a sort of long-standing custom, she is at the top of the social scene in Rome and can make or break a young man’s reputation. If she calls him ‘charming and graceful,’ others will believe it, or at least those who don’t will hesitate to say otherwise. In every major city, there are women like her, whose status, beauty, and wealth place them at the forefront of fashion. They have generally enjoyed flirtations, but within decent limits. Their romances have taught both them and their admirers about good manners; without that, they couldn’t maintain their dignity and would be ridiculed by the very flirtations that made them popular. It’s similar to how ministers and favorites at court operate; they define trends and reputations just as those in power define fortunes and promotions. Therefore, always pay special attention to these female leaders of the social scene wherever you may be; their endorsement is a ticket to all areas of politeness. But remember, they require careful and attentive consideration. You should, if possible, guess and anticipate all their little likes and wants; make yourself helpful by offering to assist with their small tasks and helping to host at their gatherings, and genuinely engage with their little concerns, distractions, and ambitions, as they are always busy. If you manage to be ‘well placed’ at the Palazzo Borghese, you’ll soon be in fashion in Rome; and being in fashion will quickly shape you, as that is what you need to focus on very seriously now.
I am sorry that there is no good dancing-master at Rome, to form your exterior air and carriage; which, I doubt, are not yet the genteelest in the world. But you may, and I hope you will, in the meantime, observe the air and carriage of those who are reckoned to have the best, and form your own upon them. Ease, gracefulness, and dignity, compose the air and address of a man of fashion; which is as unlike the affected attitudes and motions of a ‘petit maitre’, as it is to the awkward, negligent, clumsy, and slouching manner of a booby.
I'm sorry that there's no good dance instructor in Rome to help you with your style and poise, which I worry aren't the most polished right now. However, you can, and I hope you will, pay attention to how those who are considered to have the best style carry themselves and model your own after them. Ease, grace, and dignity are what define the demeanor of a fashionable person, which is completely different from the exaggerated poses and movements of a foppish dandy, as well as the awkward, careless, clumsy, and slouching behavior of a fool.
I am extremely pleased with the account Mr. Harte has given me of the allotment of your time at Rome. Those five hours every morning, which you employ in serious studies with Mr. Harte, are laid out with great interest, and will make you rich all the rest of your life. I do not look upon the subsequent morning hours, which you pass with your Ciceroni, to be ill-disposed of; there is a kind of connection between them; and your evening diversions in good company are, in their way, as useful and necessary. This is the way for you to have both weight and lustre in the world; and this is the object which I always had in view in your education.
I am really happy with the update Mr. Harte shared about how you’re spending your time in Rome. Those five hours every morning that you dedicate to serious studies with Mr. Harte are very valuable and will benefit you for the rest of your life. I don’t see the following morning hours you spend with your Ciceroni as wasted; there’s a connection between the two. And your evening activities in good company are, in their own way, just as important and necessary. This is how you can have both influence and shine in the world, which is what I’ve always aimed for in your education.
Adieu, my friend! go on and prosper.
Goodbye, my friend! Keep going and thrive.
Mr. Grevenkop has just received Mr. Harte’s letter of the 19th N. S.
Mr. Grevenkop has just received Mr. Harte’s letter dated the 19th of this month.
LETTER CVII
LONDON, March 8, O. S. 1750
Young as you are, I hope you are in haste to live; by living, I mean living with lustre and honor to yourself, with utility to society; doing what may deserve to be written, or writing what may deserve to be read; I should wish both. Those who consider life in that light, will not idly lavish one moment. The present moments are the only ones we are sure of, and as such the most valuable; but yours are doubly so at your age; for the credit, the dignity, the comfort, and the pleasure of all your future moments, depend upon the use you make of your present ones.
As young as you are, I hope you're eager to live. By living, I mean living with brilliance and honor for yourself, while being useful to society; doing things worthy of being written about or writing things worth reading; I hope for both. Those who view life this way won't waste a single moment. The present moments are the only ones we can truly rely on, making them the most valuable; but yours are even more so at your age, because the worth, dignity, comfort, and joy of all your future moments depend on how you use your present ones.
I am extremely satisfied with your present manner of employing your time; but will you always employ it as well? I am far from meaning always in the same way; but I mean as well in proportion, in the variation of age and circumstances. You now, study five hours every morning; I neither suppose that you will, nor desire that you should do so for the rest of your life. Both business and pleasure will justly and equally break in upon those hours. But then, will you always employ the leisure they leave you in useful studies? If you have but an hour, will you improve that hour, instead of idling it away? While you have such a friend and monitor with you as Mr. Harte, I am sure you will. But suppose that business and situations should, in six or seen months, call Mr. Harte away from you; tell me truly, what may I expect and depend upon from you, when left to yourself? May I be sure that you will employ some part of every day, in adding something to that stock of knowledge which he will have left you? May I hope that you will allot one hour in the week to the care of your own affairs, to keep them in that order and method which every prudent man does? But, above all, may I be convinced that your pleasures, whatever they may be, will be confined within the circle of good company, and people of fashion? Those pleasures I recommend to you; I will promote them I will pay for them; but I will neither pay for, nor suffer, the unbecoming, disgraceful, and degrading pleasures (they should not be called pleasures), of low and profligate company. I confess the pleasures of high life are not always strictly philosophical; and I believe a Stoic would blame, my indulgence; but I am yet no Stoic, though turned of five-and-fifty; and I am apt to think that you are rather less so, at eighteen. The pleasures of the table, among people of the first fashion, may indeed sometimes, by accident, run into excesses: but they will never sink into a continued course of gluttony and drunkenness. The gallantry of high life, though not strictly justifiable, carries, at least, no external marks of infamy about it. Neither the heart nor the constitution is corrupted by it; neither nose nor character lost by it; manners, possibly, improved. Play, in good company, is only play, and not gaming; not deep, and consequently not dangerous nor dishonorable. It is only the interacts of other amusements.
I’m really happy with how you’re currently using your time; but will you always use it that well? I don’t mean you should always do the same things, but I mean as well in relation to your age and circumstances. Right now, you study five hours every morning. I don’t think you will, nor do I want you to, do that for the rest of your life. Both work and fun will naturally interrupt that schedule. But will you always use the free time that’s left for productive studies? If you have just an hour, will you make the most of it instead of wasting it? While you have a friend and guide like Mr. Harte around, I’m sure you will. But imagine that in six or seven months, work and circumstances cause Mr. Harte to leave you; honestly, what can I expect from you when you’re on your own? Can I trust that you will spend some time each day adding to the knowledge he will have given you? Can I hope that you’ll dedicate one hour a week to managing your own affairs, keeping them organized and in order like any sensible person would? Most importantly, can I be sure that your leisure activities, whatever they are, will stay within the bounds of good company and fashionable people? I recommend those kinds of pleasures; I will support and even pay for them; but I won’t fund or tolerate the inappropriate, shameful, and degrading pleasures (they shouldn’t even be called pleasures) that come from low and immoral company. I admit that the pleasures of high society aren’t always strictly philosophical, and I believe a Stoic would criticize my indulgence; but I’m not a Stoic yet, even at over fifty-five, and I think you’re probably even less so at eighteen. The dining experiences among high society can sometimes, by chance, go overboard: but they will never lead to a constant state of gluttony and drunkenness. The excitement of high society, while not completely justifiable, at least doesn’t carry any obvious signs of disgrace. It doesn’t corrupt the heart or the constitution, nor does it ruin your reputation; it might even improve your manners. Playing games in good company is just that—play, not gambling; it’s not serious, so it’s not dangerous or dishonorable. It’s just a variation of other kinds of entertainment.
This, I am sure, is not talking to you like an old man, though it is talking to you like an old friend; these are not hard conditions to ask of you. I am certain you have sense enough to know how reasonable they are on my part, how advantageous they are on yours: but have you resolution enough to perform them? Can you withstand the examples, and the invitations, of the profligate, and their infamous missionaries? For I have known many a young fellow seduced by a ‘mauvaise honte’, that made him ashamed to refuse. These are resolutions which you must form, and steadily execute for yourself, whenever you lose the friendly care and assistance of your Mentor. In the meantime, make a greedy use of him; exhaust him, if you can, of all his knowledge; and get the prophet’s mantle from him, before he is taken away himself.
I'm sure this doesn't sound like I'm lecturing you, but more like an old friend talking to you; these aren't tough requests to make. I believe you have enough sense to see how fair they are for me and how beneficial they are for you: but do you have the willpower to follow through? Can you resist the influences and temptations of those reckless people and their shameless promoters? I've seen many young men led astray by a sense of false pride that made them too embarrassed to say no. These are decisions you need to make and stick to for yourself once you no longer have the guidance and support of your Mentor. In the meantime, take full advantage of him; learn as much as you can from his experience, and get all the wisdom you can before he’s gone.
You seem to like Rome. How do you go on there? Are you got into the inside of that extraordinary government? Has your Abbate Foggini discovered many of those mysteries to you? Have you made an acquaintance with some eminent Jesuits? I know no people in the world more instructive. You would do very well to take one or two such sort of people home with you to dinner every day. It would be only a little ‘minestra’ and ‘macaroni’ the more; and a three or four hours’ conversation ‘de suite’ produces a thousand useful informations, which short meetings and snatches at third places do not admit of; and many of those gentlemen are by no means unwilling to dine ‘gratis’. Whenever you meet with a man eminent in any way, feed him, and feed upon him at the same time; it will not only improve you, but give you a reputation of knowledge, and of loving it in others.
You seem to really enjoy Rome. How do you manage there? Have you gotten inside that incredible government? Has your Abbate Foggini shared many of those secrets with you? Have you met any notable Jesuits? I don’t think there are people in the world more knowledgeable. It would be a great idea to invite one or two of them to dinner with you every day. It would just be a little more ‘minestra’ and ‘macaroni’; and three or four hours of uninterrupted conversation can provide a wealth of valuable information that quick meetings at other places don’t allow for. Many of those gentlemen are quite willing to dine ‘gratis’. Whenever you meet someone distinguished in any way, feed him, and learn from him at the same time; it won’t just benefit you, but also enhance your reputation for knowledge and for appreciating it in others.
I have been lately informed of an Italian book, which I believe may be of use to you, and which, I dare say, you may get at Rome, written by one Alberti, about fourscore or a hundred years ago, a thick quarto. It is a classical description of Italy; from whence, I am assured, that Mr. Addison, to save himself trouble, has taken most of his remarks and classical references. I am told that it is an excellent book for a traveler in Italy.
I recently heard about an Italian book that I think might be useful to you, and you could probably find it in Rome. It was written by Alberti around 80 to 100 years ago and is a thick quarto. It's a classic description of Italy, and I’ve been told that Mr. Addison has taken most of his comments and classical references from it to save himself some effort. I've heard it’s a fantastic book for anyone traveling in Italy.
What Italian books have you read, or are you reading? Ariosto. I hope, is one of them. Pray apply yourself diligently to Italian; it is so easy a language, that speaking it constantly, and reading it often, must, in six months more, make you perfect master of it: in which case you will never forget it; for we only forget those things of which we know but little.
What Italian books have you read or are you reading? Ariosto, I hope, is one of them. Please make sure to study Italian diligently; it's such an easy language that by speaking it regularly and reading it often, you’ll become a master of it in just six more months. At that point, you’ll never forget it, because we only forget things we don’t know well.
But, above all things, to all that you learn, to all that you say, and to all that you do, remember to join the Graces. All is imperfect without them; with them everything is at least tolerable. Nothing could hurt me more than to find you unattended by them. How cruelly should I be shocked, if, at our first meeting, you should present yourself to me without them! Invoke them, and sacrifice to them every moment; they are always kind, where they are assiduously courted. For God’s sake, aim at perfection in everything: ‘Nil actum reputans si quid superesset agendum. Adieu. Yours most tenderly.
But above all else, in everything you learn, say, and do, remember to embrace the Graces. Everything is flawed without them; with them, at least everything is bearable. Nothing would hurt me more than to see you without their presence. I would be so shocked if, in our first meeting, you came to me lacking them! Call on them, and show them devotion every moment; they are always generous to those who seek them out. For goodness' sake, strive for perfection in everything: “Nothing is done if there’s still something left to do.” Goodbye. Yours most affectionately.
LETTER CVIII
LONDON, March 19, O. S. 1750.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I acknowledge your last letter of the 24th February, N. S. In return for your earthquake, I can tell you that we have had here more than our share of earthquakes; for we had two very strong ones in eight-and-twenty days. They really do too much honor to our cold climate; in your warm one, they are compensated by favors from the sun, which we do not enjoy.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your last letter dated February 24th, N. S. In response to your mention of the earthquake, I must tell you that we've had more than our fair share of earthquakes here; we experienced two very strong ones in just twenty-eight days. They really do emphasize the challenges of our cold climate; in your warmer climate, you get some benefits from the sun, which we don't have.
I did not think that the present Pope was a sort of man to build seven modern little chapels at the expense of so respectable a piece of antiquity as the Coliseum. However, let his Holiness’s taste of ‘virtu’ be ever so bad, pray get somebody to present you to him before you leave Rome; and without hesitation kiss his slipper, or whatever else the etiquette of that Court requires. I would have you see all those ceremonies; and I presume that you are, by this time, ready enough at Italian to understand and answer ‘il Santo Padre’ in that language. I hope, too, that you have acquired address and usage enough of the world to be presented to anybody, without embarrassment or disapprobation. If that is not yet quite perfect, as I cannot suppose it is entirely, custom will improve it daily, and habit at last complete it. I have for some time told you, that the great difficulties are pretty well conquered. You have acquired knowledge, which is the ‘principium et fons’; but you have now a variety of lesser things to attend to, which collectively make one great and important object. You easily guess that I mean the graces, the air, address, politeness, and, in short, the whole ‘tournure’ and ‘agremens’ of a man of fashion; so many little things conspire to form that ‘tournure’, that though separately they seem too insignificant to mention, yet aggregately they are too material for me (who think for you down to the very lowest things) to omit. For instance, do you use yourself to carve, eat and drink genteelly, and with ease? Do you take care to walk, sit, stand, and present yourself gracefully? Are you sufficiently upon your guard against awkward attitudes, and illiberal, ill-bred, and disgusting habits, such as scratching yourself, putting your fingers in your mouth, nose, and ears? Tricks always acquired at schools, often too much neglected afterward; but, however, extremely ill-bred and nauseous. For I do not conceive that any man has a right to exhibit, in company, any one excrement more than another. Do you dress well, and think a little of the brillant in your person? That, too, is necessary, because it is ‘prevenant’. Do you aim at easy, engaging, but, at the same time, civil or respectful manners, according to the company you are in? These, and a thousand other things, which you will observe in people of fashion better than I can describe them, are absolutely necessary for every man; but still more for you, than for almost any man living. The showish, the shining, the engaging parts of the character of a fine gentleman, should (considering your destination) be the principal objects, of your present attention.
I never expected that the current Pope would be the type to build seven modern little chapels at the expense of such a respected historic site as the Coliseum. Still, regardless of his taste in "virtu," make sure to have someone introduce you to him before you leave Rome; and without hesitation, kiss his slipper or whatever else the Court etiquette requires. I want you to witness all those ceremonies; and I assume you’re now good enough at Italian to understand and respond to "il Santo Padre" in that language. I also hope you’ve gained enough social skills and experience to be presented to anyone without feeling embarrassed or judged. If you’re not quite there yet, which I can’t imagine you are completely, practice will improve it daily, and habit will eventually perfect it. I’ve been telling you for a while now that the major challenges are mostly overcome. You’ve gained knowledge, which is the "principium et fons"; but now you need to focus on various smaller matters that collectively form a significant and important goal. You can easily guess I’m referring to grace, poise, presence, politeness, and everything that shapes the demeanor and charm of a fashionable person. So many little things work together to create that demeanor, that while each seems too trivial to mention on its own, collectively they’re too important for me (who think of everything for you down to the tiniest details) to ignore. For example, are you getting accustomed to carving, eating, and drinking with style and ease? Do you make sure to walk, sit, stand, and present yourself gracefully? Are you being mindful of awkward postures and rude, unpleasant habits like scratching yourself or sticking your fingers in your mouth, nose, or ears? These are habits often picked up in school but unfortunately neglected later; however, they’re extremely rude and off-putting. I don’t think anyone has the right to exhibit any unrefined behavior in public. Do you dress well and pay some attention to your appearance? That’s important too, because it’s "prevenant." Are you aiming for easy-going, charming, yet respectful manners depending on the company you’re in? These, along with a thousand other things you’ll notice in fashionable people better than I can describe, are absolutely essential for every man; but especially for you, more than almost anyone else. The flashy, polished, appealing aspects of a fine gentleman's character should (considering your future) be your primary focus right now.
When you return here, I am apt to think that you will find something better to do than to run to Mr. Osborne’s at Gray’s Inn, to pick up scarce books. Buy good books and read them; the best books are the commonest, and the last editions are always the best, if the editors are not blockheads, for they may profit of the former. But take care not to understand editions and title-pages too well. It always smells of pedantry, and not always of learning. What curious books I have—they are indeed but few—shall be at your service. I have some of the old Collana, and the Machiavel of 1550. Beware of the ‘Bibliomanie’.
When you come back here, I think you’ll find something better to do than rush over to Mr. Osborne’s at Gray’s Inn to pick up rare books. Buy good books and read them; the best books are often the most popular, and the latest editions are usually the best, as long as the editors aren’t clueless since they can learn from previous versions. Just be careful not to get too caught up in knowing about editions and title pages. It often comes off as pretentious, and not always as knowledgeable. The few interesting books I have will be available for you. I have some of the old Collana and the Machiavelli from 1550. Watch out for ‘Bibliomania’.
In the midst of either your studies or your pleasures, pray never lose view of the object of your destination: I mean the political affairs of Europe. Follow them politically, chronologically, and geographically, through the newspapers, and trace up the facts which you meet with there to their sources: as, for example, consult the treaties Neustadt and Abo, with regard to the disputes, which you read of every day in the public papers, between Russia and Sweden. For the affairs of Italy, which are reported to be the objects of present negotiations, recur to the quadruple alliance of the year 1718, and follow them down through their several variations to the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, 1748; in which (by the bye) you will find the very different tenures by which the Infant Don Philip, your namesake, holds Parma and Placentia. Consult, also, the Emperor Charles the Sixth’s Act of Cession of the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily, being a point which, upon the death of the present King of Spain, is likely to occasion some disputes; do not lose the thread of these matters; which is carried on with great ease, but if once broken, is resumed with difficulty.
While you're studying or enjoying yourself, always keep your focus on your main goal: the political situation in Europe. Stay updated on it through newspapers, following the events politically, chronologically, and geographically, and trace the information you come across back to its sources. For instance, check the treaties of Neustadt and Abo regarding the ongoing disputes you read about daily between Russia and Sweden. For the issues in Italy, rumored to be the subjects of current negotiations, refer to the quadruple alliance from 1718 and track these through their various changes until the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748. In that treaty, you will find the different ways your namesake, Infant Don Philip, holds Parma and Placentia. Also, look into Emperor Charles the Sixth’s Act of Cession of the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily, as this could spark disputes upon the death of the current King of Spain. Stay on top of these matters; the thread is easy to follow, but once broken, it's hard to pick up again.
Pray tell Mr. Harte, that I have sent his packet to Baron Firmian by Count Einsiedlen, who is gone from hence this day for Germany, and passes through Vienna in his way to Italy; where he is in hopes of crossing upon you somewhere or other. Adieu, my friend.
Pray tell Mr. Harte that I’ve sent his package to Baron Firmian via Count Einsiedlen, who left here today for Germany and is passing through Vienna on his way to Italy; he hopes to run into you somewhere along the way. Goodbye, my friend.
LETTER CIX
LONDON, March 29, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: You are now, I suppose, at Naples, in a new scene of ‘Virtu’, examining all the curiosities of Herculaneum, watching the eruptions of Mount Vesuvius, and surveying the magnificent churches and public buildings, by which Naples is distinguished.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I assume you’re currently in Naples, exploring a new world of 'Virtu', checking out all the wonders of Herculaneum, watching the eruptions of Mount Vesuvius, and admiring the stunning churches and public buildings that make Naples unique.
You have a court there into the bargain, which, I hope, you frequent and attend to. Polite manners, a versatility of mind, a complaisance even to enemies, and the ‘volto sciolto’, with the ‘pensieri stretti’, are only to be learned at courts, and must be well learned by whoever would either shine or thrive in them. Though they do not change the nature, they smooth and soften the manners of mankind. Vigilance, dexterity, and flexibility supply the place of natural force; and it is the ablest mind, not the strongest body that prevails there. Monsieur and Madame Fogliani will, I am sure, show you all the politeness of courts; for I know no better bred people than they are. Domesticate yourself there while you stay at Naples, and lay aside the English coldness and formality. You have also a letter to Comte Mahony, whose house I hope you frequent, as it is the resort of the best company. His sister, Madame Bulkeley, is now here; and had I known of your going so soon to Naples, I would have got you, ‘ex abundanti’, a letter from her to her brother. The conversation of the moderns in the evening is full as necessary for you, as that of the ancients in the morning.
You have a court available to you, which I hope you visit and engage with. Good manners, a flexible mindset, politeness even towards your enemies, and the ability to appear easygoing while keeping your thoughts private can only be mastered at courts, and those who wish to stand out or succeed there must learn them well. While they don't change human nature, they do refine and soften people's behavior. Watchfulness, skill, and adaptability take the place of natural strength; and it's the sharpest mind, not the strongest body, that prevails in those circles. I'm sure Monsieur and Madame Fogliani will show you all the courtesies of the court because I don’t know anyone better raised than they are. Make yourself at home there while you're in Naples, and set aside the coldness and formality typical of the English. You also have a letter to Comte Mahony, whose home I hope you visit, as it is a gathering place for the finest company. His sister, Madame Bulkeley, is currently here; and if I had known you were leaving for Naples so soon, I would have gotten you an extra letter from her to her brother. Engaging in modern conversations in the evening is just as important for you as discussing ancient topics in the morning.
You would do well, while you are at Naples, to read some very short history of that kingdom. It has had great variety of masters, and has occasioned many wars; the general history of which will enable you to ask many proper questions, and to receive useful informations in return. Inquire into the manner and form of that government; for constitution it has none, being an absolute one; but the most absolute governments have certain customs and forms, which are more or less observed by their respective tyrants. In China it is the fashion for the emperors, absolute as they are, to govern with justice and equity; as in the other Oriental monarchies, it is the custom to govern by violence and cruelty. The King of France, as absolute, in fact, as any of them, is by custom only more gentle; for I know of no constitutional bar to his will. England is now, the only monarchy in the world, that can properly be said to have a constitution; for the people’s rights and liberties are secured by laws; and I cannot reckon Sweden and Poland to be monarchies, those two kings having little more to say than the Doge of Venice. I do not presume to say anything of the constitution of the empire to you, who are ‘jurisperitorum Germanicorum facile princeps’.
While you're in Naples, it would be a good idea to read some brief history of that kingdom. It has had many different rulers and has led to numerous wars; knowing the general history will help you ask insightful questions and gain valuable information in return. Look into how the government is structured; it technically has no constitution, since it's an absolute monarchy. However, even the most absolute governments have certain customs and practices that their rulers follow to varying degrees. In China, it's customary for the emperors, despite their absolute power, to govern justly and fairly; whereas in other Eastern monarchies, the norm is to rule with force and cruelty. The King of France, as absolute as any of them, is typically gentler by custom, as there are no constitutional limits on his power. England is currently the only monarchy in the world that truly has a constitution, as the rights and freedoms of the people are protected by laws. I can't categorize Sweden or Poland as actual monarchies since their kings have little more authority than the Doge of Venice. I'm not going to comment on the constitution of the empire to you, who is widely regarded as the foremost expert on German legal matters.
When you write to me, which, by the way, you do pretty seldom, tell me rather whom you see, than what you see. Inform me of your evening transactions and acquaintances; where, and how you pass your evenings; what people of learning you have made acquaintance with; and, if you will trust me with so important an affair, what belle passion inflames you. I interest myself most in what personally concerns you most; and this is a very critical year in your life. To talk like a virtuoso, your canvas is, I think, a good one, and RAPHAEL HARTE has drawn the outlines admirably; nothing is now wanting but the coloring of Titian, and the Graces, the ‘morbidezza’ of Guido; but that is a great deal. You must get them soon, or you will never get them at all. ‘Per la lingua Italiana, sono sicuro ch’ella n’e adesso professore, a segno tale ch’io non ardisca dirle altra cosa in quela lingua se non. Addio’.
When you write to me, which, by the way, you do quite rarely, let me know more about the people you see rather than just what you see. Share your evening activities and who you're hanging out with; where and how you spend your evenings; what knowledgeable people you've met; and, if you trust me enough with such an important issue, what romantic feelings you have. I'm most interested in what concerns you personally, especially since this is a significant year in your life. To put it like an expert, your situation is, I believe, a good one, and RAPHAEL HARTE has outlined it beautifully; all that's missing now is the coloring of Titian and the elegance, the ‘morbidezza’ of Guido; but that's quite a lot. You need to get those soon, or you might never get them at all. ‘As for the Italian language, I’m sure it now has a professor, to such a degree that I don't dare say anything else in that language except. Goodbye’.
LETTER CX
LONDON, April 26, O. S. 1756.
MY DEAR FRIEND: As your journey to Paris approaches, and as that period will, one way or another, be of infinite consequence to you, my letters will henceforward be principally calculated for that meridian. You will be left there to your own discretion, instead of Mr. Harte’s, and you will allow me, I am sure, to distrust a little the discretion of eighteen. You will find in the Academy a number of young fellows much less discreet than yourself. These will all be your acquaintances; but look about you first, and inquire into their respective characters, before you form any connections among them; and, ‘caeteris paribus’, single out those of the most considerable rank and family. Show them a distinguishing attention; by which means you will get into their respective houses, and keep the best company. All those French young fellows are excessively ‘etourdis’; be upon your guard against scrapes and quarrels; have no corporal pleasantries with them, no ‘jeux de mains’, no ‘coups de chambriere’, which frequently bring on quarrels. Be as lively as they, if you please, but at the same time be a little wiser than they. As to letters, you will find most of them ignorant; do not reproach them with that ignorance, nor make them feel your superiority. It is not their faults, they are all bred up for the army; but, on the other, hand, do not allow their ignorance and idleness to break in upon those morning hours which you may be able to allot to your serious, studies. No breakfastings with them, which consume a great deal of time; but tell them (not magisterially and sententiously) that you will read two or three hours in the morning, and that for the rest of the day you are very much at their service. Though, by the way, I hope you will keep wiser company in the evenings.
MY DEAR FRIEND: As your trip to Paris gets closer, and since that time will be incredibly significant for you, my letters will now primarily focus on that topic. You will be left to your own judgment instead of Mr. Harte’s, and I trust you won’t mind if I am a bit skeptical about the judgment of an eighteen-year-old. You’ll encounter many young guys at the Academy who are far less discreet than you. They will all become your acquaintances, but take some time to look around and learn about their characters before you form any friendships with them; and, all else being equal, choose those with the most notable status and family background. Give them special attention; this way, you'll be able to visit their homes and socialize with the best crowd. All those French young guys are quite reckless; so be careful to avoid getting into trouble or fights; no roughhousing with them, no playful wrestling, no whacks with a ruler, which often lead to conflicts. You can be lively like them if you want, but also be a bit wiser than they are. Regarding academics, you'll find most of them lacking in knowledge; don’t remind them of this ignorance or flaunt your superiority. It’s not their fault; they’ve all been raised for military life. Still, don’t let their ignorance and laziness interfere with those mornings you can dedicate to your serious studies. Avoid lengthy breakfasts with them that waste a lot of time; just tell them (not in a bossy or preachy way) that you'll be studying for a couple of hours in the morning, and that during the rest of the day, you’re very much available to them. By the way, I hope you'll choose better company in the evenings.
I must insist upon your never going to what is called the English coffee-house at Paris, which is the resort of all the scrub English, and also of the fugitive and attainted Scotch and Irish; party quarrels and drunken squabbles are very frequent there; and I do not know a more degrading place in all Paris. Coffee-houses and taverns are by no means creditable at Paris. Be cautiously upon your guard against the infinite number of fine-dressed and fine-spoken ‘chevaliers d’industrie’ and ‘avanturiers’ which swarm at Paris: and keep everybody civilly at arm’s length, of whose real character or rank you are not previously informed. Monsieur le Comte or Monsieur le Chevalier, in a handsome laced coat, ‘et tres bien mis’, accosts you at the play, or some other public place; he conceives at first sight an infinite regard for you: he sees that you are a stranger of the first distinction; he offers you his services, and wishes nothing more ardently than to contribute, as far as may be in his little power, to procure you ‘les agremens de Paris’. He is acquainted with some ladies of condition, ‘qui prefrent une petite societe agreable, et des petits soupers aimables d’honnetes gens, au tumulte et a la dissipation de Paris’; and he will with the greatest pleasure imaginable have the honor of introducing you to those ladies of quality. Well, if you were to accept of this kind offer, and go with him, you would find ‘au troisieme; a handsome, painted and p——d strumpet, in a tarnished silver or gold second-hand robe, playing a sham party at cards for livres, with three or four sharpers well dressed enough, and dignified by the titles of Marquis, Comte, and Chevalier. The lady receives you in the most polite and gracious manner, and with all those ‘complimens de routine’ which every French woman has equally. Though she loves retirement, and shuns ‘le grande monde’, yet she confesses herself obliged to the Marquis for having procured her so inestimable, so accomplished an acquaintance as yourself; but her concern is how to amuse you: for she never suffers play at her house for above a livre; if you can amuse yourself with that low play till supper, ‘a la bonne heure’. Accordingly you sit down to that little play, at which the good company takes care that you shall win fifteen or sixteen livres, which gives them an opportunity of celebrating both your good luck and your good play. Supper comes up, and a good one it is, upon the strength of your being able to pay for it. ‘La Marquise en fait les honneurs au mieux, talks sentiments, ‘moeurs et morale’, interlarded with ‘enjouement’, and accompanied with some oblique ogles, which bid you not despair in time. After supper, pharaoh, lansquenet, or quinze, happen accidentally to be mentioned: the Marquise exclaims against it, and vows she will not suffer it, but is at last prevailed upon by being assured ‘que ce ne sera que pour des riens’. Then the wished-for moment is come, the operation begins: you are cheated, at best, of all the money in your pocket, and if you stay late, very probably robbed of your watch and snuff-box, possibly murdered for greater security. This I can assure you, is not an exaggerated, but a literal description of what happens every day to some raw and inexperienced stranger at Paris. Remember to receive all these civil gentlemen, who take such a fancy to you at first sight, very coldly, and take care always to be previously engaged, whatever party they propose to you. You may happen sometimes, in very great and good companies, to meet with some dexterous gentlemen, who may be very desirous, and also very sure, to win your money, if they can but engage you to play with them. Therefore lay it down as an invariable rule never to play with men, but only with women of fashion, at low play, or with women and men mixed. But, at the same time, whenever you are asked to play deeper than you would, do not refuse it gravely and sententiously, alleging the folly of staking what would be very inconvenient to one to lose, against what one does not want to win; but parry those invitations ludicrously, ‘et en badinant’. Say that, if you were sure to lose, you might possibly play, but that as you may as well win, you dread ‘l’embarras des richesses’, ever since you have seen what an encumbrance they were to poor Harlequin, and that, therefore, you are determined never to venture the winning above two louis a-day; this sort of light trifling way of declining invitations to vice and folly, is more becoming your age, and at the same time more effectual, than grave philosophical refusals. A young fellow who seems to have no will of his own, and who does everything that is asked of him, is called a very good-natured, but at the same time, is thought a very silly young fellow. Act wisely, upon solid principles, and from true motives, but keep them to yourself, and never talk sententiously. When you are invited to drink, say that you wish you could, but that so little makes you both drunk and sick, ‘que le jeu me vaut pas la chandelle’.
I have to insist that you avoid the so-called English coffee-house in Paris, which is a hangout for all the low-class English, as well as the fugitive and disgraced Scots and Irish. Fights and drunken arguments are common there, and I can't think of a more degrading place in all of Paris. Coffee-houses and taverns are by no means respectable in Paris. Be very careful of the countless well-dressed and smooth-talking con artists and adventurers that crowd the city, and keep everyone at a respectful distance if you're not sure about their true character or status. If a gentleman, whether a Count or a Knight, approaches you at the theater or another public place, dressed in a fancy coat and looking sharp, he may express an immediate fondness for you, thinking you're a distinguished stranger. He'll offer you his services and claim he wants nothing more than to help you enjoy the pleasures of Paris. He'll say he knows some ladies of high status who prefer a nice, pleasant gathering and intimate dinners with respectable people over the chaos and excess of the city; and he’ll be eager to introduce you to these high-born ladies. Well, if you take up this kind offer and follow him, you’ll find at their place a beautiful, painted woman, dressed in a shabby second-hand gown, playing a rigged card game for money with a few con men well enough dressed, boasting titles like Marquis, Count, and Knight. She'll welcome you in a very polite manner, throwing around the usual pleasantries that every French woman knows. Though she claims to love her privacy and avoid the high society, she will express gratitude to the Marquis for introducing her to someone as wonderful and accomplished as you; but her main concern will be how to keep you entertained. She only allows play in her home for up to a livre, so if you can have fun with that low stakes until dinner, that would be great. You'll sit down to this low-stakes game, during which the friendly company will ensure you win fifteen or sixteen livres, giving them a reason to celebrate both your luck and your skills. Dinner will arrive, and it'll be a nice one, thanks to your ability to pay for it. The Marquise will host elegantly, discussing feelings, customs, and morals, mixed with playful glances that suggest you shouldn’t lose hope. After dinner, if games like pharaoh, lansquenet, or quinze come up in conversation, the Marquise will complain about them and declare she won’t allow them, but eventually she'll give in after being assured that it will only be for nothing. Then the moment you've been waiting for arrives, and the scheme begins: you’ll be cheated out of all the money in your pocket, and if you stay late, you’ll likely get robbed of your watch and snuff box, or worse, possibly murdered for extra security. I promise you, this isn’t an exaggeration but a straightforward account of what happens daily to naive and inexperienced strangers in Paris. Remember to greet all those charming gentlemen who take a liking to you right away with coldness, and always provide an excuse that you’re already engaged with whatever they suggest. In really good company, you may come across some slick guys who are eager to win your money if they can just get you to play with them. So, make it a firm rule never to play against men, only against fashionable women, either at low stakes, or in a mixed group. However, whenever you are invited to gamble for more than you'd like, don’t decline seriously or with a lecture about the foolishness of risking what would hurt to lose against what you don't want to win; instead, fumble those invitations humorously. Say that if you were guaranteed to lose, you might play, but since you might also win, you fear "the burden of riches," especially after seeing what a hassle they were for poor Harlequin, so you're determined not to gamble more than two louis a day. This playful, light-hearted way of saying no to foolishness suits your age better and is more effective than serious, philosophical refusals. A young guy who seems to lack his own will and does everything he’s told is thought of as nice but ultimately pretty foolish. Act wisely, grounded in solid principles, but keep those to yourself, and don’t speak in a serious tone. When you're invited to drink, say you wish you could, but that even a little makes you both drunk and sick, "that the game isn't worth the candle."
Pray show great attention, and make your court to Monsieur de la Gueriniere; he is well with Prince Charles and many people of the first distinction at Paris; his commendations will raise your character there, not to mention that his favor will be of use to you in the Academy itself. For the reasons which I mentioned to you in my last, I would have you be interne in the Academy for the first six months; but after that, I promise you that you shall have lodgings of your own ‘dans un hotel garni’, if in the meantime I hear well of you, and that you frequent, and are esteemed in the best French companies. You want nothing now, thank God, but exterior advantages, that last polish, that ‘tournure du monde’, and those graces, which are so necessary to adorn, and give efficacy to, the most solid merit. They are only to be acquired in the best companies, and better in the best French companies than in any other. You will not want opportunities, for I shall send you letters that will establish you in the most distinguished companies, not only of the beau monde, but of the beaux esprits, too. Dedicate, therefore, I beg of you, that whole year to your own advantage and final improvement, and do not be diverted from those objects by idle dissipations, low seduction, or bad example. After that year, do whatever you please; I will interfere no longer in your conduct; for I am sure both you and I shall be safe then. Adieu!
Please pay close attention and make your appeal to Monsieur de la Gueriniere; he has good relations with Prince Charles and many prominent people in Paris. His recommendations will boost your reputation there, and his support will help you at the Academy as well. For the reasons I mentioned in my last letter, I want you to be an intern at the Academy for the first six months; after that, I promise you'll have your own place in a furnished hotel, provided I hear good things about you and that you engage with and are respected in the best French social circles. Right now, thank God, you lack only external advantages, that final touch, that worldly polish, and those graces that are necessary to enhance and give effectiveness to solid merit. These can only be learned in the best company, and there’s no better place for that than in high-class French circles. You won’t lack opportunities, as I will send you letters that will connect you with the most distinguished circles, not just of high society but of intellectuals as well. So, I urge you to dedicate this whole year to your own growth and development, and don’t let any distractions, low temptations, or bad influences divert you from your goals. After that year, you can do as you please; I won’t interfere with your choices anymore because I’m confident that both you and I will be secure then. Goodbye!
LETTER CXI
LONDON, April 30, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: Mr. Harte, who in all his letters gives you some dash of panegyric, told me in his last a thing that pleases me extremely; which was that at Rome you had constantly preferred the established Italian assemblies to the English conventicles setup against them by dissenting English ladies. That shows sense, and that you know what you are sent abroad for. It is of much more consequence to know the ‘mores multorem hominum’ than the ‘urbes’. Pray continue this judicious conduct wherever you go, especially at Paris, where, instead of thirty, you will find above three hundred English, herding together and conversing with no one French body.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Mr. Harte, who praises you in every letter, told me in his last one something that makes me very happy; he mentioned that in Rome you consistently preferred the established Italian gatherings to the English meetings set up by dissenting English ladies. That shows good judgment and that you understand the purpose of your travels. It’s far more important to know the “mores multorem hominum” than the “urbes.” Please keep up this wise approach wherever you go, especially in Paris, where instead of thirty, you'll find over three hundred English people, sticking together and not interacting with anyone French.
The life of ‘les Milords Anglois’ is regularly, or, if you will, irregularly, this. As soon as they rise, which is very late, they breakfast together, to the utter loss of two good morning hours. Then they go by coachfuls to the Palais, the Invalides, and Notre-Dame; from thence to the English coffee-house, where they make up their tavern party for dinner. From dinner, where they drink quick, they adjourn in clusters to the play, where they crowd up the stage, dressed up in very fine clothes, very ill-made by a Scotch or Irish tailor. From the play to the tavern again, where they get very drunk, and where they either quarrel among themselves, or sally forth, commit some riot in the streets, and are taken up by the watch. Those who do not speak French before they go, are sure to learn none there. Their tender vows are addressed to their Irish laundress, unless by chance some itinerant Englishwoman, eloped from her husband, or her creditors, defrauds her of them. Thus they return home, more petulant, but not more informed, than when they left it; and show, as they think, their improvement by affectedly both speaking and dressing in broken French:—
The life of 'the English Lords' is usually, or maybe not so usually, like this. As soon as they get up, which is pretty late, they have breakfast together, wasting two good morning hours. Then they go by the coachload to places like the Palais, the Invalides, and Notre-Dame; from there, they head to the English coffee house to set up their dinner group. After dinner, where they drink quickly, they break off into smaller groups to go to the theater, crowding the stage in very nice clothes that are poorly made by a Scottish or Irish tailor. From the theater, they head back to the tavern, where they drink a lot and either argue among themselves or go out, causing a ruckus in the streets and getting caught by the watch. Those who don’t speak French before they go will definitely not learn any while they’re there. Their sweet nothings are directed at their Irish laundress, unless a wandering Englishwoman, who has run away from her husband or creditors, steals their attention. They return home more irritable but no wiser than when they left; and they show what they think is improvement by pretentiously speaking and dressing in broken French:—
“Hunc to Romane caveito.”
“Beware of the Romans.”
Connect yourself, while you are in France, entirely with the French; improve yourself with the old, divert yourself with the young; conform cheerfully to their customs, even to their little follies, but not to their vices. Do not, however, remonstrate or preach against them, for remonstrances do not suit with your age. In French companies in general you will not find much learning, therefore take care not to brandish yours in their faces. People hate those who make them feel their own inferiority. Conceal all your learning carefully, and reserve it for the company of les Gens d’Eglise, or les Gens de Robe; and even then let them rather extort it from you, than find you over-willing to draw it. Your are then thought, from that seeming unwillingness, to have still more knowledge than it may be you really have, and with the additional merit of modesty into the bargain. A man who talks of, or even hints at, his ‘bonnes fortunes’, is seldom believed, or, if believed, much blamed; whereas a man who conceals with care is often supposed to have more than he has, and his reputation of discretion gets him others. It is just so with a man of learning; if he affects to show it, it is questioned, and he is reckoned only superficial; but if afterward it appears that he really has it, he is pronounced a pedant. Real merit of any kind, ‘ubi est non potest diu celari’; it will be discovered, and nothing can depreciate it but a man’s exhibiting it himself. It may not always be rewarded as it ought, but it will always be known. You will in general find the women of the beau monde at Paris more instructed than the men, who are bred up singly for the army, and thrown into it at twelve or thirteen years old; but then that sort of education, which makes them ignorant of books, gives them a great knowledge of the world, an easy address, and polite manners.
Connect with the French while you’re in France; learn from the elders and have fun with the young. Embrace their customs, even their quirky habits, but steer clear of their bad behaviors. Don’t criticize or preach to them, as complaining isn’t appropriate for someone your age. In general, you won’t find much knowledge in French social circles, so be careful not to flaunt yours. People dislike feeling inferior. Keep your knowledge to yourself and save it for conversations with clergymen or legal professionals; even then, let them draw it out of you instead of you volunteering it. This way, your reluctance makes you seem more knowledgeable than you might actually be and adds a touch of modesty. Someone who brags about their “good fortune” is rarely believed or often criticized; meanwhile, a person who keeps things under wraps is thought to have more than they do, and their discretion earns them respect. The same applies to knowledgeable people; if they show off what they know, it’s questioned, and they’re seen as shallow. But if it’s revealed later that they genuinely know something, they’re called a know-it-all. True talent can’t stay hidden for long; it will come to light, and the only thing that can diminish it is the person showing it off themselves. While it might not always get the recognition it deserves, it will always be known. Generally, you’ll find that women in Parisian high society are more educated than the men, who are raised solely for the military and are enlisted at just twelve or thirteen. However, this kind of schooling, which leaves them unfamiliar with books, gives them significant worldly knowledge, a charming demeanor, and refined manners.
Fashion is more tyrannical at Paris than in any other place in the world; it governs even more absolutely than their king, which is saying a great deal. The least revolt against it is punished by proscription. You must observe, and conform to all the ‘minutiae’ of it, if you will be in fashion there yourself; and if you are not in fashion, you are nobody. Get, therefore, at all events, into the company of those men and women ‘qui donnent le ton’; and though at first you should be admitted upon that shining theatre only as a ‘persona muta’, persist, persevere, and you will soon have a part given you. Take great care never to tell in one company what you see or hear in another, much less to divert the present company at the expense of the last; but let discretion and secrecy be known parts of your character. They will carry you much further, and much safer than more shining talents. Be upon your guard against quarrels at Paris; honor is extremely nice there, though the asserting of it is exceedingly penal. Therefore, ‘point de mauvaises plaisanteries, point de jeux de main, et point de raillerie piquante’.
Fashion in Paris is more controlling than anywhere else in the world; it rules more strictly than their king, which is saying something. Any attempt to rebel against it is met with severe consequences. You have to pay attention to and follow all the details if you want to be fashionable there yourself; and if you're not fashionable, you don't matter. So, make sure you get into the circles of those who set the trends; even if you're initially just an onlooker, keep trying, and you'll soon earn a role for yourself. Be careful not to share what you see or hear in one group with another, and definitely don’t entertain the current company at the expense of the last; let discretion and secrecy be key traits in your character. They'll take you much further, and more safely, than flashier talents. Be cautious about arguments in Paris; honor is taken very seriously there, but defending it can lead to serious trouble. So, avoid bad jokes, horseplay, and sharp sarcasm.
Paris is the place in the world where, if you please, you may the best unite the ‘utile’ and the ‘dulce’. Even your pleasures will be your improvements, if you take them with the people of the place, and in high life. From what you have hitherto done everywhere else, I have just reason to believe, that you will do everything that you ought at Paris. Remember that it is your decisive moment; whatever you do there will be known to thousands here, and your character there, whatever it is, will get before you here. You will meet with it at London. May you and I both have reason to rejoice at that meeting! Adieu.
Paris is the place in the world where, if you want, you can best combine the practical and the enjoyable. Even your pleasures will contribute to your growth if you share them with the locals and engage in high society. Based on what you've done everywhere else, I have good reason to believe you'll do everything you need to do while in Paris. Remember, this is your pivotal moment; everything you do there will be known by thousands here, and your reputation there, whatever it may be, will precede you here. You'll encounter it in London. I hope both you and I have reasons to celebrate that meeting! Goodbye.
LETTER CXII
LONDON, May 8, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: At your age the love of pleasures is extremely natural, and the enjoyment of them not unbecoming: but the danger, at your age, is mistaking the object, and setting out wrong in the pursuit. The character of a man of pleasure dazzles young eyes; they do not see their way to it distinctly, and fall into vice and profligacy. I remember a strong instance of this a great many years ago. A young fellow, determined to shine as a man of pleasure, was at the play called the “Libertine Destroyed,” a translation of ‘Le Festin de Pierre’ of Molieire’s. He was so struck with what he thought the fine character of the libertine, that he swore he would be the LIBERTINE DESTROYED. Some friends asked him, whether he had not better content himself with being only the libertine, but without being DESTROYED? to which he answered with great warmth, “No, for that being destroyed was the perfection of the whole.” This, extravagant as it seems in this light, is really the case of many an unfortunate young fellow, who, captivated by the name of pleasures, rushes indiscriminately, and without taste, into them all, and is finally DESTROYED. I am not stoically advising, nor parsonically preaching to you to be a Stoic at your age; far from it: I am pointing out to you the paths to pleasures, and am endeavoring only to quicken and heighten them for you. Enjoy pleasures, but let them be your own, and then you will taste them; but adopt none; trust to nature for genuine ones. The pleasures that you would feel you must earn; the man who gives himself up to all, feels none sensibly. Sardanapalus, I am convinced, never felt any in his life. Those only who join serious occupations with pleasures, feel either as they should do. Alcibiades, though addicted to the most shameful excesses, gave some time to philosophy, and some to business. Julius Caesar joined business with pleasure so properly, that they mutually assisted each other; and though he was the husband of all the wives at Rome, he found time to be one of the best scholars, almost the best orator, and absolutely the best general there. An uninterrupted life of pleasures is as insipid as contemptible. Some hours given every day to serious business must whet both the mind and the senses, to enjoy those of pleasure. A surfeited glutton, an emaciated sot, and an enervated rotten whoremaster, never enjoy the pleasures to which they devote themselves; but they are only so many human sacrifices to false gods. The pleasures of low life are all of this mistaken, merely sensual, and disgraceful nature; whereas, those of high life, and in good company (though possibly in themselves not more moral) are more delicate, more refined, less dangerous, and less disgraceful; and, in the common course of things, not reckoned disgraceful at all. In short, pleasure must not, nay, cannot, be the business of a man of sense and character; but it may be, and is, his relief, his reward. It is particularly so with regard to the women; who have the utmost contempt for those men, that, having no character nor consideration with their own sex, frivolously pass their whole time in ‘ruelles’ and at ‘toilettes’. They look upon them as their lumber, and remove them whenever they can get better furniture. Women choose their favorites more by the ear than by any other of their senses or even their understandings. The man whom they hear the most commended by the men, will always be the best received by them. Such a conquest flatters their vanity, and vanity is their universal, if not their strongest passion. A distinguished shining character is irresistible with them; they crowd to, nay, they even quarrel for the danger in hopes of the triumph. Though, by the way (to use a vulgar expression), she who conquers only catches a Tartar, and becomes the slave of her captive. ‘Mais c’est la leur affaire’. Divide your time between useful occupations and elegant pleasures. The morning seems to belong to study, business, or serious conversations with men of learning and figure; not that I exclude an occasional hour at a toilette. From sitting down to dinner, the proper business of the day is pleasure, unless real business, which must never be postponed for pleasure, happens accidentally to interfere. In good company, the pleasures of the table are always carried to a certain point of delicacy and gratification, but never to excess and riot. Plays, operas, balls, suppers, gay conversations in polite and cheerful companies, properly conclude the evenings; not to mention the tender looks that you may direct and the sighs that you may offer, upon these several occasions, to some propitious or unpropitious female deity, whose character and manners will neither disgrace nor corrupt yours. This is the life of a man of real sense and pleasure; and by this distribution of your time, and choice of your pleasures, you will be equally qualified for the busy, or the ‘beau monde’. You see I am not rigid, and do not require that you and I should be of the same age. What I say to you, therefore, should have the more weight, as coming from a friend, not a father. But low company, and their low vices, their indecent riots and profligacy, I never will bear nor forgive.
MY DEAR FRIEND: At your age, loving pleasures is completely natural, and enjoying them isn't inappropriate. However, the danger lies in misidentifying the goal and starting off on the wrong path in the pursuit of them. The idea of a pleasure-seeker can be blinding to young eyes; they often don’t see the path clearly and can stumble into vice and recklessness. I remember a strong example from many years ago. A young guy determined to be a pleasure-seeker went to see a play called “The Libertine Destroyed,” a translation of Molière’s ‘Le Festin de Pierre.’ He was so impressed by what he thought was the appealing character of the libertine that he vowed to be the LIBERTINE DESTROYED. When some friends suggested he might be better off just being a libertine without the destruction, he passionately replied, “No, because being destroyed is the ultimate goal.” This, as extreme as it sounds, reflects the situation of many young men who, enchanted by the idea of pleasure, throw themselves indiscriminately and without discernment into all of it and ultimately find themselves DESTROYED. I’m not advising you to live rigidly or preach like a clergyman; on the contrary, I’m helping you navigate the paths to pleasure and trying to enhance and amplify your enjoyment of them. Enjoy pleasures, but make them your own so you can truly savor them; don’t just take what’s handed to you; trust nature for genuine delights. The pleasures you experience should be earned; a person who indulges in everything feels little to nothing. I’m convinced that Sardanapalus never truly experienced pleasure in his life. Those who mix serious activities with pleasures are the ones who feel deeply. Alcibiades, despite engaging in shameful excesses, devoted some time to philosophy and some to important undertakings. Julius Caesar balanced business and pleasure so well that they complemented each other; and although he was married to all the women in Rome, he managed to become one of the best scholars, practically the best orator, and undoubtedly the best general. A life spent entirely on pleasures is not only dull but also despicable. Setting aside a few hours each day for serious work sharpens both your mind and senses, making you better able to enjoy pleasures. A glutton who's overindulged, an emaciated drunk, and a feeble libertine never truly relish the pleasures they chase; they are merely sacrifices to false deities. The pleasures of low life are confused, purely sensual, and disgraceful; while those of high life, especially in good company (though possibly just as morally ambiguous), are more refined, less risky, and less shameful; typically, they aren’t seen as shameful at all. In short, pleasure shouldn’t be, and can’t be, the main focus for a sensible person of character; instead, it should be his relief and reward. This is particularly true regarding women, who typically have great contempt for men who, lacking character or respect from their peers, waste their time in ‘ruelles’ and at ‘toilettes.’ They see men like that as their castoffs and get rid of them whenever they can find a better option. Women tend to choose their favorites more based on what they hear than any other sense or even understanding. The guys who are most praised by other men will always be better received by them. Such a conquest flatters their vanity, which is their universal—and possibly strongest—passion. A standout, charismatic character is irresistible to them; they flock to it, even fighting over the excitement for the chance at victory. However, by the way (to put it in a way everyone understands), the one who wins often finds herself with a Tartar and becomes a slave to her conquest. 'But that's their problem.' Balance your time between useful tasks and refined pleasures. Mornings should be dedicated to study, work, or serious discussions with knowledgeable and reputable individuals; not that I’m excluding the occasional hour at a ‘toilette.’ After sitting down to dinner, the main focus should be on pleasure, unless genuine business— which should never be postponed for pleasure—happens to interfere. In good company, the pleasures of the table are always experienced with a level of delicacy and satisfaction, but never to excess or chaos. Plays, operas, balls, late-night dinners, and enjoyable conversations in polite and cheerful settings should wrap up your evenings; not to mention the flirtatious glances and sighs you might direct toward some favorable or unfavorable lady, whose presence won’t tarnish or corrupt yours. This is the life of a true man of sense and pleasure; and by managing your time well and choosing your pleasures wisely, you will be prepared for both a busy and a stylish social life. You see, I’m not rigid and I don’t insist that you and I be of the same age. What I say to you should carry more weight as it comes from a friend rather than a father. But I will never tolerate or forgive the company of those with lowly vices, their disgraceful revelries, and depravity.
I have lately received two volumes of treaties, in German and Latin, from Hawkins, with your orders, under your own hand, to take care of them for you, which orders I shall most dutifully and punctually obey, and they wait for you in my library, together with your great collection of rare books, which your Mamma sent me upon removing from her old house.
I recently got two volumes of treaties, in German and Latin, from Hawkins, along with your written instructions to look after them for you. I’ll follow your orders carefully and they’re waiting for you in my library, along with your impressive collection of rare books that your mom sent me when she moved from her old house.
I hope you not only keep up, but improve in your German, for it will be of great use to you when you cone into business; and the more so, as you will be almost the only Englishman who either can speak or understand it. Pray speak it constantly to all Germans, wherever you meet them, and you will meet multitudes of them at Paris. Is Italian now become easy and familiar to you? Can you speak it with the same fluency that you can speak German? You cannot conceive what an advantage it will give you in negotiations to possess Italian, German, and French perfectly, so as to understand all the force and finesse of those three languages. If two men of equal talents negotiate together, he who best understands the language in which the negotiation is carried on, will infallibly get the better of the other. The signification and force of one single word is often of great consequence in a treaty, and even in a letter.
I hope you not only keep up but also improve your German, as it will be very useful for you in business. Additionally, you'll be almost the only English person who can speak or understand it. Try to speak it regularly with all Germans you meet, and you'll encounter many in Paris. Is Italian now easy and familiar to you? Can you speak it as fluently as you can speak German? You can't imagine what a huge advantage it will give you in negotiations to be fluent in Italian, German, and French, allowing you to grasp all the nuances and subtleties of those three languages. If two equally talented people are negotiating, the one who understands the language of the negotiation best will always have the upper hand. The meaning and impact of just one word can be very significant in a treaty or even in a letter.
Remember the GRACES, for without them ‘ogni fatica e vana’. Adieu.
Remember the GRACES, for without them ‘every effort is in vain’. Goodbye.
LETTER CXIII
LONDON, May 17, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your apprenticeship is near out, and you are soon to set up for yourself; that approaching moment is a critical one for you, and an anxious one for me. A tradesman who would succeed in his way, must begin by establishing a character of integrity and good manners; without the former, nobody will go to his shop at all; without the latter, nobody will go there twice. This rule does not exclude the fair arts of trade. He may sell his goods at the best price he can, within certain bounds. He may avail himself of the humor, the whims, and the fantastical tastes of his customers; but what he warrants to be good must be really so, what he seriously asserts must be true, or his first fraudulent profits will soon end in a bankruptcy. It is the same in higher life, and in the great business of the world. A man who does not solidly establish, and really deserve, a character of truth, probity, good manners, and good morals, at his first setting out in the world, may impose, and shine like a meteor for a very short time, but will very soon vanish, and be extinguished with contempt. People easily pardon, in young men, the common irregularities of the senses: but they do not forgive the least vice of the heart. The heart never grows better by age; I fear rather worse; always harder. A young liar will be an old one; and a young knave will only be a greater knave as he grows older. But should a bad young heart, accompanied with a good head (which, by the way, very seldom is the case), really reform in a more advanced age, from a consciousness of its folly, as well as of its guilt; such a conversion would only be thought prudential and political, but never sincere. I hope in God, and I verily. believe, that you want no moral virtue. But the possession of all the moral virtues, in ‘actu primo’, as the logicians call it, is not sufficient; you must have them in ‘actu secundo’ too; nay, that is not sufficient neither—you must have the reputation of them also. Your character in the world must be built upon that solid foundation, or it will soon fall, and upon your own head. You cannot, therefore, be too careful, too nice, too scrupulous, in establishing this character at first, upon which your whole depends. Let no conversation, no example, no fashion, no ‘bon mot’, no silly desire of seeming to be above, what most knaves, and many fools, call prejudices, ever tempt you to avow, excuse, extenuate, or laugh at the least breach of morality; but show upon all occasions, and take all occasions to show, a detestation and abhorrence of it. There, though young, you ought to be strict; and there only, while young, it becomes you to be strict and severe. But there, too, spare the persons while you lash the crimes. All this relates, as you easily judge, to the vices of the heart, such as lying, fraud, envy, malice, detraction, etc., and I do not extend it to the little frailties of youth, flowing from high spirits and warm blood. It would ill become you, at your age, to declaim against them, and sententiously censure a gallantry, an accidental excess of the table, a frolic, an inadvertency; no, keep as free from them yourself as you can: but say nothing against them in others. They certainly mend by time, often by reason; and a man’s worldly character is not affected by them, provided it be pure in all other respects.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your apprenticeship is almost over, and you're about to start on your own; that moment is critical for you and anxious for me. A tradesman who wants to succeed must first establish a reputation for integrity and good manners; without the former, no one will visit his shop at all; without the latter, no one will return. This rule doesn’t exclude fair trading practices. He can sell his goods for the best price he can within reasonable limits. He can take advantage of his customers' moods, quirks, and unique tastes; but what he claims to be good must truly be so, and what he asserts must be true, or his initial dishonest profits will quickly lead to bankruptcy. The same applies to higher pursuits and the larger endeavors in life. A man who doesn’t firmly establish and genuinely deserve a reputation for truth, integrity, good manners, and morality at the start may impress like a shooting star for a brief moment, but will soon fade away and be looked on with disdain. People tend to overlook the common youthful mistakes; however, they do not forgive even the smallest moral failing. The heart does not improve with age; I suspect it often becomes harder. A young liar will become an old liar, and a young trickster will only grow into a greater trickster as he ages. But if a bad heart, paired with a good mind (though that’s rarely the case), truly reforms in later years due to an awareness of its foolishness and guilt; such a change would be viewed as strategic and pragmatic, but never sincere. I hope, and I truly believe, that you possess moral virtue. However, having all moral virtues in practice isn’t enough; you must also embody them in reputation; moreover, that alone isn’t sufficient—you must also be recognized for them. Your reputation in the world must be built on a solid foundation, or it will soon crumble, impacting you directly. Therefore, you cannot be too careful, too attentive, or too meticulous in establishing this character at the outset, as it is crucial to your future. Let no conversation, example, trend, witty remark, or foolish desire to seem superior to what many deceitful people and plenty of fools call prejudices tempt you to admit, justify, minimize, or laugh off even the slightest breach of morality; instead, express, and take all opportunities to demonstrate, your disdain and rejection of it. There, even though you are young, you should be strict; and that is the only area where it is appropriate for you to be serious and firm while young. However, do spare individuals while criticizing their actions. All of this refers, as you can easily infer, to heart-related vices, such as lying, fraud, envy, malice, slander, etc., and I do not extend it to the minor shortcomings of youth that stem from high spirits and passion. It wouldn’t be fitting for you, at your age, to denounce these things, or to harshly judge a flirtation, an occasional indulgence at the table, a playful escapade, or an unintentional blunder; instead, keep yourself as free from them as you can: but don’t speak against them in others. They often improve with time, sometimes with reason; and a man’s reputation isn’t tarnished by them, as long as it is intact in every other aspect.
To come now to a point of much less, but yet of very great consequence at your first setting out. Be extremely upon your guard against vanity, the common failing of inexperienced youth; but particularly against that kind of vanity that dubs a man a coxcomb; a character which, once acquired, is more indelible than that of the priesthood. It is not to be imagined by how many different ways vanity defeats its own purposes. One man decides peremptorily upon every subject, betrays his ignorance upon many, and shows a disgusting presumption upon the rest. Another desires to appear successful among the women; he hints at the encouragement he has received, from those of the most distinguished rank and beauty, and intimates a particular connection with some one; if it is true, it is ungenerous; if false, it is infamous: but in either case he destroys the reputation he wants to get. Some flatter their vanity by little extraneous objects, which have not the least relation to themselves; such as being descended from, related to, or acquainted with, people of distinguished merit and eminent characters. They talk perpetually of their grandfather such-a-one, their uncle such-a-one, and their intimate friend Mr. Such-a-one, with whom, possibly, they are hardly acquainted. But admitting it all to be as they would have it, what then? Have they the more merit for those accidents? Certainly not. On the contrary, their taking up adventitious, proves their want of intrinsic merit; a rich man never borrows. Take this rule for granted, as a never-failing one: That you must never seem to affect the character in which you have a mind to shine. Modesty is the only sure bait when you angle for praise. The affectation of courage will make even a brave man pass only for a bully; as the affectation of wit will make a man of parts pass for a coxcomb. By this modesty I do not mean timidity and awkward bashfulness. On the contrary, be inwardly firm and steady, know your own value whatever it may be, and act upon that principle; but take great care to let nobody discover that you do know your own value. Whatever real merit you have, other people will discover, and people always magnify their own discoveries, as they lessen those of others.
Now let’s get to a topic that’s less important but still significant as you start out. Be very careful about vanity, which is a common flaw among young people; especially the kind of vanity that makes someone look foolish—a label that, once attached, sticks longer than even the title of priesthood. You’d be surprised by how many ways vanity can undermine its own goals. One person insists they know everything, reveals their ignorance on many topics, and comes off as obnoxiously arrogant about the rest. Another tries to impress women by hinting at the attention he’s received from high-ranking and beautiful individuals, suggesting a special relationship with someone; if it’s true, it’s selfish; if it’s false, it’s disgraceful: either way, he tarnishes the reputation he seeks to build. Some people boost their egos by associating with notable figures, claiming connections to those with great merit and achievements. They constantly mention their grandfather or uncle or close friend, Mr. So-and-so, with whom they might barely have a relationship. But even if everything they say is true, how does that actually increase their own worth? It doesn’t. In fact, their reliance on external connections highlights their lack of inner merit; after all, a wealthy person doesn’t borrow. Accept this rule as infallible: Never try to force the persona you want to embody. Modesty is your best bet when seeking praise. Pretending to be brave can make even a courageous person come off as a bully, just as pretending to be witty can make a clever person seem like a fool. By modesty, I don’t mean being timid and awkward. On the contrary, be strong and assured, know your own worth no matter what, and act accordingly; but be careful to keep others from realizing that you understand your own worth. Whatever true talent you possess will be recognized by others, and people tend to exaggerate their own discoveries while downplaying those of others.
For God’s sake, revolve all these things seriously in your thoughts, before you launch out alone into the ocean of Paris. Recollect the observations that you have yourself made upon mankind, compare and connect them with my instructions, and then act systematically and consequentially from them; not ‘au jour la journee’. Lay your little plan now, which you will hereafter extend and improve by your own observations, and by the advice of those who can never mean to mislead you; I mean Mr. Harte and myself.
For goodness' sake, think carefully about all these things before you venture out alone into the hustle and bustle of Paris. Remember the observations you've made about people, compare them to my advice, and then act with purpose and follow through. Don’t just go day by day. Make a small plan now that you can later expand and refine based on your own experiences and the guidance of those who truly want to help you—specifically, Mr. Harte and me.
LETTER CXIV
LONDON, May 24., O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 7th, N. S., from Naples, to which place I find you have traveled, classically, critically, and ‘da virtuoso’. You did right, for whatever is worth seeing at, all, is worth seeing well, and better than most people see it. It is a poor and frivolous excuse, when anything curious is talked of that one has seen, to say, I SAW IT, BUT REALLY I DID NOT MUCH MIND IT. Why did they go to see it, if they would not mind it? or why not mind it when they saw it? Now that you are at Naples, you pass part of your time there ‘en honnete homme, da garbato cavaliere’, in the court and the best companies. I am told that strangers are received with the utmost hospitality at Prince———-’s, ‘que lui il fait bonne chere, et que Madame la Princesse donne chere entire; mais que sa chair est plus que hazardee ou mortifiee meme’; which in plain English means, that she is not only tender, but rotten. If this be true, as I am pretty sure it is, one may say to her in a little sense, ‘juvenumque prodis, publics cura’.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from Naples yesterday, dated the 7th, N. S. I see you have traveled there, with a classic perspective and a critical eye. You made the right choice because anything worth seeing is worth seeing well, better than most people do. It's a poor excuse when something interesting comes up that someone has seen to say, "I SAW IT, BUT I REALLY DIDN'T THINK MUCH OF IT." Why did they go if they didn't care about it? Or why not care when they saw it? Now that you're in Naples, you're spending part of your time there like a true gentleman, mingling in the court and the best social circles. I've heard that strangers are welcomed with great hospitality at Prince———-’s, “where he provides good food, and Madame la Princesse serves plenty; but her meat is more than questionable or even spoiled”; which, in simple terms, means that it's not just tender, but rotten. If that's true, which I'm pretty sure it is, one might say to her in a certain sense, “juvenumque prodis, publics cura.”
Mr. Harte informs me that you are clothed in sumptuous apparel; a young fellow should be so; especially abroad, where fine clothes are so generally the fashion. Next to their being fine, they should be well made, and worn easily for a man is only the less genteel for a fine coat, if, in wearing it, he shows a regard for it, and is not as easy in it as if it were a plain one.
Mr. Harte told me that you're dressed in fancy clothes; a young guy should be, especially when traveling, where stylish attire is the norm. Besides being nice, they should fit well and be comfortable because a man only seems less refined in a nice coat if he shows that he cares too much about it and isn't as relaxed in it as he would be in a simple one.
I thank you for your drawing, which I am impatient to see, and which I shall hang up in a new gallery that I am building at Blackheath, and very fond of; but I am still more impatient for another copy, which I wonder I have not yet received, I mean the copy of your countenance. I believe, were that a whole length, it would still fall a good deal short of the dimensions of the drawing after Dominichino, which you say is about eight feet high; and I take you, as well as myself, to be of the family of the Piccolomini. Mr. Bathurst tells me that he thinks you rather taller than I am; if so, you may very possibly get up to five feet eight inches, which I would compound for, though I would wish you five feet ten. In truth, what do I not wish you, that has a tendency to perfection? I say a tendency only, for absolute perfection is not in human nature, so that it would be idle to wish it. But I am very willing to compound for your coming nearer to perfection than the generality of your contemporaries: without a compliment to you, I think you bid fair for that. Mr. Harte affirms (and if it were consistent with his character would, I believe, swear) that you have no vices of the heart; you have undoubtedly a stock of both ancient and modern learning, which I will venture to say nobody of your age has, and which must now daily increase, do what you will. What, then, do you want toward that practicable degree of perfection which I wish you? Nothing but the knowledge, the turn, and the manners of the world; I mean the ‘beau monde’. These it is impossible that you can yet have quite right; they are not given, they must be learned. But then, on the other hand, it is impossible not to acquire them, if one has a mind to them; for they are acquired insensibly, by keeping good company, if one has but the least attention to their characters and manners.
Thank you for your drawing, which I'm eager to see and will hang up in a new gallery I'm building at Blackheath, which I really love; but I'm even more eager for another copy, which I'm surprised I haven't received yet—your portrait. I believe if that were a full-length version, it would still fall short of the drawing after Dominichino, which you say is about eight feet tall. I see you, just like myself, as part of the Piccolomini family. Mr. Bathurst tells me he thinks you’re a bit taller than I am; if that's the case, you might reach five feet eight inches, which I would settle for, although I wish you'd be five feet ten. Honestly, what do I not wish for you that leans toward perfection? I say "leaning" only because absolute perfection isn't humanly possible, so it would be pointless to wish for it. But I’d be very happy if you come closer to perfection than most of your peers; without flattering you, I think you have great potential for that. Mr. Harte claims (and he would likely swear to it if it suited his character) that you have no moral faults; you definitely have a wealth of both ancient and modern knowledge, which I can confidently say no one your age possesses, and which is bound to grow every day, regardless of what you do. So, what do you need to reach that attainable level of perfection I wish for you? Just the knowledge, style, and manners of the world—I mean the ‘high society’. It’s impossible for you to have those completely right yet; they aren’t just given, they have to be learned. However, on the flip side, it's impossible not to acquire them if you truly desire them; they come naturally by being around good company, as long as you pay some attention to their characters and manners.
Every man becomes, to a certain degree, what the people he generally converses with are. He catches their air, their manners, and even their way of thinking. If he observes with attention, he will catch them soon, but if he does not, he will at long run contract them insensibly. I know nothing in the world but poetry that is not to be acquired by application and care. The sum total of this is a very comfortable one for you, as it plainly amounts to this in your favor, that you now want nothing but what even your pleasures, if they are liberal ones, will teach you. I congratulate both you and myself upon your being in such a situation, that, excepting your exercises, nothing is now wanting but pleasures to complete you. Take them, but (as I am sure you will) with people of the first fashion, whereever you are, and the business is done; your exercises at Paris, which I am sure you will attend to, will supple and fashion your body; and the company you will keep there will, with some degree of observation on your part, soon give you their air, address, manners, in short, ‘le ton de la bonne compagnie’. Let not these considerations, however, make you vain: they are only between you and me but as they are very comfortable ones, they may justly give you a manly assurance, a firmness, a steadiness, without which a man can neither be well-bred, or in any light appear to advantage, or really what he is. They may justly remove all, timidity, awkward bashfulness, low diffidence of one’s self, and mean abject complaisance to every or anybody’s opinion. La Bruyere says, very truly, ‘on ne vaut dans ce monde, que ce que l’on veut valoir’. It is a right principle to proceed upon in the world, taking care only to guard against the appearances and outward symptoms of vanity. Your whole then, you see, turns upon the company you keep for the future. I have laid you in variety of the best at Paris, where, at your arrival you will find a cargo of letters to very different sorts of people, as ‘beaux esprils, savants, et belles dames’. These, if you will frequent them, will form you, not only by their examples, advice, and admonitions in private, as I have desired them to do; and consequently add to what you have the only one thing now needful.
Every guy becomes, to some extent, like the people he usually talks to. He picks up their vibe, their behaviors, and even their way of thinking. If he pays attention, he'll catch on quickly, but if he doesn't, he'll eventually adopt them without realizing it. I can't think of anything in life except poetry that can't be learned through effort and care. The good news for you is that it basically means you only need what even your more sophisticated pleasures can teach you. I'm happy for both you and me that you're in a position where, aside from your training, all that's left to complete you is enjoyment. Embrace it, but (as I'm sure you will) with the best company wherever you are, and then the job is done; your training in Paris, which I know you'll focus on, will shape and refine your body; and the people you'll associate with there will, with a little observation on your part, quickly help you adopt their style, approach, and manners—in short, the tone of good company. Don't let these thoughts make you arrogant, though: they’re just between you and me, but since they’re comforting, they might rightly give you confidence, firmness, and steadiness, without which a man can’t be well-mannered, show himself favorably, or truly be who he is. They can rightly eliminate all timidity, awkward shyness, self-doubt, and the tendency to overly please everyone’s opinion. La Bruyère says, very truly, "In this world, you are worth only what you want to be worth." It’s a solid principle to live by, as long as you keep in mind not to show any signs of vanity. So, as you see, your success depends entirely on the company you choose in the future. I've set you up with a variety of the best people in Paris, where, upon your arrival, you'll find a bundle of letters to different kinds of folks, like charming intellects, scholars, and lovely ladies. These people, if you spend time with them, will shape you through their examples, advice, and private guidance as I’ve asked them to do; and they'll add the only thing you now truly need.
Pray tell me what Italian books you have read, and whether that language is now become familiar to you.
Please tell me what Italian books you've read and if you're now familiar with the language.
Read Ariosto and Tasso through, and then you will have read all the Italian poets who in my opinion are worth reading. In all events, when you get to Paris, take a good Italian master to read Italian with you three times a week; not only to keep what you have already, which you would otherwise forget, but also to perfect you in the rest. It is a great pleasure, as well as a great advantage, to be able to speak to people of all nations, and well, in their own language. Aim at perfection in everything, though in most things it is unattainable; however, they who aim at it, and persevere, will come much nearer it, than those whose laziness and despondency make them give it up as unattainable. ‘Magnis tamen excidit ausis’ is a degree of praise which will always attend a noble and shining temerity, and a much better sign in a young fellow, than ‘serpere humi, tutus nimium timidusque procellae’. For men as well as women:
Read Ariosto and Tasso completely, and then you’ll have covered all the Italian poets that I think are worth your time. When you get to Paris, hire a good Italian tutor to practice with you three times a week; this will not only help you retain what you’ve already learned, but also improve your skills further. It’s a great pleasure and a significant advantage to be able to communicate with people from all nations fluently in their own language. Strive for perfection in everything, even though it’s often out of reach; those who pursue it and keep at it will get much closer than those who let laziness and discouragement stop them from trying. “Magnis tamen excidit ausis” is a form of praise that will always accompany bold and shining courage, which is a much better sign in a young person than "serpere humi, tutus nimium timidusque procellae." For both men and women:
“————-born to be controlled,
Stoop to the forward and the bold.”
“————-made to be led,
Bow down to those who are daring and confident.”A man who sets out in the world with real timidity and diffidence has not an equal chance for it; he will be discouraged, put by, or trampled upon. But to succeed, a man, especially a young one, should have inward firmness, steadiness, and intrepidity, with exterior modesty and SEEMING diffidence. He must modestly, but resolutely, assert his own rights and privileges. ‘Suaviter in modo’, but ‘fortiter in re’. He should have an apparent frankness and openness, but with inward caution and closeness. All these things will come to you by frequenting and observing good company. And by good company, I mean that sort of company which is called good company by everybody of that place. When all this is over, we shall meet; and then we will talk over, tete-a-tete, the various little finishing strokes which conversation and, acquaintance occasionally suggest, and which cannot be methodically written.
A man who enters the world with genuine timidity and hesitation doesn’t stand a fair chance; he’ll be discouraged, overlooked, or walked all over. To succeed, a man, especially a young one, needs to have inner strength, steadiness, and courage, along with outward modesty and a show of humility. He should assert his own rights and privileges modestly but firmly. ‘Gentle in manner’, but ‘strong in action’. He should appear open and straightforward while being cautious and reserved inside. You’ll learn all of this by spending time with and observing good company. By good company, I mean the kind of company that everyone in that area recognizes as good. When all this is done, we’ll meet up, and then we can chat one-on-one about the various little touches that conversation and familiarity often suggest, which can’t be neatly written down.
Tell Mr. Harte that I have received his two letters of the 2d and 8th N. S., which, as soon as I have received a third, I will answer. Adieu, my dear! I find you will do.
Tell Mr. Harte that I've received his two letters from the 2nd and 8th N.S. As soon as I get a third, I'll respond. Goodbye, my dear! I see that you'll be alright.
LETTER CXV
LONDON, June 5, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received your picture, which I have long waited for with impatience: I wanted to see your countenance from whence I am very apt, as I believe most people are, to form some general opinion of the mind. If the painter has taken you as well as he has done Mr. Harte (for his picture is by far the most like I ever saw in my life), I draw good conclusions from your countenance, which has both spirit and finesse in it. In bulk you are pretty well increased since I saw you; if your height has not increased in proportion, I desire that you will make haste to, complete it. Seriously, I believe that your exercises at Paris will make you shoot up to a good size; your legs, by all accounts, seem to promise it. Dancing excepted, the wholesome part is the best part of those academical exercises. ‘Ils degraissent leur homme’.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I’ve received your picture, which I’ve been eagerly waiting for. I wanted to see your face because I tend to form a general opinion of a person’s mind based on their appearance, like I believe most people do. If the artist captured you as well as he did Mr. Harte (since that portrait is by far the most lifelike I’ve ever seen), I can draw positive conclusions from your expression, which shows both spirit and elegance. You seem to have grown quite a bit since I last saw you; if your height hasn’t increased in proportion, I hope you’ll hurry up and achieve that. Seriously, I believe the exercises you do in Paris will help you grow to a good height; your legs, from what I’ve heard, seem to suggest that. Aside from dancing, the physical aspect of those academic exercises is the best part. ‘Ils degraissent leur homme’.
‘A propos’ of exercises, I have prepared everything for your reception at Monsieur de la Gueriniere’s, and your room, etc., will be ready at your arrival. I am sure you must be sensible how much better it will be for you to be interne in the Academy for the first six or seven months at least, than to be ‘en hotel garni’, at some distance from it, and obliged to go to it every morning, let the weather be what it will, not to mention the loss of time too; besides, by living and boarding in the Academy, you will make an acquaintance with half the young fellows of fashion at Paris; and in a very little while be looked upon as one of them in all French companies: an advantage that has never yet happened to any one Englishman that I have known. I am sure you do not suppose that the difference of the expense, which is but a trifle, has any weight with me in this resolution. You have the French language so perfectly, and you will acquire the French ‘tournure’ so soon, that I do not know anybody likely to pass their time so well at Paris as yourself. Our young countrymen have generally too little French, and too bad address, either to present themselves, or be well received in the best French companies; and, as a proof of it, there is no one instance of an Englishman’s having ever been suspected of a gallantry with a French woman of condition, though every French woman of condition is more than suspected of having a gallantry. But they take up with the disgraceful and dangerous commerce of prostitutes, actresses, dancing-women, and that sort of trash; though, if they had common address, better achievements would be extremely easy. ‘Un arrangement’, which is in plain English a gallantry, is, at Paris, as necessary a part of a woman of fashion’s establishment, as her house, stable, coach, etc. A young fellow must therefore be a very awkward one, to be reduced to, or of a very singular taste, to prefer drabs and danger to a commerce (in the course of the world not disgraceful) with a woman of health, education, and rank. Nothing sinks a young man into low company, both of women and men, so surely as timidity and diffidence of himself. If he thinks that he shall not, he may depend upon it he will not please. But with proper endeavors to please, and a degree of persuasion that he shall, it is almost certain that he will. How many people does one meet with everywhere, who, with very moderate parts, and very little knowledge, push themselves pretty far, simply by being sanguine, enterprising, and persevering? They will take no denial from man or woman; difficulties do not discourage them; repulsed twice or thrice, they rally, they charge again, and nine times in ten prevail at last. The same means will much sooner, and, more certainly, attain the same ends, with your parts and knowledge. You have a fund to be sanguine upon, and good forces to rally. In business (talents supposed) nothing is more effectual or successful, than a good, though concealed opinion of one’s self, a firm resolution, and an unwearied perseverance. None but madmen attempt impossibilities; and whatever is possible, is one way or another to be brought about. If one method fails, try another, and suit your methods to the characters you have to do with. At the treaty of the Pyrenees, which Cardinal Mazarin and Don Louis de Haro concluded, ‘dans l’Isle des Faisans’, the latter carried some very important points by his constant and cool perseverance.
Regarding exercises, I’ve arranged everything for your stay at Monsieur de la Gueriniere's, and your room will be ready when you arrive. You must realize how much better it will be for you to be living in the Academy for the first six or seven months, rather than staying at a hotel some distance away and having to travel every morning, no matter the weather, not to mention the time wasted; plus, by living and dining at the Academy, you’ll get to know half the fashionable young people in Paris and be regarded as one of them in no time at all in French social circles—an advantage that I’ve never seen happen for any Englishman I know. I’m sure you don’t think that the small difference in cost matters to me in this decision. You speak French so well, and you’ll pick up the French style so quickly that I doubt anyone will enjoy their time in Paris as much as you will. Our young countrymen usually have too little French and poor social skills to present themselves well or be accepted into the best French circles; as evidence of this, there’s no record of an Englishman ever being suspected of having an affair with a high-status French woman, while every high-status French woman is more than vaguely suspected of having affairs. Yet, they opt for the disgraceful and risky company of prostitutes, actresses, and dancers; if they had even basic social skills, they would have much better experiences. A “gallantry,” which is what we’d call an affair in plain English, is as essential to a high-status woman’s life in Paris as her home, horses, and carriages, etc. A young man would have to be very awkward or have a very peculiar taste to choose low-class women and risk over a respectable relationship with a woman of health, education, and status. Nothing pulls a young man down into low company, both with women and men, as much as shyness and a lack of self-confidence. If he thinks he won’t be liked, he can be sure he won’t be. But with the right effort to please and some confidence that he will, it’s almost guaranteed that he will succeed. How many people do you meet every day who, with just modest abilities and little knowledge, push themselves quite far simply by being optimistic, bold, and persistent? They won’t take no for an answer; challenges don’t deter them; if they get turned down a couple of times, they regroup, charge again, and most of the time they end up succeeding. The same strategies will achieve the same results much quicker and more certainly with your skills and knowledge. You have a source of optimism to work from and good strengths to draw on. In business (assuming talent), nothing is more effective or successful than a good, even if hidden, self-opinion, a firm resolution, and tireless perseverance. Only fools attempt the impossible; and whatever is possible can be achieved one way or another. If one approach doesn’t work, try another, and adapt your methods to the people you’re dealing with. At the Treaty of the Pyrenees, which Cardinal Mazarin and Don Luis de Haro concluded “in the Isle of the Fishes,” the latter secured some very important points through his constant and cool perseverance.
The Cardinal had all the Italian vivacity and impatience; Don Louis all the Spanish phlegm and tenaciousness. The point which the Cardinal had most at heart was, to hinder the re-establishment of the Prince of Conde, his implacable enemy; but he was in haste to conclude, and impatient to return to Court, where absence is always dangerous. Don Louis observed this, and never failed at every conference to bring the affair of the Prince of Conde upon the tapis. The Cardinal for some time refused even to treat upon it. Don Louis, with the same ‘sang froid’, as constantly persisted, till he at last prevailed: contrary to the intentions and the interest both of the Cardinal and of his Court. Sense must distinguish between what is impossible, and what is only difficult; and spirit and perseverance will get the better of the latter. Every man is to be had one way or another, and every woman almost any way. I must not omit one thing, which is previously necessary to this, and, indeed, to everything else; which is attention, a flexibility of attention; never to be wholly engrossed by any past or future object, but instantly directed to the present one, be it what it will. An absent man can make but few observations; and those will be disjointed and imperfect ones, as half the circumstance must necessarily escape him. He can pursue nothing steadily, because his absences make him lose his way. They are very disagreeable, and hardly to be tolerated in old age; but in youth they cannot be forgiven. If you find that you have the least tendency to them, pray watch yourself very carefully, and you may prevent them now; but if you let them grow into habit, you will find it very difficult to cure them hereafter, and a worse distemper I do not know.
The Cardinal had all the Italian energy and impatience; Don Louis had all the Spanish calmness and stubbornness. The thing that mattered most to the Cardinal was stopping the return of the Prince of Conde, his relentless enemy; however, he was eager to finish things up and anxious to get back to court, where being away is always risky. Don Louis noticed this and made sure to bring up the Prince of Conde's situation at every meeting. For a while, the Cardinal refused even to discuss it. Don Louis, with the same coolness, kept pushing until he finally succeeded, contrary to the plans and interests of both the Cardinal and his court. We need to distinguish between what is impossible and what is just difficult; determination and persistence will overcome the latter. Everyone can be swayed in one way or another, and almost every woman can be influenced in any way. I must stress one crucial point that is essential to this, and indeed to everything else: attention, specifically a flexible attention; never getting fully caught up in past or future concerns, but immediately focusing on the present, whatever it may be. An absent-minded person can make few observations, and those will be disjointed and incomplete, as they inevitably miss half the details. They can't pursue anything steadily because their distractions cause them to lose track. These distractions are very unpleasant and nearly intolerable in old age; but in youth, they are unforgivable. If you notice even a slight tendency toward them, please pay close attention to yourself, and you may be able to stop them now; but if you let them become a habit, you’ll find it very hard to break them later, and I can’t think of a worse affliction.
I heard with great satisfaction the other day, from one who has been lately at Rome, that nobody was better received in the best companies than yourself. The same thing, I dare say, will happen to you at Paris; where they are particularly kind to all strangers, who will be civil to them, and show a desire of pleasing. But they must be flattered a little, not only by words, but by a seeming preference given to their country, their manners, and their customs; which is but a very small price to pay for a very good reception. Were I in Africa, I would pay it to a negro for his goodwill. Adieu.
I recently heard from someone who just came back from Rome that you were received exceptionally well in the best circles. I’m sure the same will happen for you in Paris, where they’re especially warm to all strangers who are polite and eager to please. However, you’ll need to flatter them a bit, not just with words, but by showing a preference for their country, their customs, and their way of life; which is a small price to pay for a great welcome. If I were in Africa, I would show the same appreciation for a local’s goodwill. Goodbye.
LETTER CXVI
LONDON, June 11, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: The President Montesquieu (whom you will be acquainted with at Paris), after having laid down in his book, ‘De l’Esprit des Lois’, the nature and principles of the three different kinds of government, viz, the democratical, the monarchical, and the despotic, treats of the education necessary for each respective form. His chapter upon the education proper for the monarchical I thought worth transcribing and sending to you. You will observe that the monarchy which he has in his eye is France:—
MY DEAR FRIEND: President Montesquieu (whom you'll meet in Paris) outlines the nature and principles of the three types of government—democratic, monarchical, and despotic—in his book 'De l’Esprit des Lois.' He discusses the education needed for each type. I thought his chapter on the education suitable for the monarchical was worth copying and sharing with you. You'll notice that the monarchy he refers to is France:—
“In monarchies, the principal branch of education is not taught in colleges or academies. It commences, in some measure, at our setting out in the world; for this is the school of what we call honor, that universal preceptor, which ought everywhere to be our guide.
“In monarchies, the main part of education isn’t taught in colleges or academies. It starts, to some extent, when we first enter the world; for this is the school of what we call honor, that universal teacher, which should always be our guide.”
“Here it is that we constantly hear three rules or maxims, viz: That we should have a certain nobleness in our virtues, a kind of frankness in our morals, and a particular politeness in our behavior.
“Here we often hear three rules or maxims: that we should have a certain nobility in our virtues, a kind of honesty in our morals, and a particular politeness in our behavior."
“The virtues we are here taught, are less what we owe to others, than to ourselves; they are not so much what draws us toward society, as what distinguishes us from our fellow-citizens.
“The virtues we are taught here are less about our obligations to others and more about our responsibilities to ourselves; they are not just what connects us to society, but what sets us apart from our fellow citizens.”
“Here the actions of men are judged, not as virtuous, but as shining; not as just, but as great; not as reasonable, but as extraordinary.
“Here, people’s actions are evaluated, not as virtuous, but as impressive; not as fair, but as remarkable; not as sensible, but as exceptional.”
“When honor here meets with anything noble in our actions, it is either a judge that approves them, or a sophister by whom they are excused.
“When honor here combines with anything commendable in our actions, it is either a judge that validates them or a trickster who justifies them.”
“It allows of gallantry, when united with the idea of sensible affection, or with that of conquest; this is the reason why we never meet with so strict a purity of morals in monarchies as in republican governments.
“It allows for chivalry when combined with the concept of genuine affection or the idea of conquest; this is why we never encounter such strict moral purity in monarchies as we do in republican governments.
“It allows of cunning and craft, when joined with the notion of greatness of soul or importance of affairs; as, for instance, in politics, with whose finenesses it is far from being offended.
“It allows for cleverness and skill, especially when combined with the idea of noble character or significant matters; for example, in politics, where it is certainly not offended by its complexities."
“It does not forbid adulation, but when separate from the idea of a large fortune, and connected only with the sense of our mean condition.
“It doesn’t prevent admiration, but when it’s separate from the idea of a large fortune and linked only to the awareness of our humble situation."
“With regard to morals, I have observed, that the education of monarchies ought to admit of a certain frankness and open carriage. Truth, therefore, in conversation, is here a necessary point. But is it for the sake of truth. By no means. Truth is requisite only, because a person habituated to veracity has an air of boldness and freedom. And, indeed, a man of this stamp seems to lay a stress only on the things themselves, not on the manner in which they are received.
“With regard to morals, I have noticed that the education of monarchies should involve a certain level of honesty and openness. Therefore, truth in conversation is essential. But is it solely for the sake of truth? Not at all. Truth is necessary only because a person used to being truthful carries a sense of confidence and freedom. In fact, a person like this appears to focus solely on the things themselves, not on how they are received.”
“Hence it is, that in proportion as this kind of frankness is commended, that of the common people is despised, which has nothing but truth and simplicity for its object.
“Therefore, as this kind of honesty is praised, the straightforwardness of ordinary people is looked down upon, even though it aims for nothing but truth and simplicity.”
“In fine, the education of monarchies requires a certain politeness of behavior. Man, a sociable animal, is formed to please in society; and a person that would break through the rules of decency, so as to shock those he conversed with, would lose the public esteem, and become incapable of doing any good.
“In short, the education of monarchies needs a certain level of politeness. Humans, being social creatures, are made to please in society; and someone who disregards the rules of decency to the point of shocking those they interact with would lose public respect and become unable to do any good.”
“But politeness, generally speaking, does not derive its original from so pure a source. It arises from a desire of distinguishing ourselves. It is pride that renders us polite; we are flattered with being taken notice of for a behavior that shows we are not of a mean condition, and that we have not been bred up with those who in all ages are considered as the scum of the people.
“But politeness, in general, doesn’t come from such a pure place. It comes from a desire to stand out. It’s pride that makes us polite; we feel good when others notice us for our behavior, which shows that we’re not from a low background and that we haven’t been raised with those who are considered the lowest of society throughout history.”
“Politeness, in monarchies, is naturalized at court. One man excessively great renders everybody else little. Hence that regard which is paid to our fellow-subjects; hence that politeness, equally pleasing to those by whom, as to those toward whom, it is practiced; because it gives people to understand that a person actually belongs, or at least deserves to belong, to the court.
“Politeness in monarchies is ingrained at court. When one person is extremely powerful, it diminishes everyone else. This is why we show respect to our fellow citizens; this is why politeness is enjoyable for both those who practice it and those who receive it, as it signals that someone truly belongs, or at least deserves to belong, to the court.”
“A court air consists in quitting a real for a borrowed greatness. The latter pleases the courtier more than the former. It inspires him with a certain disdainful modesty, which shows itself externally, but whose pride insensibly diminishes in proportion to his distance from the source of this greatness.
“A court atmosphere involves leaving behind something genuine for something borrowed and grand. The latter appeals to the courtier more than the former. It gives him a kind of haughty modesty, which is visible on the outside, but his pride gradually lessens the farther he is from the source of this grandeur.”
“At court we find a delicacy of taste in everything; a delicacy arising from the constant use of the superfluities of life; from the variety, and especially the satiety of pleasures; from the multiplicity and even confusion of fancies, which, if they are not agreeable, are sure of being well received.
“At court, everything has a certain refinement; this refinement comes from the constant indulgence in life's excesses, from the variety and especially the overwhelming nature of pleasures, and from the abundance and even chaos of ideas, which, even if they aren't enjoyable, are sure to be welcomed.”
“These are the things which properly fall within the province of education, in order to form what we call a man of honor, a man possessed of all the qualities and virtues requisite in this kind of government.
“These are the things that properly belong in the realm of education to shape what we call a man of honor, a man who has all the qualities and virtues necessary for this type of governance.
“Here it is that honor interferes with everything, mixing even with people’s manner of thinking, and directing their very principles.
“Here, honor gets in the way of everything, even influencing how people think and shaping their very principles."
“To this whimsical honor it is owing that the virtues are only just what it pleases; it adds rules of its own invention to everything prescribed to us; it extends or limits our duties according to its own fancy, whether they proceed from religion, politics, or morality.
“To this playful honor, it owes that virtues are only just what it chooses; it adds its own invented rules to everything expected of us; it expands or restricts our responsibilities based on its whims, whether they come from religion, politics, or morality."
“There is nothing so strongly inculcated in monarchies, by the laws, by religion, and honor, as submission to the Prince’s will, but this very honor tells us, that the Prince never ought to command a dishonorable action, because this would render us incapable of serving him.
“There is nothing so deeply ingrained in monarchies, through the laws, religion, and honor, as submission to the Prince’s will. However, this very honor reminds us that the Prince should never demand an dishonorable action, as this would make us unable to serve him.”
“Crillon refused to assassinate the Duke of Guise, but offered to fight him. After the massacre of St. Bartholomew, Charles IX., having sent orders to the governors in the several provinces for the Huguenots to be murdered, Viscount Dorte, who commanded at Bayonne, wrote thus to the King: ‘Sire, Among the inhabitants of this town, and your Majesty’s troops, I could not find so much as one executioner; they are honest citizens and brave soldiers. We jointly, therefore, beseech your Majesty to command our arms and lives in things that are practicable.’ This great and generous soul looked upon a base action as a thing impossible.
Crillon refused to assassinate the Duke of Guise but offered to fight him instead. After the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre, Charles IX sent orders to the governors in various provinces to execute the Huguenots. Viscount Dorte, who commanded in Bayonne, wrote to the King: “Sire, among the people in this town and your Majesty’s troops, I couldn’t find even one executioner; they are honest citizens and brave soldiers. Therefore, we collectively urge your Majesty to assign us tasks that are feasible.” This great and noble person saw a disgraceful act as something impossible.
“There is nothing that honor more strongly recommends to the nobility, than to serve their Prince in a military capacity. And indeed this is their favorite profession, because its dangers, its success, and even its miscarriages, are the road to grandeur. Yet this very law, of its own making, honor chooses to explain; and in case of any affront, it requires or permits us to retire.
“There’s nothing that honor suggests more strongly to the nobility than serving their Prince in the military. And truly, this is their preferred profession because its dangers, successes, and even failures are paths to greatness. Yet this very law, created by themselves, is what honor chooses to clarify; and in the event of any offense, it requires or allows us to step back.”
“It insists also, that we should be at liberty either to seek or to reject employments; a liberty which it prefers even to an ample fortune.
“It also insists that we should have the freedom to either pursue or turn down jobs; a freedom it values even more than a great fortune."
“Honor, therefore, has its supreme laws, to which education is obliged to conform. The chief of these are, that we are permitted to set a value upon our fortune, but are absolutely forbidden to set any upon our lives.
“Honor, then, has its highest principles, which education must follow. The main ones are that we can place a value on our wealth, but we are completely forbidden from valuing our lives.”
“The second is, that when we are raised to a post or preferment, we should never do or permit anything which may seem to imply that we look upon ourselves as inferior to the rank we hold.
“The second is that when we are promoted to a position of responsibility, we should never do or allow anything that might suggest we view ourselves as lesser than our rank.”
“The third is, that those things which honor forbids are more rigorously forbidden, when the laws do not concur in the prohibition; and those it commands are more strongly insisted upon, when they happen not to be commanded by law.”
“The third is that things which are forbidden by honor are even more strictly prohibited when the laws don’t agree with that prohibition; and those things that honor commands are more strongly emphasized when they are not required by law.”
Though our government differs considerably from the French, inasmuch as we have fixed laws and constitutional barriers for the security of our liberties and properties, yet the President’s observations hold pretty near as true in England as in France. Though monarchies may differ a good deal, kings differ very little. Those who are absolute desire to continue so, and those who are not, endeavor to become so; hence the same maxims and manners almost in all courts: voluptuousness and profusion encouraged, the one to sink the people into indolence, the other into poverty—consequently into dependence. The court is called the world here as well as at Paris; and nothing more is meant by saying that a man knows the world, than that he knows courts. In all courts you must expect to meet with connections without friendship, enmities without hatred, honor without virtue, appearances saved, and realities sacrificed; good manners with bad morals; and all vice and virtues so disguised, that whoever has only reasoned upon both would know neither when he first met them at court. It is well that you should know the map of that country, that when you come to travel in it, you may do it with greater safety.
Although our government is quite different from the French, since we have established laws and constitutional protections for our freedoms and property, the President’s observations are almost just as applicable in England as they are in France. While monarchies can vary widely, kings are often quite similar. Those who have absolute power want to keep it, and those who don’t strive to gain it; this leads to similar principles and behaviors in most courts: indulgence and wastefulness are promoted, one to lull the people into laziness and the other into poverty—ultimately leading to dependence. The court is referred to as the world here, just like in Paris; and when people say someone knows the world, they really mean that person knows the courts. In all courts, you should expect to encounter connections without true friendship, rivalries without real hatred, honor without virtue, appearances kept up, and realities let go; good manners paired with bad morals; and all vices and virtues so masked that anyone who has only reasoned about both might not recognize either when they first encounter them at court. It’s important for you to understand the landscape of that realm, so that when you navigate it, you can do so more safely.
From all this you will of yourself draw this obvious conclusion: That you are in truth but now going to the great and important school, the world; to which Westminster and Leipsig were only the little preparatory schools, as Marylebone, Windsor, etc., are to them. What you have already acquired will only place you in the second form of this new school, instead of the first. But if you intend, as I suppose you do, to get into the shell, you have very different things to learn from Latin and Greek: and which require much more sagacity and attention than those two dead languages; the language of pure and simple nature; the language of nature variously modified and corrupted by passions, prejudices, and habits; the language of simulation and dissimulation: very hard, but very necessary to decipher. Homer has not half so many, nor so difficult dialects, as the great book of the school you are now going to. Observe, therefore, progressively, and with the greatest attention, what the best scholars in the form immediately above you do, and so on, until you get into the shell yourself. Adieu.
From all this, you'll naturally come to this clear conclusion: You're really just heading to the significant and essential school, the world; where Westminster and Leipzig were just the small preparatory schools, similar to how Marylebone, Windsor, etc., relate to them. What you've already learned will simply place you in the second level of this new school instead of the first. But if you plan, as I assume you do, to delve deeper, you have much more to learn than just Latin and Greek: things that require far more insight and focus than those two dead languages; the language of pure and simple nature; the language of nature, altered and tainted by emotions, biases, and habits; the language of pretense and deception: incredibly tough, but absolutely essential to understand. Homer doesn't have nearly as many, nor as challenging dialects, as the major book of the school you’re about to enter. So, pay close attention to what the best students in the level right above you are doing, and keep observing until you reach that level yourself. Goodbye.
Pray tell Mr. Harte that I have received his letter of the 27th May, N. S., and that I advise him never to take the English newswriters literally, who never yet inserted any one thing quite right. I have both his patent and his mandamus, in both which he is Walter, let the newspapers call him what they please.
Please let Mr. Harte know that I got his letter from May 27, N.S., and that I suggest he never takes the English news writers literally, since they've never reported anything accurately. I have both his patent and his mandamus, in which he is Walter, no matter what the newspapers call him.
LETTER CXVII
LONDON, July 9, O. S. 1750.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I should not deserve that appellation in return from you, if I did not freely and explicitly inform you of every corrigible defect which I may either hear of, suspect, or at any time discover in you. Those who, in the common course of the world, will call themselves your friends; or whom, according to the common notions of friendship, you may possibly think such, will never tell you of your faults, still less of your weaknesses. But, on the contrary, more desirous to make you their friend, than to prove themselves yours, they will flatter both, and, in truth, not be sorry for either. Interiorly, most people enjoy the inferiority of their best friends. The useful and essential part of friendship, to you, is reserved singly for Mr. Harte and myself: our relations to you stand pure and unsuspected of all private views. In whatever we say to you, we can have no interest but yours. We are therefore authorized to represent, advise, and remonstrate; and your reason must tell you that you ought to attend to and believe us.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I wouldn’t deserve that title from you if I didn’t openly and honestly point out every flaw I might hear about, suspect, or discover in you. Those who, in everyday life, call themselves your friends, or whom you might think are your friends based on common ideas of friendship, will never mention your faults, let alone your weaknesses. Instead, they are more interested in getting you to be their friend than in proving themselves to be yours; they will flatter both sides and aren’t truly upset about either. Deep down, most people take pleasure in the shortcomings of their closest friends. The real and necessary part of friendship for you is reserved solely for Mr. Harte and me: our relationship with you is clear and free from any hidden agendas. In everything we say to you, our only concern is your well-being. We therefore have the right to advise and caution you, and your reason should tell you that you need to listen to and trust us.
I am credibly informed, that there is still a considerable hitch or hobble in your enunciation; and that when you speak fast you sometimes speak unintelligibly. I have formerly and frequently laid my thoughts before you so fully upon this subject, that I can say nothing new upon it now. I must therefore only repeat, that your whole depends upon it. Your trade is to speak well, both in public and in private. The manner of your speaking is full as important as the matter, as more people have ears to be tickled, than understandings to judge. Be your productions ever so good, they will be of no use, if you stifle and strangle them in their birth. The best compositions of Corelli, if ill executed and played out of tune, instead of touching, as they do when well performed, would only excite the indignation of the hearer’s, when murdered by an unskillful performer. But to murder your own productions, and that ‘coram Populo’, is a MEDEAN CRUELTY, which Horace absolutely forbids. Remember of what importance Demosthenes, and one of the Gracchi, thought ENUNCIATION; and read what stress Cicero and Quintilian lay upon it; even the herb-women at Athens were correct judges of it. Oratory, with all its graces, that of enunciation in particular, is full as necessary in our government as it ever was in Greece or Rome. No man can make a fortune or a figure in this country, without speaking, and speaking well in public. If you will persuade, you must first please; and if you will please, you must tune your voice to harmony, you must articulate every syllable distinctly, your emphasis and cadences must be strongly and properly marked; and the whole together must be graceful and engaging: If you do not speak in that manner, you had much better not speak at all. All the learning you have, or ever can have, is not worth one groat without it. It may be a comfort and an amusement to you in your closet, but can be of no use to you in the world. Let me conjure you, therefore, to make this your only object, till you have absolutely conquered it, for that is in your power; think of nothing else, read and speak for nothing else. Read aloud, though alone, and read articulately and distinctly, as if you were reading in public, and on the most important occasion. Recite pieces of eloquence, declaim scenes of tragedies to Mr. Harte, as if he were a numerous audience. If there is any particular consonant which you have a difficulty in articulating, as I think you had with the R, utter it millions and millions of times, till you have uttered it right. Never speak quick, till you have first learned to speak well. In short, lay aside every book, and every thought, that does not directly tend to this great object, absolutely decisive of your future fortune and figure.
I’ve been reliably told that there’s still a significant issue with your pronunciation, and that when you talk quickly, you sometimes become hard to understand. I've discussed this topic with you before so thoroughly that I have nothing new to add. I can only emphasize again that your entire future depends on it. Your job is to communicate effectively, both in public and private settings. How you speak is just as crucial as what you say, since more people are inclined to be entertained than to critically analyze. No matter how great your ideas are, they won't matter if you don’t express them properly. Even the best compositions from Corelli, if poorly performed and out of tune, will fail to move the audience and instead provoke their annoyance when executed by an unskilled player. But to ruin your own creations, especially in front of others, is a cruel act that Horace warns against. Remember how important enunciation was to Demosthenes and one of the Gracchi, and consider the emphasis Cicero and Quintilian placed on it; even the herb-sellers in Athens were discerning in this regard. Oratory, with all its charms, especially enunciation, is just as vital in our government as it ever was in Greece or Rome. No one can achieve success or recognition in this country without speaking well in public. If you want to persuade, you first must please; if you want to please, you need to harmonize your voice, articulate every syllable clearly, emphasize and mark your rhythm strongly and appropriately, and deliver it all gracefully and engagingly. If you can't speak like that, it's better to stay silent. All the knowledge you have or can acquire isn’t worth anything without it. It may comfort and entertain you in solitude, but it has no practical value in the real world. So, I urge you to make this your primary focus until you truly master it, because it’s within your control; ignore everything else and read and speak solely for this goal. Read out loud, even if alone, and do so articulately and distinctly, as if you were in a public setting on an important occasion. Practice eloquent pieces and dramatic scenes in front of Mr. Harte, as though he were a large audience. If there’s a specific consonant you struggle with, like the R, practice it countless times until you get it right. Don’t speak quickly until you’ve first learned to speak well. In short, set aside any books or thoughts that don’t directly contribute to this vital objective, which will determine your future success and status.
The next thing necessary in your destination, is writing correctly, elegantly, and in a good hand too; in which three particulars, I am sorry to tell you, that you hitherto fail. Your handwriting is a very bad one, and would make a scurvy figure in an office-book of letters, or even in a lady’s pocket-book. But that fault is easily cured by care, since every man, who has the use of his eyes and of his right hand, can write whatever hand he pleases. As to the correctness and elegance of your writing, attention to grammar does the one, and to the best authors the other. In your letter to me of the 27th June, N. S., you omitted the date of the place, so that I only conjectured from the contents that you were at Rome.
The next thing you need for your destination is to write correctly, elegantly, and in a good handwriting; unfortunately, I must say that you haven't been doing well in these three areas. Your handwriting is quite poor and would look terrible in an office letter or even in a lady’s notebook. However, this issue can be easily fixed with some effort since anyone who can see and use their right hand can write in whatever style they choose. For the correctness and elegance of your writing, paying attention to grammar helps with the first, while reading the best authors helps with the second. In your letter to me dated June 27, N. S., you left out the city you were writing from, so I only guessed from the contents that you were in Rome.
Thus I have, with the truth and freedom of the tenderest affection, told you all your defects, at least all that I know or have heard of. Thank God, they are all very curable; they must be cured, and I am sure, you will cure them. That once done, nothing remains for you to acquire, or for me to wish you, but the turn, the manners, the address, and the GRACES, of the polite world; which experience, observation, and good company; will insensibly give you. Few people at your age have read, seen, and known, so much as you have; and consequently few are so near as yourself to what I call perfection, by which I only, mean being very near as well as the best. Far, therefore, from being discouraged by what you still want, what you already have should encourage you to attempt, and convince you that by attempting you will inevitably obtain it. The difficulties which you have surmounted were much greater than any you have now to encounter. Till very lately, your way has been only through thorns and briars; the few that now remain are mixed with roses. Pleasure is now the principal remaining part of your education. It will soften and polish your manners; it will make you pursue and at last overtake the GRACES. Pleasure is necessarily reciprocal; no one feels, who does not at the same time give it. To be pleased one must please. What pleases you in others, will in general please them in you. Paris is indisputably the seat of the GRACES; they will even court you, if you are not too coy. Frequent and observe the best companies there, and you will soon be naturalized among them; you will soon find how particularly attentive they are to the correctness and elegance of their language, and to the graces of their enunciation: they would even call the understanding of a man in question, who should neglect or not know the infinite advantages arising from them. ‘Narrer, reciter, declamer bien’, are serious studies among them, and well deserve to be so everywhere. The conversations, even among the women, frequently turn upon the elegancies and minutest delicacies of the French language. An ‘enjouement’, a gallant turn, prevails in all their companies, to women, with whom they neither are, nor pretend to be, in love; but should you (as may very possibly happen) fall really in love there with some woman of fashion and sense (for I do not suppose you capable of falling in love with a strumpet), and that your rival, without half your parts or knowledge, should get the better of you, merely by dint of manners, ‘enjouement, badinage’, etc., how would you regret not having sufficiently attended to those accomplishments which you despised as superficial and trifling, but which you would then find of real consequence in the course of the world! And men, as well as women, are taken by those external graces. Shut up your books, then, now as a business, and open them only as a pleasure; but let the great book of the world be your serious study; read it over and over, get it by heart, adopt its style, and make it your own.
So, with truth and the freedom of my deepest affection, I’ve shared all your flaws, or at least all the ones I know about. Thankfully, they’re all very fixable; they need to be fixed, and I’m sure you’ll do it. Once that’s done, there’s nothing left for you to gain, or for me to wish for you, except the ease, manners, charm, and GRACES of the sophisticated world, which experience, observation, and good company will gradually give you. Very few people your age have read, seen, and learned as much as you have; consequently, few are as close as you are to what I consider perfection, which just means being very close to being the best. So, instead of being discouraged by what you still lack, let what you already have motivate you to try, and convince you that by trying, you will definitely achieve it. The challenges you’ve already overcome were much tougher than any you’re facing now. Until very recently, your path has been filled with thorns and difficulties; the few obstacles that remain are mixed with roses. Enjoyment is now the main part of your education. It will smooth and refine your manners; it will lead you to pursue and eventually achieve the GRACES. Enjoyment must be mutual; you can’t really feel it unless you also give it. To be pleased, you need to please. What you find pleasing in others will generally be pleasing to them in you. Paris is definitely the center of the GRACES; they will even seek you out if you’re not too reserved. Spend time with and observe the best crowds there, and you will soon fit in among them; you will quickly notice how attentive they are to the correctness and elegance of their language, and to the graces of their speech: they would even question a man’s understanding if he neglects or doesn’t recognize the countless benefits that come from them. “Narrer, reciter, declamer bien” are serious studies among them and deserve to be taken seriously everywhere. Conversations, even among women, often focus on the nuances and finer points of the French language. A playful charm prevails in all their gatherings, particularly towards women, with whom they are neither in love nor pretend to be. However, should you find yourself really falling for a stylish and sensible woman there (because I can’t imagine you falling for a less respectable one), and your rival, lacking half your talents or knowledge, outshines you simply through his manners, charm, and wit, how much would you regret not paying enough attention to those skills you dismissed as superficial or trivial, only to find that they actually matter in the real world? Both men and women are swayed by those outward graces. So, put your books away for business now, and open them only for enjoyment; let the great book of the world be your main study; read it repeatedly, memorize it, adopt its style, and make it your own.
When I cast up your account as it now stands, I rejoice to see the balance so much in your favor; and that the items per contra are so few, and of such a nature, that they may be very easily cancelled. By way of debtor and creditor, it stands thus:
When I review your account as it currently stands, I'm glad to see the balance so much in your favor; and that the items on the other side are so few, and of such a kind, that they can be easily settled. In terms of debits and credits, it looks like this:
Creditor. By French Debtor. To English
German Enunciation
Italian Manners
Latin
Greek
Logic
Ethics
History
|Naturae
Jus |Gentium
|Publicum
Creditor. By French Debtor. To English
German Enunciation
Italian Manners
Latin
Greek
Logic
Ethics
History
|Naturae
Jus |Gentium
|Publicum This, my dear friend, is a very true account; and a very encouraging one for you. A man who owes so little can clear it off in a very little time, and, if he is a prudent man, will; whereas a man who, by long negligence, owes a great deal, despairs of ever being able to pay; and therefore never looks into his account at all.
This, my dear friend, is a true story; and it’s very encouraging for you. A man who owes little can pay it off quickly, and if he’s smart about it, he will; while a man who, due to neglect, owes a lot feels hopeless about ever being able to pay it off, and so he never checks his account at all.
When you go to Genoa, pray observe carefully all the environs of it, and view them with somebody who can tell you all the situations and operations of the Austrian army, during that famous siege, if it deserves to be called one; for in reality the town never was besieged, nor had the Austrians any one thing necessary for a siege. If Marquis Centurioni, who was last winter in England, should happen to be there, go to him with my compliments, and he will show you all imaginable civilities.
When you visit Genoa, make sure to pay attention to the surroundings and check them out with someone who can explain all the movements and actions of the Austrian army during that well-known siege, if it can even be considered one; since, in truth, the town was never actually besieged, nor did the Austrians have any of the essentials for a siege. If Marquis Centurioni, who was in England last winter, happens to be there, please extend my regards to him; he will treat you with every possible courtesy.
I could have sent you some letters to Florence, but that I knew Mr. Mann would be of more use to you than all of them. Pray make him my compliments. Cultivate your Italian, while you are at Florence, where it is spoken in its utmost purity, but ill pronounced.
I could have sent you some letters to Florence, but I thought Mr. Mann would be more helpful to you than all of them. Please give him my regards. Make sure to practice your Italian while you’re in Florence, where it’s spoken in its purest form, even though it’s not pronounced well.
Pray save me the seed of some of the best melons you eat, and put it up dry in paper. You need not send it me; but Mr. Harte will bring it in his pocket when he comes over. I should likewise be glad of some cuttings of the best figs, especially la Pica gentile and the Maltese; but as this is not the season for them, Mr. Mann will, I dare say, undertake that commission, and send them to me at the proper time by Leghorn. Adieu. Endeavor to please others, and divert yourself as much as ever you can, in ‘honnete et galant homme’.
Please save the seeds from some of the best melons you eat and dry them in paper. You don’t need to send them to me; Mr. Harte can bring them in his pocket when he comes over. I would also appreciate some cuttings of the best figs, especially la Pica gentile and the Maltese; but since it’s not the season for them, I’m sure Mr. Mann will take care of that and send them to me at the right time via Leghorn. Goodbye. Try to please others and enjoy yourself as much as you can, as a 'gentleman of integrity and charm.'
P. S. I send you the inclosed to deliver to Lord Rochford, upon your arrival at Turin.
P.S. I'm sending you the enclosed to give to Lord Rochford when you arrive in Turin.
LETTER CXVIII.
LONDON, August 6, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: Since your letter from Sienna, which gave me a very imperfect account both of your illness and your recovery, I have not received one word either from you or Mr. Harte. I impute this to the carelessness of the post simply: and the great distance between us at present exposes our letters to those accidents. But when you come to Paris, from whence the letters arrive here very regularly, I shall insist upon you writing to me constantly once a week; and that upon the same day, for instance, every Thursday, that I may know by what mail to expect your letter. I shall also require you to be more minute in your account of yourself than you have hitherto been, or than I have required, because of the informations which I receive from time to time from Mr. Harte. At Paris you will be out of your time, and must set up for yourself; it is then that I shall be very solicitous to know how you carry on your business. While Mr. Harte was your partner, the care was his share, and the profit yours. But at Paris, if you will have the latter, you must take the former along with it. It will be quite a new world to you; very different from the little world that you have hitherto seen; and you will have much more to do in it. You must keep your little accounts constantly every morning, if you would not have them run into confusion, and swell to a bulk that would frighten you from ever looking into them at all. You must allow some time for learning what you do not know, and some for keeping what you do know; and you must leave a great deal of time for your pleasures; which (I repeat it, again) are now become the most necessary part of your education. It is by conversations, dinners, suppers, entertainments, etc., in the best companies, that you must be formed for the world. ‘Les manieres les agremens, les graces’ cannot be learned by theory; they are only to be got by use among those who have them; and they are now the main object of your life, as they are the necessary steps to your fortune. A man of the best parts, and the greatest learning, if he does not know the world by his own experience and observation, will be very absurd; and consequently very unwelcome in company. He may say very good things; but they will probably be so ill-timed, misplaced, or improperly addressed, that he had much better hold his tongue. Full of his own matter, and uninformed of; or inattentive to, the particular circumstances and situations of the company, he vents it indiscriminately; he puts some people out of countenance; he shocks others; and frightens all, who dread what may come out next. The most general rule that I can give you for the world, and which your experience will convince you of the truth of, is, Never to give the tone to the company, but to take it from them; and to labor more to put them in conceit with themselves, than to make them admire you. Those whom you can make like themselves better, will, I promise you, like you very well.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Since your letter from Sienna, which gave me a pretty vague update on your illness and recovery, I haven’t heard a word from you or Mr. Harte. I chalk this up to the postal service's carelessness; the great distance between us right now exposes our letters to such issues. But when you arrive in Paris, where letters come regularly, I'll insist that you write to me weekly, and on the same day—say every Thursday—so I’ll know which mail to expect your letter. I’ll also need you to share more detailed updates about yourself than you have so far, especially since I occasionally hear from Mr. Harte. In Paris, you’ll be on your own, and I’ll be very eager to know how you’re managing your work. While Mr. Harte was your partner, he handled the responsibilities while you enjoyed the profits. But in Paris, if you want the latter, you’ll have to take on the former as well. It will be a whole new world for you, very different from the small one you’ve known, and you’ll have much more to handle. You should keep track of your little accounts every morning to prevent them from becoming overwhelming and intimidating. Make sure to allocate time to learn what you don’t know and to reinforce what you do know, while also leaving plenty of time for your enjoyment, which (I can’t emphasize this enough) is now a crucial part of your education. Through conversations, dinners, parties, and so on, in the best company, you’ll be shaped for the world. ‘Les manieres les agremens, les graces’ can’t be learned just by reading; they can only be acquired through interaction with those who possess them, and they are now your main focus, as they are essential to your success. A person of great talent and knowledge, if they lack real-world experience and observation, will come off as quite foolish and therefore unwelcome in social settings. They might say meaningful things, but if poorly timed, out of context, or wrongly directed, they would be better off staying silent. Overflowing with their own thoughts and ignoring the specific dynamics of the company, they speak indiscriminately, embarrassing some, shocking others, and raising anxiety among all who dread what might come next. The most important advice I can give you for navigating the world, which your own experiences will confirm, is to never set the tone for the company, but to adopt theirs; and to focus more on making them feel good about themselves than on seeking their admiration. Those you help to appreciate themselves will, I assure you, appreciate you in return.
A system-monger, who, without knowing anything of the world by experience, has formed a system, of it in his dusty cell, lays it down, for example, that (from the general nature of mankind) flattery is pleasing. He will therefore flatter. But how? Why, indiscriminately. And instead of repairing and heightening the piece judiciously, with soft colors and a delicate pencil,—with a coarse brush and a great deal of whitewash, he daubs and besmears the piece he means to adorn. His flattery offends even his patron; and is almost too gross for his mistress. A man of the world knows the force of flattery as well as he does; but then he knows how, when, and where to give it; he proportions his dose to the constitution of the patient. He flatters by application, by inference, by comparison, by hint, and seldom directly. In the course of the world, there is the same difference in everything between system and practice.
A theory-driven person who, without any real-world experience, has created a system in his dusty room declares, for example, that (based on the general nature of people) flattery is enjoyable. So, he decides to flatter. But how? Well, he does it without discrimination. Instead of carefully enhancing the work with soft colors and a delicate touch, he slops paint all over it with a rough brush and a lot of whitewash, ruining what he intends to beautify. His flattery even annoys his patron and is almost too much for his love interest. A worldly man understands the power of flattery just as well; but he knows how, when, and where to use it; he tailors his approach to the individual's sensitivity. He flatters through suggestion, implication, comparison, hints, and rarely directly. In life, there's always a difference between theory and practice.
I long to have you at Paris, which is to be your great school; you will be then in a manner within reach of me.
I really want you to come to Paris, which will be your main place of learning; you'll be more or less close to me then.
Tell me, are you perfectly recovered, or do you still find any remaining complaint upon your lungs? Your diet should be cooling, and at the same time nourishing. Milks of all kinds are proper for you; wines of all kinds bad. A great deal of gentle, and no violent exercise, is good for you. Adieu. ‘Gratia, fama, et valetudo, contingat, abunde!’
Tell me, are you completely healed, or do you still have any issues with your lungs? You should eat a cooling yet nourishing diet. All kinds of milk are good for you; all types of wine are not. A lot of gentle exercise, but no intense workouts, is beneficial for you. Goodbye. 'May you have plenty of grace, fame, and health!'
LETTER CXIX
LONDON, October 22, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter will, I am persuaded, find you, and I hope safely, arrived at Montpelier; from whence I trust that Mr. Harte’s indisposition will, by being totally removed, allow you to get to Paris before Christmas. You will there find two people who, though both English, I recommend in the strongest manner possible to your attention; and advise you to form the most intimate connections with them both, in their different ways. The one is a man whom you already know something of, but not near enough: it is the Earl of Huntingdon; who, next to you, is the truest object of my affection and esteem; and who (I am proud to say it) calls me, and considers me as his adopted father. His parts are as quick as his knowledge is extensive; and if quality were worth putting into an account, where every other item is so much more valuable, he is the first almost in this country: the figure he will make in it, soon after he returns to it, will, if I am not more mistaken than ever I was in my life, equal his birth and my hopes. Such a connection will be of infinite advantage to you; and, I can assure you, that he is extremely disposed to form it upon my account; and will, I hope and believe, desire to improve and cement it upon your own.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I’m sure this letter will find you safe and sound at Montpelier; I hope that Mr. Harte’s health improves so you can make it to Paris before Christmas. There, you'll meet two people who, although both are English, I highly recommend and encourage you to get close to in their own unique ways. One of them is someone you already know a bit, though not nearly enough: the Earl of Huntingdon, who, next to you, is the one I hold in highest affection and respect. I’m proud to say he considers me his adopted father. He’s as sharp as he is knowledgeable, and if nobility counted for anything in this context, he would be among the top in the country. I believe that once he returns, he will make a significant impression, matching both his lineage and my hopes for him. Building this relationship will be incredibly beneficial for you, and I can assure you he is very interested in establishing it for my sake, and I believe he will want to develop and strengthen it for your own sake as well.
In our parliamentary government, connections are absolutely necessary; and, if prudently formed and ably maintained, the success of them is infallible. There are two sorts of connections, which I would always advise you to have in view. The first I will call equal ones; by which I mean those, where the two connecting parties reciprocally find their account, from pretty near an equal degree of parts and abilities. In those, there must be a freer communication; each must see that the other is able, and be convinced that he is willing to be of use to him. Honor must be the principle of such connections; and there must be a mutual dependence, that present and separate interest shall not be able to break them. There must be a joint system of action; and, in case of different opinions, each must recede a little, in order at last to form an unanimous one. Such, I hope, will be your connection with Lord Huntingdon. You will both come into parliament at the same time; and if you have an equal share of abilities and application, you and he, with other young people, with whom you will naturally associate, may form a band which will be respected by any administration, and make a figure in the public. The other sort of connections I call unequal ones; that is, where the parts are all on one side, and the rank and fortune on the other. Here, the advantage is all on one side; but that advantage must be ably and artfully concealed. Complaisance, an engaging manner, and a patient toleration of certain airs of superiority, must cement them. The weaker party must be taken by the heart, his head giving no hold; and he must be governed by being made to believe that he governs. These people, skillfully led, give great weight to their leader. I have formerly pointed out to you a couple that I take to be proper objects for your skill; and you will meet with twenty more, for they are very rife.
In our parliamentary government, connections are absolutely crucial; and, if carefully formed and effectively maintained, their success is guaranteed. There are two types of connections that I recommend keeping in mind. The first type, which I’ll call equal connections, are those where both parties involved benefit equally from a roughly comparable level of skills and abilities. In these cases, there should be open communication; each person must recognize the other's capability and trust that they are willing to help. Honor should be the foundation of these connections, and there should be a mutual dependence to ensure that individual interests can't easily disrupt them. There needs to be a cohesive plan of action, and if disagreements arise, each party should be willing to compromise a bit to ultimately reach a unanimous decision. I hope that this will be the nature of your connection with Lord Huntingdon. You will both enter parliament at the same time, and if you share a similar level of abilities and dedication, you and he, along with other young people you will naturally align with, could create a group that any administration would respect and that would make an impact publicly. The second type of connections I refer to as unequal ones; these are scenarios where one side holds all the power, rank, and wealth. In this case, the advantage lies entirely with one side, but that advantage needs to be skillfully hidden. Charm, a friendly demeanor, and a patient tolerance for certain airs of superiority are key to solidifying these connections. The weaker party should be appealed to emotionally since their intellect doesn’t provide a firm grasp, and they should be led to believe they are in control. Such individuals, when led effectively, can significantly enhance their leader's influence. I have previously pointed out a couple of individuals who I think would be good targets for your efforts; you will encounter many more, as they are quite common.
The other person whom I recommended to you is a woman; not as a woman, for that is not immediately my business; besides, I fear that she is turned of fifty. It is Lady Hervey, whom I directed you to call upon at Dijon, but who, to my great joy, because to your great advantage, passes all this winter at Paris. She has been bred all her life at courts; of which she has acquired all the easy good-breeding and politeness, without the frivolousness. She has all the reading that a woman should have; and more than any woman need have; for she understands Latin perfectly well, though she wisely conceals it. As she will look upon you as her son, I desire that you will look upon her as my delegate: trust, consult, and apply to her without reserve. No woman ever had more than she has, ‘le ton de la parfaitement bonne compagnie, les manieres engageantes, et le je ne sais quoi qui plait’. Desire her to reprove and correct any, and every, the least error and inaccuracy in your manners, air, address, etc. No woman in Europe can do it so well; none will do it more willingly, or in a more proper and obliging manner. In such a case she will not put you out of countenance, by telling you of it in company; but either intimate it by some sign, or wait for an opportunity when you are alone together. She is also in the best French company, where she will not only introduce but PUFF you, if I may use so low a word. And I can assure you that it is no little help, in the ‘beau monde’, to be puffed there by a fashionable woman. I send you the inclosed billet to carry her, only as a certificate of the identity of your person, which I take it for granted she could not know again.
The other person I recommended to you is a woman, but that's not really my focus; also, I think she's over fifty. It's Lady Hervey, whom I suggested you visit in Dijon, but I'm pleased to say, for your benefit, that she’s spending all this winter in Paris. She has been raised in courts, acquiring all the grace and politeness without being superficial. She has all the knowledge a woman should have—and even more than she needs—because she understands Latin perfectly, though she wisely keeps that to herself. Since she will see you as her son, I want you to treat her as my representative: trust her, consult her, and reach out to her without hesitation. No woman has more of the charm of good company, engaging manners, and that special quality that is appealing. Ask her to point out and correct any little mistakes in your manners, demeanor, and address. No one in Europe can do it as well as she can, and no one will do it more willingly or kindly. In such cases, she won’t embarrass you by mentioning it in front of others; she’ll either give you a hint or wait for a moment when you’re alone. She’s also connected with the best French society, where she will not only introduce you but also promote you, if I may use such a casual term. I can assure you that being promoted by a fashionable woman in the social scene is quite helpful. I’m sending you the enclosed note to give to her, just to confirm your identity, which I assume she might not recognize again.
You would be so much surprised to receive a whole letter from me without any mention of the exterior ornaments necessary for a gentleman, as manners, elocution, air, address, graces, etc., that, to comply with your expectations, I will touch upon them; and tell you, that when you come to England, I will show you some people, whom I do not now care to name, raised to the highest stations singly by those exterior and adventitious ornaments, whose parts would never have entitled them to the smallest office in the excise. Are they then necessary, and worth acquiring, or not? You will see many instances of this kind at Paris, particularly a glaring one, of a person—[M. le Marechal de Richelieu]—raised to the highest posts and dignities in France, as well as to be absolute sovereign of the ‘beau monde’, simply by the graces of his person and address; by woman’s chit-chat, accompanied with important gestures; by an imposing air and pleasing abord. Nay, by these helps, he even passes for a wit, though he hath certainly no uncommon share of it. I will not name him, because it would be very imprudent in you to do it. A young fellow, at his first entrance into the ‘beau monde’, must not offend the king ‘de facto’ there. It is very often more necessary to conceal contempt than resentment, the former forgiven, but the latter sometimes forgot.
You'd be quite surprised to get a whole letter from me without mentioning the external traits needed for a gentleman, like manners, speaking skills, presence, charm, and grace. So, to meet your expectations, I'll mention them. When you come to England, I'll introduce you to some people, whom I won't name right now, who achieved the highest positions solely through these external and superficial traits, despite having qualifications that wouldn't earn them even the smallest job in the customs office. Are these traits necessary and worth pursuing, or not? You'll see plenty of examples like this in Paris, particularly a striking example of someone—[M. le Marechal de Richelieu]—who rose to the highest ranks and was the absolute leader of the elite, purely because of his charm and demeanor; through women's gossip paired with significant gestures; and by having a commanding presence and a pleasant approach. In fact, with these advantages, he even manages to be seen as witty, even though he doesn't have an exceptional degree of wit. I won't mention his name because it would be very unwise for you to do so. A young man, entering the elite for the first time, shouldn't offend the reigning king there. Often, it's more important to hide contempt than resentment; the former is forgiven, but the latter can sometimes be long remembered.
There is a small quarto book entitled, ‘Histoire Chronologique de la France’, lately published by Le President Henault, a man of parts and learning, with whom you will probably get acquainted at Paris. I desire that it may always lie upon your table, for your recourse as often as you read history. The chronology, though chiefly relative to the history of France, is not singly confined to it; but the most interesting events of all the rest of Europe are also inserted, and many of them adorned by short, pretty, and just reflections. The new edition of ‘Les Memoires de Sully’, in three quarto volumes, is also extremely well worth your reading, as it will give you a clearer, and truer notion of one of the most interesting periods of the French history, than you can yet have formed from all the other books you may have read upon the subject. That prince, I mean Henry the Fourth, had all the accomplishments and virtues of a hero, and of a king, and almost of a man. The last are the most rarely seen. May you possess them all! Adieu.
There’s a small quarto book called ‘Histoire Chronologique de la France,’ recently published by Le President Henault, a knowledgeable and learned man you'll likely meet in Paris. I hope it always sits on your table for whenever you want to read history. The chronology primarily focuses on the history of France, but it also includes the most interesting events from the rest of Europe, many of which are accompanied by short, charming, and insightful reflections. The new edition of ‘Les Memoires de Sully,’ in three quarto volumes, is also definitely worth reading, as it will give you a clearer and more accurate understanding of one of the most fascinating periods in French history than any other books you’ve read on the topic. That prince, Henry the Fourth, had all the qualities and virtues of a hero, a king, and almost of a true person. The last ones are the rarest. May you possess them all! Goodbye.
Pray make my compliments to Mr. Harte, and let him know that I have this moment received his letter of the 12th, N. S., from Antibes. It requires no immediate answer; I shall therefore delay mine till I have another from him. Give him the inclosed, which I have received from Mr. Eliot.
Please give my regards to Mr. Harte and let him know that I just received his letter from the 12th, N.S., from Antibes. It doesn’t need an immediate response, so I’ll hold off on my reply until I hear from him again. Please give him the enclosed note that I got from Mr. Eliot.
LETTER CXX
LONDON, November 1, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: I hope that this letter will not find you still at Montpelier, but rather be sent after you from thence to Paris, where, I am persuaded, that Mr. Harte could find as good advice for his leg as at Montpelier, if not better; but if he is of a different opinion, I am sure you ought to stay there, as long as he desires.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I hope this letter reaches you in Paris and not still in Montpelier, where I believe Mr. Harte could find just as good, if not better, advice for his leg. But if he thinks otherwise, you should absolutely stay there for as long as he wishes.
While you are in France, I could wish that the hours you allot for historical amusement should be entirely devoted to the history of France. One always reads history to most advantage in that country to which it is relative; not only books, but persons being ever at hand to solve doubts and clear up difficulties. I do by no means advise you to throw away your time in ransacking, like a dull antiquarian, the minute and unimportant parts of remote and fabulous times. Let blockheads read what blockheads wrote. And a general notion of the history of France, from the conquest of that country by the Franks, to the reign of Louis the Eleventh, is sufficient for use, consequently sufficient for you. There are, however, in those remote times, some remarkable eras that deserve more particular attention; I mean those in which some notable alterations happened in the constitution and form of government. As, for example, in the settlement of Clovis in Gaul, and the form of government which he then established; for, by the way; that form of government differed in this particular from all the other Gothic governments, that the people, neither collectively nor by representatives, had any share in it. It was a mixture of monarchy and aristocracy: and what were called the States General of France consisted only of the nobility and clergy till the time of Philip le Bel, in the very beginning of the fourteenth century, who first called the people to those assemblies, by no means for the good of the people, who were only amused by this pretended honor, but, in truth, to check the nobility and clergy, and induce them to grant the money he wanted for his profusion; this was a scheme of Enguerrand de Marigny, his minister, who governed both him and his kingdom to such a degree as to, be called the coadjutor and governor of the kingdom. Charles Martel laid aside these assemblies, and governed by open force. Pepin restored them, and attached them to him, and with them the nation; by which means he deposed Childeric and mounted the throne. This is a second period worth your attention. The third race of kings, which begins with Hugues Capet, is a third period. A judicious reader of history will save himself a great deal of time and trouble by attending with care only to those interesting periods of history which furnish remarkable events, and make eras, and going slightly over the common run of events. Some people read history as others read the “Pilgrim’s Progress”; giving equal attention to, and indiscriminately loading their memories with every part alike. But I would have you read it in a different manner; take the shortest general history you can find of every country; and mark down in that history the most important periods, such as conquests, changes of kings, and alterations of the form of government; and then have recourse to more extensive histories or particular treatises, relative to those great points. Consider them well, trace up their causes, and follow their consequences. For instance, there is a most excellent, though very short history of France, by Le Gendre. Read that with attention, and you will know enough of the general history; but when you find there such remarkable periods as are above mentioned, consult Mezeray, and other of the best and minutest historians, as well as political treatises upon those subjects. In later times, memoirs, from those of Philip de Commines, down to the innumerble ones in the reign of Louis the Fourteenth, have been of great use, and thrown great light upon particular parts of history.
While you are in France, I hope you will spend the time you set aside for historical entertainment entirely on the history of France. You always get the most out of history in the country it relates to; not only are books available, but people are also around to clarify doubts and resolve difficulties. I certainly don’t recommend wasting your time digging through insignificant details of distant and mythical times like a dull antiquarian. Let foolish people read what foolish people wrote. A general understanding of the history of France, from its conquest by the Franks to the reign of Louis the Eleventh, is enough for practical purposes, and that’s sufficient for you. However, there are some significant periods in those early times that deserve more focus; I mean those times when notable changes occurred in the structure and governance of the country. For example, during Clovis’s settlement in Gaul and the government he established; this particular form of government was distinct from other Gothic ones because the people had no say in it, either collectively or through representatives. It was a mix of monarchy and aristocracy: the States General of France consisted only of nobility and clergy until Philip le Bel, at the very start of the fourteenth century, was the first to include the common people in these assemblies—not for their benefit, as they were merely entertained by this false honor, but actually to keep the nobility and clergy in check and to get the funds he needed for his extravagance; this was a plan devised by Enguerrand de Marigny, his minister, who effectively controlled him and his kingdom to such an extent that he was referred to as the coadjutor and governor of the kingdom. Charles Martel abolished these assemblies and governed through open force. Pepin reinstated them and aligned them with himself, gaining the support of the nation, which enabled him to depose Childeric and take the throne. This is a second period worth noting. The third dynasty of kings, which starts with Hugues Capet, is a third significant period. A discerning history reader will save themselves a lot of time and effort by focusing carefully only on the engaging periods of history that feature remarkable events and establish eras, and skim over the common events. Some people read history the same way others read the “Pilgrim’s Progress,” giving equal attention to all parts and mindlessly filling their memories with everything. But I want you to read it differently; find the shortest general history available for every country, and mark the most important periods in that history, such as conquests, changes of kings, and shifts in government structure; then turn to more detailed histories or specific treatises related to those significant points. Consider them thoroughly, trace their causes, and follow their consequences. For instance, there is an excellent, though very brief history of France by Le Gendre. Read that attentively, and you’ll grasp enough of the general history; but when you find noteworthy periods as mentioned above, consult Mezeray and other top historians, as well as political essays on those subjects. In more recent times, memoirs—from those of Philip de Commines through countless others from the reign of Louis the Fourteenth—have been extremely helpful and provided great insights into specific parts of history.
Conversation in France, if you have the address and dexterity to turn it upon useful subjects, will exceedingly improve your historical knowledge; for people there, however classically ignorant they may be, think it a shame to be ignorant of the history of their own country: they read that, if they read nothing else, and having often read nothing else, are proud of having read that, and talk of it willingly; even the women are well instructed in that sort of reading. I am far from meaning by this that you should always be talking wisely in company, of books, history, and matters of knowledge. There are many companies which you will, and ought to keep, where such conversations would be misplaced and ill-timed; your own good sense must distinguish the company and the time. You must trifle only with triflers; and be serious only with the serious, but dance to those who pipe. ‘Cur in theatrum Cato severs venisti?’ was justly said to an old man: how much more so would it be to one of your age? From the moment that you are dressed and go out, pocket all your knowledge with your watch, and never pull it out in company unless desired: the producing of the one unasked, implies that you are weary of the company; and the producing of the other unrequired, will make the company weary of you. Company is a republic too jealous of its liberties, to suffer a dictator even for a quarter of an hour; and yet in that, as in republics, there are some few who really govern; but then it is by seeming to disclaim, instead of attempting to usurp the power; that is the occasion in which manners, dexterity, address, and the undefinable ‘je ne sais quoi’ triumph; if properly exerted, their conquest is sure, and the more lasting for not being perceived. Remember, that this is not only your first and greatest, but ought to be almost your only object, while you are in France.
Talking to people in France, if you know how to steer the conversation toward useful topics, will greatly enhance your understanding of history. Even if they lack formal education, the French feel it’s shameful to be unaware of their own country's history. They will read about it, often as their only reading material, and take pride in it, discussing it openly; even women are well-informed about this kind of reading. I don’t mean to suggest that you should always engage in serious discussions about books, history, and knowledge. There are many groups where such conversations would be out of place and ill-timed; you have to use your good judgment to determine the right context. Play around only with those who are playful, and be serious only with the serious, but know when to join in with the crowd. The saying “Why did you come to the theater, Cato?” was rightly aimed at an older man; how much more applicable would it be to someone your age? Once you’re dressed and out, keep all your knowledge tucked away with your watch, and only bring it out if asked. Pulling out your knowledge uninvited suggests you're tired of the company, and doing the same with your watch will make them tired of you. Social gatherings are like a republic that fiercely protects its freedom, not allowing anyone to take control even for a moment; yet, just like in republics, there are a few who really lead, but they do so by pretending to relinquish power rather than by trying to seize it. This is where good manners, skill, charm, and that indescribable ‘je ne sais quoi’ come into play; if applied correctly, they will ensure your success, and it’ll be even more meaningful if it goes unnoticed. Keep in mind, this should be not just your top priority but should almost be your sole focus while you’re in France.
I know that many of your countrymen are apt to call the freedom and vivacity of the French petulancy and illbreeding; but, should you think so, I desire upon many accounts that you will not say so; I admit that it may be so in some instances of ‘petits maitres Etourdis’, and in some young people unbroken to the world; but I can assure you, that you will find it much otherwise with people of a certain rank and age, upon whose model you will do very well to form yourself. We call their steady assurance, impudence why? Only because what we call modesty is awkward bashfulness and ‘mauvaise honte’. For my part, I see no impudence, but, on the contrary, infinite utility and advantage in presenting one’s self with the same coolness and unconcern in any and every company. Till one can do that, I am very sure that one can never present one’s self well. Whatever is done under concern and embarrassment, must be ill done, and, till a man is absolutely easy and unconcerned in every company, he will never be thought to have kept good company, nor be very welcome in it. A steady assurance, with seeming modesty, is possibly the most useful qualification that a man can have in every part of life. A man would certainly make a very considerable fortune and figure in the world, whose modesty and timidity should often, as bashfulness always does (put him in the deplorable and lamentable situation of the pious AEneas, when ‘obstupuit, steteruntque comae; et vox faucibus haesit!). Fortune (as well as women)—
I know that many people from your country tend to call the freedom and liveliness of the French petulance and bad manners; but if you think so, I really hope you won’t say it out loud for many reasons. I admit that it might be true in some cases with ‘petits maitres Etourdis’ and some young people inexperienced in the world; but I can assure you that you’ll find it quite different among people of a certain rank and age, from whom you would do well to model yourself. We label their steady confidence as impudence—why? Only because what we call modesty is really just awkward shyness and ‘mauvaise honte’. For my part, I see no impudence; rather, I see immense usefulness and advantage in presenting oneself with the same coolness and ease in any and every company. Until one can do that, I’m quite sure one can never present oneself well. Anything done with anxiety and embarrassment is bound to be poorly done, and until a person is completely at ease and unconcerned in every situation, they won’t be considered good company nor be very welcome in it. A steady confidence, paired with an appearance of modesty, is likely the most valuable quality a person can have in every area of life. A person would certainly make a significant fortune and impression in the world, whose modesty and timidity often, as bashfulness always does (putting him in the unfortunate and pitiable state of the pious Aeneas, when ‘he was amazed, his hair stood on end; and his voice stuck in his throat!). Fortune (like women)—
“————-born to be controlled,
Stoops to the forward and the bold.”
“————-meant to be managed,
Lowers itself to those who are pushy and daring.”Assurance and intrepidity, under the white banner of seeming modesty, clear the way for merit, that would otherwise be discouraged by difficulties in its journey; whereas barefaced impudence is the noisy and blustering harbinger of a worthless and senseless usurper.
Confidence and boldness, disguised under a facade of modesty, pave the way for talent that would otherwise be hindered by obstacles in its path; on the other hand, shameless audacity is the loud and brash forerunner of a worthless and foolish impostor.
You will think that I shall never have done recommending to you these exterior worldly accomplishments, and you will think right, for I never shall; they are of too great consequence to you for me to be indifferent or negligent about them: the shining part of your future figure and fortune depends now wholly upon them. These are the acquisitions which must give efficacy and success to those you have already made. To have it said and believed that you are the most learned man in England, would be no more than was said and believed of Dr. Bentley; but to have it said, at the same time, that you are also the best-bred, most polite, and agreeable man in the kingdom, would be such a happy composition of a character as I never yet knew any one man deserve; and which I will endeavor, as well as ardently wish, that you may. Absolute perfection is, I well know, unattainable; but I know too, that a man of parts may be unweariedly aiming at it, and arrive pretty near it. Try, labor, persevere. Adieu.
You might think that I will never stop recommending these external worldly skills to you, and you're right—I won't. They're too important for me to be indifferent or careless about them: the bright part of your future depends entirely on them. These are the achievements that will give real effectiveness and success to what you've already accomplished. It would be no more than what people said about Dr. Bentley if it were said and believed that you are the most learned man in England. But to have it said at the same time that you are also the best-mannered, most polite, and enjoyable person in the country would be such a wonderful mix of traits that I have never known anyone to truly deserve it, and it’s something I will strive for and hope you will achieve as well. I know complete perfection is impossible, but I also know that a talented person can tirelessly aim for it and get quite close. Keep trying, working hard, and never give up. Goodbye.
LETTER CXXI
LONDON, November 8, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: Before you get to Paris, where you will soon be left to your own discretion, if you have any, it is necessary that we should understand one another thoroughly; which is the most probable way of preventing disputes. Money, the cause of much mischief in the world, is the cause of most quarrels between fathers and sons; the former commonly thinking that they cannot give too little, and the latter, that they cannot have enough; both equally in the wrong. You must do me the justice to acknowledge, that I have hitherto neither stinted nor grudged any expense that could be of use or real pleasure to you; and I can assure you, by the way, that you have traveled at a much more considerable expense than I did myself; but I never so much as thought of that, while Mr. Harte was at the head of your finances; being very sure that the sums granted were scrupulously applied to the uses for which they were intended. But the case will soon be altered, and you will be your own receiver and treasurer. However, I promise you, that we will not quarrel singly upon the quantum, which shall be cheerfully and freely granted: the application and appropriation of it will be the material point, which I am now going to clear up and finally settle with you. I will fix, or even name, no settled allowance; though I well know in my own mind what would be the proper one; but I will first try your draughts, by which I can in a good degree judge of your conduct. This only I tell you in general, that if the channels through which my money is to go are the proper ones, the source shall not be scanty; but should it deviate into dirty, muddy, and obscure ones (which by the bye, it cannot do for a week without my knowing it); I give you fair and timely notice, that the source will instantly be dry. Mr. Harte, in establishing you at Paris, will point out to you those proper channels; he will leave you there upon the foot of a man of fashion, and I will continue you upon the same; you will have your coach, your valet de chambre, your own footman, and a valet de place; which, by the way, is one servant more than I had. I would have you very well dressed, by which I mean dressed as the generality of people of fashion are; that is, not to be taken notice of, for being either more or less fine than other people: it is by being well dressed, not finely dressed, that a gentleman should be distinguished. You must frequent ‘les spectacles’, which expense I shall willingly supply. You must play ‘a des petits jeux de commerce’ in mixed companies; that article is trifling; I shall pay it cheerfully. All the other articles of pocket-money are very inconsiderable at Paris, in comparison of what they are here, the silly custom of giving money wherever one dines or sups, and the expensive importunity of subscriptions, not being yet introduced there. Having thus reckoned up all the decent expenses of a gentleman, which I will most readily defray, I come now to those which I will neither bear nor supply. The first of these is gaming, of which, though I have not the least reason to suspect you, I think it necessary eventually to assure you, that no consideration in the world shall ever make me pay your play debts; should you ever urge to me that your honor is pawned, I should most immovably answer you, that it was your honor, not mine, that was pawned; and that your creditor might e’en take the pawn for the debt.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Before you get to Paris, where you’ll soon be on your own, it’s important for us to fully understand each other; this is the best way to avoid disputes. Money, which causes a lot of trouble in the world, is often the root of conflicts between fathers and sons; fathers usually think they can give too little, while sons believe they can never have enough, and both are wrong. You must admit that I have not held back or begrudged any expense that could benefit or truly please you; and I can assure you, by the way, that you have traveled at a significantly higher expense than I did; but I never worried about that while Mr. Harte was managing your finances, being very confident that the funds provided were used exactly for their intended purposes. However, that situation will soon change, and you’ll be your own financial manager. Nevertheless, I promise that we won’t argue over the amount, which will be willingly and freely provided; the key issue will be how you use it, which I’m now going to clarify and finalize with you. I won’t set a specific allowance, though I have a good idea of what would be appropriate; instead, I’ll wait to see how you handle things, from which I can largely assess your behavior. Just so you know, if the ways my money is spent are appropriate, you’ll have plenty; but if it’s misdirected into unsuitable, dirty, or shady places (which it couldn’t be for more than a week without my knowing), I’m giving you fair warning that the funds will dry up immediately. Mr. Harte, in setting you up in Paris, will direct you to those proper channels; he will place you there as a man of means, and I will support you in that status; you will have your coach, your personal servant, your own footman, and a local servant; by the way, that’s one more servant than I had. I want you to be well dressed, meaning you should dress like most people of fashion—neither too flashy nor too plain: a gentleman should stand out for being well dressed, not overly dressed. You should attend the shows, and I’ll gladly cover that expense. You should play some low-stakes games in mixed company; that expense is trivial, and I’ll pay it cheerfully. Other pocket-money needs are quite modest in Paris compared to here, as the ridiculous custom of tipping at every meal and the costly pressure of subscriptions haven’t yet become a thing there. Having outlined all the reasonable expenses of a gentleman, which I’ll gladly cover, I’ll now address those I won’t support. The first is gambling; although I have no reason to suspect you, I feel it’s necessary to assure you that I will never pay your gambling debts; if you ever tell me your honor is at stake, I will firmly respond that it’s your honor, not mine, that’s at risk, and your creditor can very well take that as payment.
Low company, and low pleasures, are always much more costly than liberal and elegant ones. The disgraceful riots of a tavern are much more expensive, as well as dishonorable, than the sometimes pardonable excesses in good company. I must absolutely hear of no tavern scrapes and squabbles.
Cheap company and shallow pleasures always end up costing more than generous and classy ones. The disgraceful brawls at a bar are far more expensive and dishonorable than the occasional forgivable indulgences with good friends. I absolutely cannot hear about any bar fights or arguments.
I come now to another and very material point; I mean women; and I will not address myself to you upon this subject, either in a religious, a moral, or a parental style. I will even lay aside my age, remember yours, and speak to you as one man of pleasure, if he had parts too, would speak to another. I will by no means pay for whores, and their never-failing consequences, surgeons; nor will I, upon any account, keep singers, dancers, actresses, and ‘id genus omne’; and, independently of the expense, I must tell you, that such connections would give me, and all sensible people, the utmost contempt for your parts and address; a young fellow must have as little sense as address, to venture, or more properly to sacrifice, his health and ruin his fortune, with such sort of creatures; in such a place as Paris especially, where gallantry is both the profession and the practice of every woman of fashion. To speak plainly, I will not forgive your understanding c————s and p———-s; nor will your constitution forgive them you. These distempers, as well as their cures, fall nine times in ten upon the lungs. This argument, I am sure, ought to have weight with you: for I protest to you, that if you meet with any such accident, I would not give one year’s purchase for your life. Lastly, there is another sort of expense that I will not allow, only because it is a silly one; I mean the fooling away your money in baubles at toy shops. Have one handsome snuff-box (if you take snuff), and one handsome sword; but then no more pretty and very useless things.
I want to address another important point: women. I won’t talk to you about this in a religious, moral, or parental way. I’ll put my age aside and speak to you as two men who enjoy life. I absolutely won’t pay for prostitutes and their inevitable consequences, like doctors; and I won’t, for any reason, support singers, dancers, actresses, and everything in that category. Besides the cost, I have to tell you that such relationships would make me, and any sensible person, look down on your abilities and charm. A young man would have to be either clueless or foolish to risk his health and ruin his fortune with such people, especially in Paris, where flattery is the profession and the behavior of every fashionable woman. To be blunt, I won’t excuse your foolishness with risky behaviors; nor will your health forgive you for them. These troubles, along with their treatments, often affect the lungs. You should take this seriously because I honestly believe that if you encounter any such issues, I wouldn’t give a year’s worth of your life for your chance of survival. Finally, there’s another type of expense I won’t tolerate, simply because it’s ridiculous: wasting your money on trinkets at toy stores. Have one nice snuff box (if you use snuff) and one good sword, but no more pretty, pointless things.
By what goes before, you will easily perceive that I mean to allow you whatever is necessary, not only for the figure, but for the pleasures of a gentleman, and not to supply the profusion of a rake. This, you must confess, does not savor of either the severity or parsimony of old age. I consider this agreement between us, as a subsidiary treaty on my part, for services to be performed on yours. I promise you, that I will be as punctual in the payment of the subsidies, as England has been during the last war; but then I give you notice at the same time, that I require a much more scrupulous execution of the treaty on your part, than we met with on that of our allies; or else that payment will be stopped. I hope all that I have now said was absolutely unnecessary, and that sentiments more worthy and more noble than pecuniary ones, would of themselves have pointed out to you the conduct I recommend; but, at all events, I resolved to be once for all explicit with you, that, in the worst that can happen, you may not plead ignorance, and complain that I had not sufficiently explained to you my intentions.
From what I've mentioned earlier, you can easily see that I intend to provide you with whatever you need, not just for your appearance, but also for the enjoyment of a gentleman, rather than just feeding the excesses of someone reckless. You have to admit, this does not reflect the strictness or stinginess of old age. I view this agreement between us as a side arrangement on my part, in exchange for the services you will provide. I promise to be as reliable in fulfilling my part as England has been during the last war; however, I also want to make it clear that I expect you to uphold your end of the deal with much more care than we experienced from our allies; otherwise, the payments will be halted. I hope everything I've just said was completely unnecessary, and that feelings more admirable and noble than financial ones would have naturally guided your actions as I suggest; but in any case, I wanted to be clear with you, so that if things go poorly, you can't claim ignorance or say I didn't explain my intentions well enough.
Having mentioned the word rake, I must say a word or two more on that subject, because young people too frequently, and always fatally, are apt to mistake that character for that of a man of pleasure; whereas, there are not in the world two characters more different. A rake is a composition of all the lowest, most ignoble, degrading, and shameful vices; they all conspire to disgrace his character, and to ruin his fortune; while wine and the p———-s contend which shall soonest and most effectually destroy his constitution. A dissolute, flagitious footman, or porter, makes full as good a rake as a man of the first quality. By the bye, let me tell you, that in the wildest part of my youth, I never was a rake, but, on the contrary, always detested and despised that character.
Having mentioned the word rake, I need to say a little more about it because young people often, and always dangerously, confuse that character with someone who simply enjoys life. However, there are not two characters more different in the world. A rake is a mix of all the lowest, most despicable, degrading, and shameful vices; they all work together to tarnish his reputation and ruin his future, while alcohol and the consequences contend to quickly and effectively destroy his health. A reckless, immoral servant or doorman makes just as good a rake as a man of high status. By the way, let me tell you that during the wildest times of my youth, I was never a rake; on the contrary, I always hated and looked down on that character.
A man of pleasure, though not always so scrupulous as he should be, and as one day he will wish he had been, refines at least his pleasures by taste, accompanies them with decency, and enjoys them with dignity. Few men can be men of pleasure, every man may be a rake. Remember that I shall know everything you say or do at Paris, as exactly as if, by the force of magic, I could follow you everywhere, like a sylph or a gnome, invisible myself. Seneca says, very prettily, that one should ask nothing of God, but what one should be willing that men should know; nor of men, but what one should be willing that God should know. I advise you to say and do nothing at Paris, but what you would be willing that I should know. I hope, nay, I believe, that will be the case. Sense, I dare say, you do not want; instruction, I am sure, you have never wanted: experience you are daily gaining: all which together must inevitably (I should think) make you both ‘respectable et aimable’, the perfection of a human character. In that case nothing shall be wanting on my part, and you shall solidly experience all the extent and tenderness of my affection for you; but dread the reverse of both! Adieu!
A pleasure-seeker, though not always as careful as he should be—and as he will one day wish he had been—refines his pleasures with taste, enjoys them with dignity, and keeps them decent. Few can truly be pleasure-seekers; anyone can be reckless. Remember, I will know everything you say or do in Paris, as if, through some magic, I could follow you everywhere, like a spirit or a fairy, remaining invisible myself. Seneca wisely says that one should ask nothing from God that one wouldn't want others to know, and nothing from people that one wouldn't want God to know. I advise you to say and do only what you would be comfortable with me knowing in Paris. I hope, and even believe, that this will be the case. I’m sure you have all the sense you need; you have never lacked instruction, and you gain experience every day. All of this combined should make you both ‘respectable and likable,’ the ideal of a human character. In that case, I will do everything I can, and you'll truly feel the depth of my affection for you; but be wary of the opposite! Goodbye!
P. S. When you get to Paris, after you have been to wait on Lord Albemarle, go to see Mr. Yorke, whom I have particular reasons for desiring that you should be well with, as I shall hereafter explain to you. Let him know that my orders, and your own inclinations, conspired to make you desire his friendship and protection.
P.S. When you arrive in Paris, after you've visited Lord Albemarle, go see Mr. Yorke. I have specific reasons for wanting you to get along with him, which I'll explain later. Let him know that my instructions and your own wishes led you to seek his friendship and support.
LETTER CXXII
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have sent you so many preparatory letters for Paris, that this, which will meet you there, shall only be a summary of them all.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I've sent you so many letters to get ready for Paris that this one, which will reach you there, will just be a summary of them all.
You have hitherto had more liberty than anybody of your age ever had; and I must do you the justice to own, that you have made a better use of it than most people of your age would have done; but then, though you had not a jailer, you had a friend with you. At Paris, you will not only be unconfined, but unassisted. Your own good sense must be your only guide: I have great confidence in it, and am convinced that I shall receive just such accounts of your conduct at Paris as I could wish; for I tell you beforehand, that I shall be most minutely informed of all that you do, and almost of all that you say there. Enjoy the pleasures of youth, you cannot do better: but refine and dignify them like a man, of parts; let them raise, and not sink; let them adorn and not vilify your character; let them, in short, be the pleasures of a gentleman, and taken with your equals at least, but rather with your superiors, and those chiefly French.
You have had more freedom than anyone your age ever has, and I have to admit that you've used it better than most people your age would. However, even though you didn't have a jailer, you did have a friend by your side. In Paris, you'll be not just free, but also on your own. Your own good judgment must be your only guide: I have a lot of faith in it and believe I will hear exactly the kind of updates about your behavior in Paris that I hope for; I want you to know in advance that I will be very well informed about everything you do and almost everything you say while you're there. Enjoy the pleasures of youth; that's the best thing you can do. But refine and elevate them like a thoughtful man; let them uplift you instead of dragging you down; let them enhance rather than tarnish your character; in short, let them be the pleasures of a gentleman, and experienced with your peers at a minimum, but preferably with those above you, especially the French.
Inquire into the characters of the several Academicians, before you form a connection with any of them; and be most upon your guard against those who make the most court to you.
Look into the personalities of the various Academicians before you get involved with any of them, and be especially cautious of those who flatter you the most.
You cannot study much in the Academy; but you may study usefully there, if you are an economist of your time, and bestow only upon good books those quarters and halves of hours, which occur to everybody in the course of almost every day; and which, at the year’s end, amount to a very considerable sum of time. Let Greek, without fail, share some part of every day; I do not mean the Greek poets, the catches of Anacreon, or the tender complaints of Theocritus, or even the porter-like language of Homer’s heroes; of whom all smatterers in Greek know a little, quote often, and talk of always; but I mean Plato, Aristoteles, Demosthenes, and Thucydides, whom none but adepts know. It is Greek that must distinguish you in the learned world, Latin alone will not: and Greek must be sought to be retained, for it never occurs like Latin. When you read history or other books of amusement, let every language you are master of have its turn, so that you may not only retain, but improve in everyone. I also desire that you will converse in German and Italian, with all the Germans and the Italians with whom you converse at all. This will be a very agreeable and flattering thing to them, and a very useful one to you.
You can’t study a lot at the Academy, but you can use your time wisely if you manage your schedule and focus on good books during those small pockets of time you have throughout the day. At the end of the year, those moments add up to a significant amount of time. Be sure to dedicate a part of every day to studying Greek. I’m not talking about the Greek poets, the catchy lines of Anacreon, the gentle laments of Theocritus, or even the simplistic language of Homer’s heroes, which many people know a little about, often quote, and always discuss. I mean Plato, Aristotle, Demosthenes, and Thucydides—the ones only true experts are familiar with. Greek is what will set you apart in the academic world; Latin alone won’t do it. You should continuously work on your Greek because it doesn’t come around as easily as Latin. When you read history or other enjoyable books, make sure to use every language you know, so you not only keep your skills sharp but also improve in each one. I also encourage you to chat in German and Italian with all the Germans and Italians you interact with. This will be enjoyable and flattering for them and very beneficial for you.
Pray apply yourself diligently to your exercises; for though the doing them well is not supremely meritorious, the doing them ill is illiberal, vulgar, and ridiculous.
Please focus on your exercises seriously; for although doing them well isn't incredibly commendable, doing them poorly is unrefined, common, and laughable.
I recommend theatrical representations to you; which are excellent at Paris. The tragedies of Corneille and Racine, and the comedies of Moliere, well attended to, are admirable lessons, both for the heart and the head. There is not, nor ever was, any theatre comparable to the French. If the music of the French operas does not please your Italian ear, the words of them, at least, are sense and poetry, which is much more than I can, say of any Italian opera that I ever read or heard in my life.
I recommend you check out the plays in Paris; they're fantastic. The tragedies of Corneille and Racine, and the comedies of Molière, when you really pay attention to them, offer great lessons for both the heart and the mind. There’s no theater that compares to the French. If the music of French operas doesn't appeal to your Italian taste, at least the lyrics are full of meaning and poetry, which is a lot more than I can say about any Italian opera I've ever read or heard.
I send you the inclosed letter of recommendation to Marquis Matignon, which I would have you deliver to him as soon as you can; you will, I am sure, feel the good effects of his warm friendship for me and Lord Bolingbroke, who has also wrote to him upon your subject. By that, and by the other letters which I have sent you, you will be at once so thoroughly introduced into the best French company, that you must take some pains if you will keep bad; but that is what I do not suspect you of. You have, I am sure, too much right ambition to prefer low and disgraceful company to that of your superiors, both in rank and age. Your character, and consequently your fortune, absolutely depends upon the company you keep, and the turn you take at Paris. I do not in the least mean a grave turn; on the contrary, a gay, a sprightly, but, at the same time, an elegant and liberal one.
I'm sending you the enclosed recommendation letter for Marquis Matignon, and I would like you to deliver it to him as soon as you can. I’m sure you'll benefit from his close friendship with me and Lord Bolingbroke, who has also written to him about you. With this letter and the others I've sent you, you'll be introduced to the best social circles in France, so you’d really have to try hard to end up in bad company, which I don't think you'll do. You have too much ambition to choose low or disgraceful company over that of your betters, both in rank and age. Your character, and therefore your future, completely depends on the company you keep and the social scene you engage with in Paris. I don’t mean to suggest you should adopt a serious demeanor; rather, I encourage you to be cheerful, lively, while also maintaining an elegant and open-minded attitude.
Keep carefully out of all scrapes and quarrels. They lower a character extremely; and are particularly dangerous in France; where a man is dishonored by not resenting an affront, and utterly ruined by resenting it. The young Frenchmen are hasty, giddy, and petulant; extremely national, and ‘avantageux’. Forbear from any national jokes or reflections, which are always improper, and commonly unjust. The colder northern nations generally look upon France as a whistling, singing, dancing, frivolous nation; this notion is very far from being a true one, though many ‘Petits maitres’ by their behavior seem to justify it; but those very ‘petits maltres’, when mellowed by age and experience, very often turn out very able men. The number of great generals and statesmen, as well as excellent authors, that France has produced, is an undeniable proof, that it is not that frivolous, unthinking, empty nation that northern prejudices suppose it. Seem to like and approve of everything at first, and I promise you that you will like and approve of many things afterward.
Stay away from all fights and arguments. They seriously damage your reputation and can be especially risky in France, where a man can be dishonored for not standing up for himself, and completely ruined for doing so. Young French men can be impulsive, reckless, and irritable; they're very nationalistic and self-serving. Avoid making any jokes or comments about nationalities, as they are always inappropriate and often unfair. People from colder northern countries typically view France as a place of frivolity, full of whistling, singing, and dancing; this stereotype is far from true, even if some ‘Petits maîtres’ seem to confirm it with their behavior. However, many of those very ‘Petits maîtres’, as they grow older and gain experience, often turn out to be quite capable individuals. The number of great generals, statesmen, and excellent writers that France has produced is proof that it is not the thoughtless, empty nation northern biases suggest. Act as if you like and approve of everything at first, and I promise you that you will genuinely like and approve of many things later on.
I expect that you will write to me constantly, once every week, which I desire may be every Thursday; and that your letters may inform me of your personal transactions: not of what you see, but of whom you see, and what you do.
I expect that you'll write to me regularly, once a week, preferably every Thursday. I want your letters to share your personal experiences: not just what you see, but who you see and what you do.
Be your own monitor, now that you will have no other. As to enunciation, I must repeat it to you again and again, that there is no one thing so necessary: all other talents, without that, are absolutely useless, except in your own closet.
Be your own guide, since you won’t have anyone else. When it comes to how you express yourself, I need to remind you repeatedly that it’s the most important thing: all other skills are completely worthless without it, except in your own space.
It sounds ridiculously to bid you study with your dancing-master; and yet I do. The bodily-carriage and graces are of infinite consequence to everybody, and more particularly to you.
It sounds ridiculous to tell you to study with your dance instructor, but I really mean it. How you carry yourself and your gracefulness are incredibly important for everyone, especially for you.
Adieu for this time, my dear child. Yours tenderly.
Goodbye for now, my dear child. Yours lovingly.
LETTER CXXIII
LONDON, November 12, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: You will possibly think, that this letter turns upon strange, little, trifling objects; and you will think right, if you consider them separately; but if you take them aggregately, you will be convinced that as parts, which conspire to form that whole, called the exterior of a man of fashion, they are of importance. I shall not dwell now upon these personal graces, that liberal air, and that engaging address, which I have so often recommended to you; but descend still lower, to your dress, cleanliness, and care of your person.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You might think that this letter is about strange, small, trivial things; and you’d be right if you look at them individually. But if you consider them as a whole, you’ll see that they are important as parts that contribute to the overall appearance of a fashionable person. I won’t focus on those personal charms, the gracious demeanor, and the charming way of speaking that I’ve often suggested to you; instead, I want to talk about something even more basic: your clothing, cleanliness, and attention to your personal hygiene.
When you come to Paris, you may take care to be extremely well dressed; that is, as the fashionable people are; this does by no means consist in the finery, but in the taste, fitness, and manner of wearing your clothes; a fine suit ill-made, and slatternly or stiffly worn, far from adorning, only exposes the awkwardness of the wearer. Get the best French tailor to make your clothes, whatever they are, in the fashion, and to fit you: and then wear them, button them, or unbutton them, as the genteelest people you see do. Let your man learn of the best friseur to do your hair well, for that is a very material part of your dress. Take care to have your stockings well gartered up, and your shoes well buckled; for nothing gives a more slovenly air to a man than ill-dressed legs. In your person you must be accurately clean; and your teeth, hands, and nails, should be superlatively so; a dirty mouth has real ill consequences to the owner, for it infallibly causes the decay, as well as the intolerable pain of the teeth, and it is very offensive to his acquaintance, for it will most inevitably stink. I insist, therefore, that you wash your teeth the first thing you do every morning, with a soft sponge and swarm water, for four or five minutes; and then wash your mouth five or six times. Mouton, whom I desire you will send for upon your arrival at Paris, will give you an opiate, and a liquor to be used sometimes. Nothing looks more ordinary, vulgar, and illiberal, than dirty hands, and ugly, uneven, and ragged nails: I do not suspect you of that shocking, awkward trick, of biting yours; but that is not enough: you must keep the ends of them smooth and clean, not tipped with black, as the ordinary people’s always are. The ends of your nails should be small segments of circles, which, by a very little care in the cutting, they are very easily brought to; every time that you wipe your hands, rub the skin round your nails backward, that it may not grow up, and shorten your nails too much. The cleanliness of the rest of your person, which, by the way, will conduce greatly to your health, I refer from time to time to the bagnio. My mentioning these particulars arises (I freely own) from some suspicion that the hints are not unnecessary; for, when you were a schoolboy, you were slovenly and dirty above your fellows. I must add another caution, which is that upon no account whatever, you put your fingers, as too many people are apt to do, in your nose or ears. It is the most shocking, nasty, vulgar rudeness, that can be offered to company; it disgusts one, it turns one’s stomach; and, for my own part, I would much rather know that a man’s fingers were actually in his breech, than see them in his nose. Wash your ears well every morning, and blow your nose in your handkerchief whenever you have occasion; but, by the way, without looking at it afterward. There should be in the least, as well as in the greatest parts of a gentleman, ‘les manieres nobles’. Sense will teach you some, observation others; attend carefully to the manners, the diction, the motions, of people of the first fashion, and form your own upon them. On the other hand, observe a little those of the vulgar, in order to avoid them: for though the things which they say or do may be the same, the manner is always totally different: and in that, and nothing else, consists the characteristic of a man of fashion. The lowest peasant speaks, moves, dresses, eats, and drinks, as much as a man of the first fashion, but does them all quite differently; so that by doing and saying most things in a manner opposite to that of the vulgar, you have a great chance of doing and saying them right. There are gradations in awkwardness and vulgarism, as there are in everything else. ‘Les manieres de robe’, though not quite right, are still better than ‘les manieres bourgeoises’; and these, though bad, are still better than ‘les manieres de campagne’. But the language, the air, the dress, and the manners of the court, are the only true standard ‘des manieres nobles, et d’un honnete homme. Ex pede Herculem’ is an old and true saying, and very applicable to our present subject; for a man of parts, who has been bred at courts, and used to keep the best company, will distinguish himself, and is to be known from the vulgar by every word, attitude, gesture, and even look. I cannot leave these seeming ‘minutiae’, without repeating to you the necessity of your carving well; which is an article, little as it is, that is useful twice every day of one’s life; and the doing it ill is very troublesome to one’s self, and very disagreeable, often ridiculous, to others.
When you arrive in Paris, make sure you're dressed very well; that is, in the style of fashionable people. It’s not just about fancy clothes, but about taste, fit, and how you wear them. A poorly made suit that looks sloppy or too stiff doesn’t enhance your appearance; it just highlights your awkwardness. Get a skilled French tailor to make your clothes to fit and in style, and then wear them however the classy people do—buttoned or unbuttoned. Have a talented hairstylist do your hair well because that’s an important part of your look. Make sure your stockings are properly gartered and your shoes are well-buckled; nothing looks worse than poorly dressed legs. You should be impeccably clean, and your teeth, hands, and nails should be especially clean. A dirty mouth leads to real consequences, like tooth decay and painful cavities, and it’s very off-putting to others due to bad breath. I strongly recommend that you brush your teeth every morning as the first thing you do, using a soft sponge and warm water for four or five minutes, then rinse your mouth five or six times. Mouton, whom I suggest you call when you get to Paris, will provide you with an opiate and a mouthwash to use occasionally. Nothing seems more ordinary, tacky, and ill-bred than dirty hands and ragged, uneven nails: I don't think you have the terrible habit of biting your nails, but that's not enough. You must keep the edges smooth and clean, not looking dirty like average people’s nails. The tips of your nails should be shaped like small segments of circles, which is easily achievable with a little care when cutting them. Every time you wash your hands, rub the skin around your nails backward to prevent it from growing over and shortening your nails too much. For the cleanliness of the rest of your body, which helps your health, I defer to the bathing facilities from time to time. My mentioning these details comes from my suspicion that these reminders are necessary; when you were in school, you were messier and dirtier than others. I also must caution you never to put your fingers, as too many do, in your nose or ears. It’s the most disgusting, rude behavior one can show in company; it’s repulsive and makes one feel ill. Personally, I’d rather know a man has his fingers in his backside than see them in his nose. Clean your ears well every morning, and blow your nose into your handkerchief whenever necessary; but don’t look at it afterward. In both small and large aspects of a gentleman, there should be "noble manners." Common sense will teach you some, and observation will teach you others; pay attention to the manners, speech, and movements of fashionable people and shape your own accordingly. Conversely, observe a bit those of the lower class to avoid their behaviors. Although they might say or do the same things, the manner is always completely different: that's where the hallmark of a fashionable person lies. A peasant may speak, move, dress, eat, and drink just like a person of high fashion, but does everything very differently; thus, by doing and saying most things in a way opposite from the common folks, you’re more likely to do and say them correctly. There are levels of awkwardness and tackiness, just like everything else. "Les manieres de robe," while not perfect, are still better than "les manieres bourgeoises," and these, while flawed, are preferable to "les manieres de campagne." But the language, demeanor, fashion, and manners of the court are the true standard of "noble manners and a gentleman." "Ex pede Herculem" is an old saying that applies here, because a person of talent, who has been raised in courts and accustomed to the best company, will stand out and can be recognized from the common crowd by every word, posture, gesture, and even glance. I can’t conclude these seemingly minor details without mentioning once more the importance of being able to carve well; this skill, though small, is useful twice a day in life, and doing it poorly is bothersome for you and often unpleasant or even ridiculous for others.
Having said all this, I cannot help reflecting, what a formal dull fellow, or a cloistered pedant, would say, if they were to see this letter: they would look upon it with the utmost contempt, and say that surely a father might find much better topics for advice to a son. I would admit it, if I had given you, or that you were capable of receiving, no better; but if sufficient pains have been taken to form your heart and improve your mind, and, as I hope, not without success, I will tell those solid gentlemen, that all these trifling things, as they think them, collectively, form that pleasing ‘je ne sais quoi’, that ensemble, which they are utter strangers to both in themselves and others. The word aimable is not known in their language, or the thing in their manners. Great usage of the world, great attention, and a great desire of pleasing, can alone give it; and it is no trifle. It is from old people’s looking upon these things as trifles, or not thinking of them at all, that so many young people are so awkward and so ill-bred. Their parents, often careless and unmindful of them, give them only the common run of education, as school, university, and then traveling; without examining, and very often without being able to judge, if they did examine, what progress they make in any one of these stages. Then, they carelessly comfort themselves, and say, that their sons will do like other people’s sons; and so they do, that is, commonly very ill. They correct none of the childish nasty tricks, which they get at school; nor the illiberal manners which they contract at the university; nor the frivolous and superficial pertness, which is commonly all that they acquire by their travels. As they do not tell them of these things, nobody else can; so they go on in the practice of them, without ever hearing, or knowing, that they are unbecoming, indecent, and shocking. For, as I have often formerly observed to you, nobody but a father can take the liberty to reprove a young fellow, grown up, for those kinds of inaccuracies and improprieties of behavior. The most intimate friendship, unassisted by the paternal superiority, will not authorize it. I may truly say, therefore, that you are happy in having me for a sincere, friendly, and quick-sighted monitor. Nothing will escape me: I shall pry for your defects, in order to correct them, as curiously as I shall seek for your perfections, in order to applaud and reward them, with this difference only, that I shall publicly mention the latter, and never hint at the former, but in a letter to, or a tete-d-tete with you. I will never put you out of countenance before company; and I hope you will never give me reason to be out of countenance for you, as any one of the above-mentioned defects would make me. ‘Praetor non, curat de minimis’, was a maxim in the Roman law; for causes only of a certain value were tried by him but there were inferior jurisdictions, that took cognizance of the smallest. Now I shall try you, not only as ‘praetor’ in the greatest, but as ‘censor’ in lesser, and as the lowest magistrate in the least cases.
Having said all this, I can’t help but think about what a stuffy, dull person or a sheltered know-it-all would say if they saw this letter: they would regard it with total disdain and claim that a father should surely find much better things to advise his son about. I would agree if I hadn’t given you—and you weren’t capable of receiving—better advice; but since I believe I’ve made an effort to shape your heart and sharpen your mind, and hopefully with some success, I will tell those serious gentlemen that all the little things they dismiss as trifles collectively create that delightful ‘je ne sais quoi’, that charm, which they know nothing about in themselves or in others. The concept of amiable doesn’t even exist in their vocabulary, nor does it appear in their behavior. Only extensive exposure to the world, keen observation, and a genuine desire to please can create it; and it’s not insignificant. Older people tend to see these things as trivial or ignore them entirely, which is why so many young people come off as awkward and badly mannered. Their parents, often indifferent and inattentive, provide only the standard education—schools, universities, and then travel—without really assessing, and often without being able to judge even if they tried, the progress the kids make at any of these stages. Then they comfort themselves with the thought that their sons will turn out fine like other people’s sons; and in fact, they do, which usually means very poorly. They don’t address any of the childish bad habits picked up at school, nor the unrefined behaviors developed at university, nor the superficial arrogance that is typically all they learn from traveling. Since they don’t point these things out, no one else does either; so they continue to engage in such behavior without ever realizing it’s inappropriate, indecent, and shocking. As I’ve pointed out to you before, only a father can really criticize a young man for such inaccuracies and social missteps. Not even the closest friendship, lacking that paternal authority, will allow for it. Therefore, I can truly say that you’re fortunate to have me as a sincere, friendly, and perceptive guide. Nothing will slip by me: I will look for your flaws to correct them, just as carefully as I’ll seek out your strengths to praise and reward you for them, with the only difference being that I’ll publicly mention the latter and only discuss the former in a letter to you or in a one-on-one conversation. I will never embarrass you in front of others, and I hope you’ll never give me a reason to feel embarrassed for you, as any of the flaws I mentioned could. ‘Praetor non, curat de minimis’ was a principle in Roman law; only cases with a certain level of significance were handled by him, though there were lower courts that dealt with minor issues. Now, I’ll judge you not only as a ‘praetor’ in significant matters but also as a ‘censor’ in minor ones, and as the lowest authority in the smallest cases.
I have this moment received Mr. Harte’s letter of the 1st November, N. S., by which I am very glad to find that he thinks of moving toward Paris, the end of this month, which looks as if his leg were better; besides, in my opinion, you both of you only lose time at Montpelier; he would find better advice, and you better company, at Paris. In the meantime, I hope you go into the best company there is at Montpelier; and there always is some at the Intendant’s, or the Commandant’s. You will have had full time to learn ‘les petites chansons Languedociennes’, which are exceedingly pretty ones, both words and tunes. I remember, when I was in those parts, I was surprised at the difference which I found between the people on one side, and those on the other side of the Rhone. The Provencaux were, in general, surly, ill-bred, ugly, and swarthy; the Languedocians the very reverse: a cheerful, well-bred, handsome people. Adieu! Yours most affectionately.
I just received Mr. Harte’s letter dated November 1st, N.S., and I’m really glad to see that he’s thinking about heading to Paris at the end of this month, which suggests that his leg is getting better. Besides, in my opinion, you both are just wasting time in Montpelier; he would get better advice, and you would find better company in Paris. In the meantime, I hope you socialize with the best crowd in Montpelier; there’s always some good company at the Intendant’s or the Commandant’s. You must have had plenty of time to learn those pretty Languedoc songs, both in lyrics and melody. I remember when I was in that area, I was surprised by the difference I noticed between the people on one side of the Rhône and the other. The Provencaux were generally grumpy, rude, unattractive, and dark-skinned; the Languedocians were just the opposite: cheerful, well-mannered, and good-looking. Goodbye! Yours very affectionately.
P. S. Upon reflection, I direct this letter to Paris; I think you must have left Montpelier before it could arrive there.
P. S. Looking back, I'm sending this letter to Paris; I believe you must have left Montpelier before it got there.
LETTER CXXIV
LONDON, November 19, O. S. 1750
MY DEAR FRIEND: I was very glad to find by your letter of the 12th, N. S., that you had informed yourself so well of the state of the French marine at Toulon, and of the commerce at Marseilles; they are objects that deserve the inquiry and attention of every man who intends to be concerned in public affairs. The French are now wisely attentive to both; their commerce is incredibly increased within these last thirty years; they have beaten us out of great part of our Levant trade; their East India trade has greatly affected ours; and, in the West Indies, their Martinico establishment supplies, not only France itself, but the greatest part of Europe, with sugars whereas our islands, as Jamaica, Barbadoes, and the Leeward, have now no other market for theirs but England. New France, or Canada, has also greatly lessened our fur and skin trade. It is true (as you say) that we have no treaty of commerce subsisting (I do not say WITH MARSEILLES) but with France. There was a treaty of commerce made between England and France, immediately after the treaty of Utrecht; but the whole treaty was conditional, and to depend upon the parliament’s enacting certain things which were stipulated in two of the articles; the parliament, after a very famous debate, would not do it; so the treaty fell to the ground: however, the outlines of that treaty are, by mutual and tacit consent, the general rules of our present commerce with France. It is true, too, that our commodities which go to France, must go in our bottoms; the French having imitated in many respects our famous Act of Navigation, as it is commonly called. This act was made in the year 1652, in the parliament held by Oliver Cromwell. It forbids all foreign ships to bring into England any merchandise or commodities whatsoever, that were not of the growth and produce of that country to which those ships belonged, under penalty of the forfeiture of such ships. This act was particularly leveled at the Dutch, who were at that time the carriers of almost all Europe, and got immensely by freight. Upon this principle, of the advantages arising from freight, there is a provision in the same act, that even the growth and produce of our own colonies in America shall not be carried from thence to any other country in Europe, without first touching in England; but this clause has lately been repealed, in the instances of some perishable commodities, such as rice, etc., which are allowed to be carried directly from our American colonies to other countries. The act also provides, that two-thirds, I think, of those who navigate the said ships shall be British subjects. There is an excellent, and little book, written by the famous Monsieur Huet Eveque d’Avranches, ‘Sur le Commerce des Anciens’, which is very well worth your reading, and very soon read. It will give you a clear notion of the rise and progress of commerce. There are many other books, which take up the history of commerce where Monsieur d’Avranches leaves it, and bring it down to these times. I advise you to read some of them with care; commerce being a very essential part of political knowledge in every country; but more particularly in that which owes all its riches and power to it.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I was very happy to see in your letter from the 12th that you’ve gotten a solid understanding of the state of the French navy at Toulon and the commerce in Marseilles; these are topics that deserve the interest and attention of anyone who plans to be involved in public affairs. The French are currently smartly focused on both; their trade has increased dramatically over the last thirty years; they have taken a large share of our Levant trade; their East India trade has significantly impacted ours; and, in the West Indies, their operations in Martinique supply not just France but much of Europe with sugar, while our islands like Jamaica, Barbados, and the Leewards now only have England as a market for theirs. New France, or Canada, has also considerably reduced our fur and skin trade. It’s true (as you mentioned) that we currently have no trade treaty with France, aside from one with Marseilles. A treaty was established between England and France right after the Treaty of Utrecht, but it was conditional and depended on Parliament enacting certain provisions stipulated in two of its articles; after a well-known debate, Parliament chose not to proceed, and the treaty was abandoned. Nonetheless, the basic terms of that treaty have become, by mutual and unspoken agreement, the rules of our current trade with France. It’s also true that our goods sent to France must be carried on our own ships; the French have emulated many aspects of our famous Navigation Act, which was established in 1652 during Oliver Cromwell's Parliament. This act prohibits foreign ships from bringing any goods into England unless they are from the country to which those ships belong, under penalty of ship forfeiture. This act was specifically aimed at the Dutch, who were then the main carriers for nearly all of Europe and profited immensely from freight. Based on the principles of the advantages from freight, the act includes a provision that even goods from our American colonies cannot be transported to any other country in Europe without first stopping in England; however, this rule has recently been repealed for certain perishable goods, like rice, which can now be shipped directly from our American colonies to other countries. The act also requires that two-thirds of the crew on those ships must be British subjects. There is a great little book written by the famous Monsieur Huet, Bishop of Avranches, titled ‘Sur le Commerce des Anciens,' which is definitely worth your time to read and is quick to get through. It will give you a clear understanding of the rise and development of commerce. There are many other books that pick up the history of commerce where Monsieur d’Avranches leaves off, bringing it up to the present day. I recommend you read some of them thoroughly; commerce is a crucial aspect of political knowledge in every country, but especially in one that owes all its wealth and power to it.
I come now to another part of your letter, which is the orthography, if I may call bad spelling ORTHOGRAPHY. You spell induce, ENDUCE; and grandeur, you spell grandURE; two faults of which few of my housemaids would have been guilty. I must tell you that orthography, in the true sense of the word, is so absolutely necessary for a man of letters; or a gentleman, that one false spelling may fix ridicule upon him for the rest of his life; and I know a man of quality, who never recovered the ridicule of having spelled WHOLESOME without the w.
I’m now addressing another part of your letter, which is the spelling—if I can refer to poor spelling as “spelling.” You spell “induce” as “ENDUCE” and “grandeur” as “grandURE”; two mistakes that even my housemaids wouldn’t make. I have to tell you that proper spelling, in the true sense of the word, is absolutely essential for anyone who wants to be a man of letters or a gentleman; just one misspelling can lead to lasting mockery for the rest of his life. I know someone of high status who never lived down the embarrassment of spelling “WHOLESOME” without the “w.”
Reading with care will secure everybody from false spelling; for books are always well spelled, according to the orthography of the times. Some words are indeed doubtful, being spelled differently by different authors of equal authority; but those are few; and in those cases every man has his option, because he may plead his authority either way; but where there is but one right way, as in the two words above mentioned, it is unpardonable and ridiculous for a gentleman to miss it; even a woman of a tolerable education would despise and laugh, at a lover, who should send her an ill-spelled billet-doux. I fear and suspect, that you have taken it into your head, in most cases, that the matter is all, and the manner little or nothing. If you have, undeceive yourself, and be convinced that, in everything, the manner is full as important as the matter. If you speak the sense of an angel, in bad words and with a disagreeable utterance, nobody will hear you twice, who can help it. If you write epistles as well as Cicero, but in a very bad hand, and very ill-spelled, whoever receives will laugh at them; and if you had the figure of Adonis, with an awkward air and motions, it will disgust instead of pleasing. Study manner, therefore, in everything, if you would be anything. My principal inquiries of my friends at Paris, concerning you, will be relative to your manner of doing whatever you do. I shall not inquire whether you understand Demosthenes, Tacitus, or the ‘Jus Publicum Imperii’; but I shall inquire, whether your utterance is pleasing, your style not only pure, but elegant, your manners noble and easy, your air and address engaging in short, whether you are a gentleman, a man of fashion, and fit to keep good company, or not; for, till I am satisfied in these particulars, you and I must by no means meet; I could not possibly stand it. It is in your power to become all this at Paris, if you please. Consult with Lady Hervey and Madame Monconseil upon all these matters; and they will speak to you, and advise you freely. Tell them, that ‘bisogna compatire ancora’, that you are utterly new in the world; that you are desirous to form yourself; that you beg they will reprove, advise, and correct you; that you know that none can do it so well; and that you will implicitly follow their directions. This, together with your careful observation of the manners of the best company, will really form you.
Reading carefully will protect everyone from poor spelling because books are always spelled correctly according to the standards of the time. Some words are indeed uncertain, as different authors of equal authority spell them differently; but those instances are few. In those cases, everyone has their choice, as they can cite their authority in either direction. However, where there is only one correct way, like in the two words mentioned above, it is unacceptable and ridiculous for a gentleman to miss it. Even a reasonably educated woman would look down on and laugh at a suitor who sent her a poorly spelled love note. I fear you may have come to believe that substance is everything and style is minor or irrelevant. If that's the case, correct your thinking and realize that, in everything, the manner is just as important as the substance. If you convey the sense of an angel but do so in poor language and with an unpleasant delivery, no one will stick around to listen. If you write letters as well as Cicero but do so in a terrible handwriting and with misspellings, anyone who receives them will just laugh; and even if you have the looks of Adonis, if you carry yourself awkwardly, it will be off-putting rather than charming. So, focus on your style in everything if you want to make something of yourself. My main questions about you to my friends in Paris will be about how you conduct yourself in everything you do. I won’t ask if you understand Demosthenes, Tacitus, or the ‘Jus Publicum Imperii’ but instead whether your speech is pleasant, your writing is not just correct but elegant, your manners are graceful, and your demeanor and interactions are engaging—in short, whether you are a gentleman, a fashionable man, and suitable for good company; because until I’m satisfied with these things, we absolutely cannot meet; I simply couldn’t handle it. You can achieve all this in Paris if you want to. Talk to Lady Hervey and Madame Monconseil about these matters; they will speak to you and advise you openly. Let them know that ‘bisogna compatire ancora,’ that you are completely new to the world; that you want to improve yourself; that you ask them to criticize, advise, and correct you; that you understand no one can do it better; and that you will follow their guidance without question. This, along with careful observation of the manners of the best company, will truly shape you.
Abbe Guasco, a friend of mine, will come to you as soon as he knows of your arrival at Paris; he is well received in the best companies there, and will introduce you to them. He will be desirous to do you any service he can; he is active and curious, and can give you information upon most things. He is a sort of ‘complaisant’ of the President Montesquieu, to whom you have a letter.
Abbe Guasco, a friend of mine, will reach out to you as soon as he hears about your arrival in Paris; he’s well-connected in the top social circles there and will introduce you to them. He’ll be eager to help you in any way he can; he’s resourceful and inquisitive, and can provide you with information on just about anything. He’s a kind of liaison for President Montesquieu, to whom you have a letter.
I imagine that this letter will not wait for you very long at Paris, where I reckon you will be in about a fortnight. Adieu.
I think this letter won’t be waiting for you in Paris for too long, where I expect you’ll be in about two weeks. Goodbye.
LETTER CXXV
LONDON, December 24, 1750
DEAR FRIEND: At length you are become a Parisian, and consequently must be addressed in French; you will also answer me in the same language, that I may be able to judge of the degree in which you possess the elegance, the delicacy, and the orthography of that language which is, in a manner, become the universal one of Europe. I am assured that you speak it well, but in that well there are gradations. He, who in the provinces might be reckoned to speak correctly, would at Paris be looked upon as an ancient Gaul. In that country of mode, even language is subservient to fashion, which varies almost as often as their clothes.
DEAR FRIEND: Finally, you've become a Parisian, so I must write to you in French; you should also respond in the same language so I can assess how well you capture the elegance, delicacy, and spelling of a language that has, in a way, become the universal one in Europe. I've been told you speak it well, but "well" can mean different things. Someone who might be considered correct in the provinces would be seen as outdated in Paris. In that trendy country, even language follows fashion, changing almost as often as their clothes do.
The AFFECTED, the REFINED, the NEOLOGICAL, OR NEW FASHIONABLE STYLE are at present too much in vogue at Paris. Know, observe, and occasionally converse (if you please) according to those different styles; but do not let your taste be infected by them. Wit, too, is there subservient to fashion; and actually, at Paris, one must have wit, even in despite of Minerva. Everybody runs after it; although if it does not come naturally and of itself; it never can be overtaken. But, unfortunately for those who pursue, they seize upon what they take for wit, and endeavor to pass it for such upon others. This is, at best, the lot of Ixion, who embraced a cloud instead of the goddess he pursued. Fine sentiments, which never existed, false and unnatural thoughts, obscure and far-sought expressions, not only unintelligible, but which it is even impossible to decipher, or to guess at, are all the consequences of this error; and two-thirds of the new French books which now appear are made up of those ingredients. It is the new cookery of Parnassus, in which the still is employed instead of the pot and the spit, and where quintessences and extracts ate chiefly used. N. B. The Attic salt is proscribed.
The AFFECTED, the REFINED, the NEOLOGICAL, OR NEW FASHIONABLE STYLE are currently very trendy in Paris. Know, observe, and occasionally engage in conversation (if you wish) according to these different styles; but don’t let your taste be influenced by them. Wit, too, is at the mercy of fashion there; in fact, in Paris, you have to have wit, even against the odds. Everyone is chasing it; but if it doesn't come naturally, it can never truly be caught. Unfortunately for those who pursue it, they grasp what they think is wit and try to pass it off as such to others. This is, at best, like Ixion embracing a cloud instead of the goddess he sought. Pretentious sentiments, which never existed, false and unnatural thoughts, obscure and overly complicated expressions—completely unintelligible, and impossible to decipher or even guess at—are all the results of this mistake; and two-thirds of the new French books that are being published now are made up of these elements. It’s the new cuisine of Parnassus, where a still takes the place of pots and spits, and where extracts and essences are mainly used. N.B. The Attic salt is banned.
You will now and then be obliged to eat of this new cookery, but do not suffer your taste to be corrupted by it. And when you, in your turn, are desirous of treating others, take the good old cookery of Lewis XIV.‘s reign for your rule. There were at that time admirable head cooks, such as Corneille, Boileau, Racine, and La Fontaine. Whatever they prepared was simple, wholesome, and solid. But laying aside all metaphors, do not suffer yourself to be dazzled by false brilliancy, by unnatural expressions, nor by those antitheses so much in fashion: as a protection against such innovations, have a recourse to your own good sense, and to the ancient authors. On the other hand, do not laugh at those who give into such errors; you are as yet too young to act the critic, or to stand forth a severe avenger of the violated rights of good sense. Content yourself with not being perverted, but do not think of converting others; let them quietly enjoy their errors in taste, as well as in religion. Within the course of the last century and a half, taste in France has (as well as that kingdom itself) undergone many vicissitudes. Under the reign of I do not say Lewis XIII. but of Cardinal de Richelieu, good taste first began to make its way. It was refined under that of Lewis XIV., a great king, at least, if not a great man. Corneille was the restorer of true taste, and the founder of the French theatre; although rather inclined to the Italian ‘Concetti’ and the Spanish ‘Agudeze’. Witness those epigrams which he makes Chimene utter in the greatest excess of grief.
You will sometimes have to eat this new-style food, but don’t let your taste be ruined by it. When you want to host others, stick to the classic recipes from the time of Louis XIV. Back then, there were amazing head chefs like Corneille, Boileau, Racine, and La Fontaine. Whatever they made was simple, healthy, and solid. But to get straight to the point, don’t be dazzled by false brilliance, unnatural expressions, or the popular oppositions of the day. To guard against such fads, trust your own common sense and consult the great old authors. However, don’t mock those who fall for these mistakes; you’re still too young to be a critic or a harsh defender of common sense. Just make sure you don’t get swayed, and don’t try to change others; let them enjoy their faulty tastes, both in food and in faith. Over the last century and a half, taste in France has gone through many changes, much like the kingdom itself. During the reign of—I won’t say Louis XIII., but of Cardinal Richelieu—good taste began to take root. It was refined in the time of Louis XIV., a great king, if not necessarily a great man. Corneille was the restorer of true taste and the founder of French theater, although he was somewhat influenced by Italian "Concetti" and Spanish "Agudeze." Just look at those epigrams he has Chimene say in her deepest grief.
Before his time, those kind of itinerant authors, called troubadours or romanciers, were a species of madmen who attracted the admiration of fools. Toward the end of Cardinal de Richelieu’s reign, and the beginning of Lewis XIV.‘s, the Temple of Taste was established at the Hotel of Rambouillet; but that taste was not judiciously refined this Temple of Taste might more properly have been named a Laboratory of Wit, where good sense was put to the torture, in order to extract from it the most subtile essence. There it was that Voiture labored hard and incessantly to create wit. At length, Boileau and Moliere fixed the standard of true taste. In spite of the Scuderys, the Calprenedes, etc., they defeated and put to flight ARTAMENES, JUBA, OROONDATES, and all those heroes of romance, who were, notwithstanding (each of them), as good as a whole Army. Those madmen then endeavored to obtain an asylum in libraries; this they could not accomplish, but were under a necessity of taking shelter in the chambers of some few ladies. I would have you read one volume of “Cleopatra,” and one of “Clelia”; it will otherwise be impossible for you to form any idea of the extravagances they contain; but God keep you from ever persevering to the twelfth.
Before his time, those itinerant writers known as troubadours or romanciers were seen as a type of madman who earned the admiration of fools. Toward the end of Cardinal de Richelieu’s reign and the beginning of Louis XIV’s, the Temple of Taste was established at the Hôtel de Rambouillet; however, that taste wasn’t accurately refined. This Temple of Taste would have been better labeled a Laboratory of Wit, where common sense was tortured to extract the most subtle essence. It was here that Voiture worked tirelessly to create wit. Eventually, Boileau and Molière set the standard for true taste. Despite the Scudéry siblings, Calprenedes, and others, they triumphed over ARTAMENES, JUBA, OROONDATES, and all those romantic heroes, who, despite their flaws, were as effective as an entire army. Those madmen then sought refuge in libraries; however, they couldn’t achieve that and instead had to take cover in the rooms of a few ladies. I urge you to read one volume of “Cleopatra” and one of “Clelia”; otherwise, you won’t be able to grasp the absurdities they contain. But may God help you if you ever feel inclined to read up to the twelfth volume.
During almost the whole reign of Lewis XIV., true taste remained in its purity, until it received some hurt, although undesignedly, from a very fine genius, I mean Monsieur de Fontenelle; who, with the greatest sense and the most solid learning, sacrificed rather too much to the Graces, whose most favorite child and pupil he was. Admired with reason, others tried to imitate him; but, unfortunately for us, the author of the “Pastorals,” of the “History of Oracles,” and of the “French Theatre,” found fewer imitators than the Chevalier d’Her did mimics. He has since been taken off by a thousand authors: but never really imitated by anyone that I know of.
During almost the entire reign of Louis XIV, true taste remained pure until it was unintentionally affected by a very talented individual, namely Monsieur de Fontenelle. With great insight and solid knowledge, he sacrificed a bit too much to the Graces, of which he was their most favored child and student. Others, rightly admiring him, tried to copy his style; however, unfortunately for us, the author of the “Pastorals,” the “History of Oracles,” and the “French Theatre” had fewer imitators than the Chevalier d’Her had impersonators. Since then, he has been referenced by countless authors, but as far as I know, no one has truly managed to imitate him.
At this time, the seat of true taste in France seems to me not well established. It exists, but torn by factions. There is one party of petits maitres, one of half-learned women, another of insipid authors whose works are ‘verba et voces, et praeterea nihil’; and, in short, a numerous and very fashionable party of writers, who, in a metaphysical jumble, introduce their false and subtle reasonings upon the movements and the sentiments of THE SOUL, THE HEART, and THE MIND.
Right now, the center of true taste in France doesn’t seem to be firmly established. It’s there, but divided by factions. There’s one group of pretentious experts, another of semi-educated women, and a third of bland authors whose works are just “words and voices, and nothing more.” In short, there’s a large and very trendy group of writers who, in a confusing mix of ideas, present their false and complicated reasoning about the movements and feelings of THE SOUL, THE HEART, and THE MIND.
Do not let yourself be overpowered by fashion, nor by particular sets of people with whom you may be connected; but try all the different coins before you receive any in payment. Let your own good sense and reason judge of the value of each; and be persuaded, that NOTHING CAN BE BEAUTIFUL UNLESS TRUE: whatever brilliancy is not the result of the solidity and justness of a thought, it is but a false glare. The Italian saying upon a diamond is equally just with regard to thoughts, ‘Quanto Piu sodezza, tanto piu splendore’.
Don’t let yourself be overwhelmed by fashion or specific groups of people you might be associated with; instead, try out all the different options before accepting any. Rely on your own good judgment to assess the value of each one; and remember, NOTHING CAN BE BEAUTIFUL UNLESS IT’S TRUE: any brightness that doesn’t come from solid and sound thinking is just a shallow shine. The Italian saying about diamonds applies equally to thoughts: ‘Quanto Piu sodezza, tanto piu splendore’.
All this ought not to hinder you from conforming externally to the modes and tones of the different companies in which you may chance to be. With the ‘petits maitres’ speak epigrams; false sentiments, with frivolous women; and a mixture of all these together, with professed beaux esprits. I would have you do so; for at your age you ought not to aim at changing the tone of the company, but conform to it. Examine well, however; weigh all maturely within yourself; and do not mistake the tinsel of Tasso for the gold of Virgil.
All this shouldn’t stop you from fitting in with the styles and attitudes of the different groups you might find yourself in. With the “petty masters,” speak in clever sayings; share insincere feelings with shallow women; and mix all of this together with self-proclaimed witty people. I want you to do this because at your age, you shouldn't try to change the vibe of the group, but rather adapt to it. However, take time to reflect; consider everything thoughtfully within yourself, and don’t confuse the flashy words of Tasso with the true value of Virgil.
You will find at Paris good authors, and circles distinguished by the solidity of their reasoning. You will never hear TRIFLING, AFFECTED, and far-sought conversations, at Madame de Monconseil’s, nor at the hotels of Matignon and Coigni, where she will introduce you. The President Montesquieu will not speak to you in the epigrammatic style. His book, the “Spirit of the Laws,” written in the vulgar tongue, will equally please and instruct you.
You’ll find great authors in Paris, and groups noted for their solid reasoning. You won’t encounter superficial, pretentious, or overly elaborate conversations at Madame de Monconseil’s or at the hotels of Matignon and Coigni, where she’ll take you. President Montesquieu won’t talk to you in witty one-liners. His book, “The Spirit of the Laws,” written in everyday language, will both please and educate you.
Frequent the theatre whenever Corneille, Racine, and Moliere’s pieces are played. They are according to nature and to truth. I do not mean by this to give an exclusion to several admirable modern plays, particularly “Cenie,”—[Imitated in English by Mr. Francis, in a play called “Eugenia.”]—replete with sentiments that are true, natural, and applicable to one’s self. If you choose to know the characters of people now in fashion, read Crebillon the younger, and Marivaux’s works. The former is a most excellent painter; the latter has studied, and knows the human heart, perhaps too well. Crebillon’s ‘Egaremens du Coeur et de l’Esprit is an excellent work in its kind; it will be of infinite amusement to you, and not totally useless. The Japanese history of “Tanzar and Neadarne,” by the same author, is an amiable extravagancy, interspersed with the most just reflections. In short, provided you do not mistake the objects of your attention, you will find matter at Paris to form a good and true taste.
Visit the theater whenever plays by Corneille, Racine, and Molière are performed. Their works reflect nature and truth. I don’t mean to overlook many wonderful modern plays, especially “Cenie,”—[which was adapted in English by Mr. Francis in a play called “Eugenia.”]—full of sentiments that are genuine, relatable, and relevant to your own life. If you want to understand the characters of people trending today, read the works of Crebillon the Younger and Marivaux. The former is an excellent storyteller; the latter has studied and understands the human heart, possibly too well. Crebillon’s ‘Egaremens du Coeur et de l’Esprit is a fantastic work in its genre; it will entertain you and be quite insightful. The Japanese story “Tanzar and Neadarne,” by the same author, is a delightful extravagance filled with fitting reflections. In short, as long as you don’t lose sight of what truly matters, you’ll find plenty in Paris to cultivate good and genuine taste.
As I shall let you remain at Paris without any person to direct your conduct, I flatter myself that you will not make a bad use of the confidence I repose in you. I do not require that you should lead the life of a Capuchin friar; quite the contrary: I recommend pleasures to you; but I expect that they shall be the pleasures of a gentleman. Those add brilliancy to a young man’s character; but debauchery vilifies and degrades it. I shall have very true and exact accounts of your conduct; and, according to the informations I receive, shall be more, or less, or not at all, yours. Adieu.
Since I'll be letting you stay in Paris without anyone to supervise you, I hope you won't misuse the trust I'm placing in you. I don't expect you to live like a Capuchin friar; in fact, I encourage you to enjoy yourself. However, I want to make sure that your pleasures reflect a gentleman's taste. Those enhance a young man's reputation, while debauchery only tarnishes and lowers it. I will receive honest and accurate reports about your behavior, and based on what I hear, my feelings toward you will vary—I'll be more supportive, less so, or possibly not at all. Take care.
P. S. Do not omit writing to me once a-week; and let your answer to this letter be in French. Connect yourself as much as possible with the foreign ministers; which is properly traveling into different countries, without going from one place. Speak Italian to all the Italians, and German to all the Germans you meet, in order not to forget those two languages.
P.S. Please don't forget to write to me once a week, and respond to this letter in French. Try to connect with the foreign ministers as much as you can; it's like traveling to different countries without leaving one spot. Speak Italian to all the Italians and German to all the Germans you meet, so you don't forget those two languages.
I wish you, my dear friend, as many happy new years as you deserve, and not one more. May you deserve a great number!
I wish you, my dear friend, as many happy new years as you deserve, and not one more. May you deserve a lot!
1751
LETTER CXXVI
LETTER 126
LONDON, January 8, O.S. 1751
LONDON, January 8, 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: By your letter of the 5th, N. S., I find that your ‘debut’ at Paris has been a good one; you are entered into good company, and I dare say you will, not sink into bad. Frequent the houses where you have been once invited, and have none of that shyness which makes most of your countrymen strangers, where they might be intimate and domestic if they pleased. Wherever you have a general invitation to sup when you please, profit of it, with decency, and go every now and then. Lord Albemarle will, I am sure, be extremely kind to you, but his house is only a dinner house; and, as I am informed, frequented by no French people. Should he happen to employ you in his bureau, which I much doubt, you must write a better hand than your common one, or you will get no credit by your manuscripts; for your hand is at present an illiberal one; it is neither a hand of business nor of a gentleman, but the hand of a school-boy writing his exercise, which he hopes will never be read.
MY DEAR FRIEND: From your letter dated the 5th, N. S., I see that your "debut" in Paris has gone well; you're mingling with good company, and I don’t doubt you’ll avoid falling into bad company. Keep visiting the places where you’ve been invited before, and don’t be shy like many of your fellow countrymen, who act like strangers when they could be more friendly and relaxed. Whenever you get a general invitation to dinner, make sure to take advantage of it decently and go occasionally. Lord Albemarle will surely be very kind to you, but his place is only for dinner and, as I’ve heard, there are no French people who go there. If he happens to give you a job in his office, which I seriously doubt, you need to write better than your usual handwriting. Otherwise, your manuscripts won’t earn you any respect; your current handwriting is rather unattractive—it's neither professional nor refined, more like a schoolboy’s writing that he hopes will never be seen.
Madame de Monconseil gives me a favorable account of you; and so do Marquis de Matignon and Madame du Boccage; they all say that you desire to please, and consequently promise me that you will; and they judge right; for whoever really desires to please, and has (as you now have) the means of learning how, certainly will please and that is the great point of life; it makes all other things easy. Whenever you are with Madame de Monconseil, Madame du Boccage, or other women of fashion, with whom you are tolerably free, say frankly and naturally: “I know little of the world; I am quite a novice in it; and although very desirous of pleasing, I am at a loss for the means. Be so good, Madame, as to let me into your secret of pleasing everybody. I shall owe my success to it, and you will always have more than falls to your share.” When, in consequence of this request, they shall tell you of any little error, awkwardness, or impropriety, you should not only feel, but express the warmest acknowledgment. Though nature should suffer, and she will at first hearing them, tell them, that you will look upon the most severe criticisms as the greatest proof of their friendship. Madame du Boccage tells me, particularly, to inform you: “I shall always, receive the honor of his visits with pleasure; it is true, that at his age the pleasures of conversation are cold; but I will endeavor to make him acquainted with young people,” etc.
Madame de Monconseil speaks highly of you, as do Marquis de Matignon and Madame du Boccage. They all say that you want to please, and they assure me that you will. They’re right in their judgment; anyone who genuinely wants to make others happy and has (like you do now) the ability to learn how to do so will definitely succeed, and that’s what really matters in life; it makes everything else easier. Whenever you’re with Madame de Monconseil, Madame du Boccage, or other fashionable women you feel comfortable with, be open and say: “I don’t know much about the world; I’m quite a novice at it; and even though I really want to please, I don’t know how. Please, Madame, share your secret for winning everyone over. I’ll owe my success to you, and you’ll always receive more than your fair share.” When, as a result of this request, they point out any small mistakes, awkwardness, or inappropriate behavior, make sure to feel and express your deepest gratitude. Even if you feel a bit hurt at first hearing their feedback, tell them you’ll consider even the harshest criticism as the highest sign of their friendship. Madame du Boccage specifically asked me to tell you: "I will always be happy to welcome him for a visit; it’s true that at his age, he might find conversations less stimulating, but I’ll try to introduce him to some young people," etc.
Make use of this invitation, and as you live, in a manner, next door to her, step in and out there frequently. Monsieur du Boccage will go with you, he tells me, with great pleasure, to the plays, and point out to you whatever deserves your knowing there. This is worth your acceptance too; he has a very good taste. I have not yet heard from Lady Hervey upon your subject; but as you inform me that you have already supped with her once, I look upon you as adopted by her; consult her in all your little matters; tell her any difficulties that may occur to you; ask her what you should do or say in such or such cases; she has ‘l’usage du monde en perfection’, and will help you to acquire it. Madame de Berkenrode ‘est paitrie de graces’, and your quotation is very applicable to her. You may be there, I dare say, as often as you please, and I would advise you to sup there once a week.
Take this invitation and since you live so close to her, make sure to visit frequently. Monsieur du Boccage has told me he’ll happily go with you to the plays and show you all the significant things worth knowing. You should definitely take him up on this; he has great taste. I haven’t yet heard from Lady Hervey about you, but since you mentioned that you’ve already had dinner with her once, I see you as being welcomed into her circle. Consult her about your little matters, share any difficulties you encounter, and ask her what to do or say in specific situations; she knows the ways of the world perfectly and can help you master them. Madame de Berkenrode is a true embodiment of charm, and your quote fits her very well. You can visit her as often as you'd like, and I suggest you have dinner there at least once a week.
You say, very justly, that as Mr. Harte is leaving you, you shall want advice more than ever; you shall never want mine; and as you have already had so much of it, I must rather repeat than add to what I have already given you; but that I will do, and add to it occasionally, as circumstances may require. At present I shall only remind you of your two great objects, which you should always attend to; they are parliament and foreign affairs. With regard to the former, you can do nothing while abroad but attend carefully to the purity, correctness, and elegance of your diction; the clearness and gracefulness of your utterance, in whatever language you speak. As for the parliamentary knowledge, I will take care of that when you come home. With regard to foreign affairs, everything you do abroad may and ought to tend that way. Your reading should be chiefly historical; I do not mean of remote, dark, and fabulous history, still less of jimcrack natural history of fossils, minerals, plants, etc., but I mean the useful, political, and constitutional history of Europe, for these last three centuries and a half. The other thing necessary for your foreign object, and not less necessary than either ancient or modern knowledge, is a great knowledge of the world, manners, politeness, address, and ‘le ton de la bonne compagnie’. In that view, keeping a great deal of good company, is the principal point to which you are now to attend. It seems ridiculous to tell you, but it is most certainly true, that your dancing-master is at this time the man in all Europe of the greatest importance to you. You must dance well, in order to sit, stand, and walk well; and you must do all these well in order to please. What with your exercises, some reading, and a great deal of company, your day is, I confess, extremely taken up; but the day, if well employed, is long enough for everything; and I am sure you will not slattern away one moment of it in inaction. At your age, people have strong and active spirits, alacrity and vivacity in all they do; are ‘impigri’, indefatigable, and quick. The difference is, that a young fellow of parts exerts all those happy dispositions in the pursuit of proper objects; endeavors to excel in the solid, and in the showish parts of life; whereas a silly puppy, or a dull rogue, throws away all his youth and spirit upon trifles, where he is serious or upon disgraceful vices, while he aims at pleasures. This I am sure will not be your case; your good sense and your good conduct hitherto are your guarantees with me for the future. Continue only at Paris as you have begun, and your stay there will make you, what I have always wished you to be, as near perfection as our nature permits.
You rightly say that with Mr. Harte leaving, you'll need advice more than ever; you’ll never lack mine. Since you’ve already received so much, I’ll mostly be repeating what I’ve already told you, but I’ll do that and add to it as circumstances demand. For now, I just want to remind you of the two main things you should always focus on: parliament and foreign affairs. Regarding the first, while you’re abroad, all you can do is pay close attention to the purity, accuracy, and elegance of your speech; make sure your expression is clear and graceful, no matter what language you’re using. I’ll handle the parliamentary knowledge when you return. As for foreign affairs, everything you do abroad should align with that goal. You should mainly read historical texts—not obscure, ancient, or mythical history, and definitely not trivial natural history about fossils or plants—but rather the useful political and constitutional history of Europe over the last three and a half centuries. Another important aspect for your foreign goals, just as necessary as both ancient and modern knowledge, is a strong understanding of the world, manners, politeness, social skills, and the “tone of good company.” Therefore, being around good company should be your main focus right now. It may sound silly, but it's absolutely true that your dancing instructor is currently one of the most important people for you in all of Europe. You need to dance well to sit, stand, and walk well; doing these things well is essential for making a good impression. Between your exercises, some reading, and a lot of socializing, your day is certainly packed; but if you use your time wisely, the day is long enough for everything, and I know you won’t waste a minute of it. At your age, people have strong, energetic spirits and enthusiasm in everything they do; they are eager, tireless, and quick. The difference is that a young person with talent channels that energy into pursuing worthy goals; they strive to excel in both meaningful and more superficial aspects of life, while a silly airhead or a dull person squanders their youth and energy on trivial pursuits or disgraceful vices while seeking pleasure. I’m sure that won’t be the case for you; your good judgment and conduct so far assure me of your future. Just continue in Paris as you’ve started, and your time there will make you as close to perfect as our nature allows.
Adieu, my dear; remember to write to me once a-week, not as to a father, but, without reserve, as to a friend.
Goodbye, my dear; remember to write to me once a week, not like you would to a father, but openly, like you would to a friend.
LETTER CXXVII
LONDON, January 14, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: Among the many good things Mr. Harte has told me of you, two in particular gave me great pleasure. The first, that you are exceedingly careful and jealous of the dignity of your character; that is the sure and solid foundation upon which you must both stand and rise. A man’s moral character is a more delicate thing than a woman’s reputation of chastity. A slip or two may possibly be forgiven her, and her character may be clarified by subsequent and continued good conduct: but a man’s moral character once tainted is irreparably destroyed. The second was, that you had acquired a most correct and extensive knowledge of foreign affairs, such as the history, the treaties, and the forms of government of the several countries of Europe. This sort of knowledge, little attended to here, will make you not only useful, but necessary, in your future destination, and carry you very far. He added that you wanted from hence some books relative to our laws and constitution, our colonies, and our commerce; of which you know less than of those of any other part of Europe. I will send you what short books I can find of that sort, to give you a general notion of those things: but you cannot have time to go into their depths at present—you cannot now engage with new folios; you and I will refer the constitutional part of this country to our meeting here, when we will enter seriously into it, and read the necessary books together. In the meantime, go on in the course you are in, of foreign matters; converse with ministers and others of every country, watch the transactions of every court, and endeavor to trace them up to their source. This, with your physics, your geometry, and your exercises, will be all that you can possibly have time for at Paris; for you must allow a great deal for company and pleasures: it is they that must give you those manners, that address, that ‘tournure’ of the ‘beau monde’, which will qualify you for your future destination. You must first please, in order to get the confidence, and consequently the secrets, of the courts and ministers for whom and with whom you negotiate.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Among the many positive things Mr. Harte has shared about you, two particularly brought me great joy. First, that you are very careful and protective of your character's dignity; this is the solid foundation on which you must stand and grow. A man’s moral character is more fragile than a woman’s reputation for chastity. She may be forgiven for a mistake or two, and her character can be restored through continued good behavior; but once a man’s moral character is damaged, it is irreparably lost. The second thing was that you’ve gained a thorough and extensive understanding of foreign affairs, including the history, treaties, and governmental structures of various European countries. This kind of knowledge, which is often overlooked here, will not only make you useful but essential in your future role, and will take you far. He mentioned that you need some books on our laws and constitution, our colonies, and our commerce, areas in which you know less than you do about other parts of Europe. I will send you whatever short books I can find on those topics to give you a general idea; however, you won’t have time to delve deeply into them right now—you can’t get into new thick volumes at this moment. You and I can discuss the constitutional aspects of this country when we meet here, and we will study the necessary books together. In the meantime, continue focusing on foreign matters; talk with ministers and others from every country, keep an eye on the activities of every court, and try to trace everything back to its origins. This, along with your studies in physics, geometry, and your exercises, will fill up all the time you can spare in Paris; you must also make time for socializing and enjoyment: these experiences will help you develop the manners, charm, and polish of the social elite, which will prepare you for your future role. You need to first gain their trust to access the confidence and secrets of the courts and ministers with whom you’ll be negotiating.
I will send you by the first opportunity a short book written by Lord Bolingbroke, under the name of Sir John Oldcastle, containing remarks upon the history of England; which will give you a clear general notion of our constitution, and which will serve you, at the same time, like all Lord Bolingbroke’s works, for a model of eloquence and style. I will also send you Sir Josiah Childe’s little book upon trade, which may properly be called the “Commercial Grammar.” He lays down the true principles of commerce, and his conclusions from them are generally very just.
I'll send you as soon as I can a short book written by Lord Bolingbroke, under the name Sir John Oldcastle, which has comments on the history of England. It will give you a clear overall understanding of our constitution and, like all of Lord Bolingbroke's works, will also serve as a model of eloquence and style. I'll also send you Sir Josiah Childe's little book on trade, which can rightly be called the “Commercial Grammar.” He outlines the true principles of commerce, and his conclusions are usually quite accurate.
Since you turn your thoughts a little toward trade and commerce, which I am very glad you do, I will recommend a French book to you, which you will easily get at Paris, and which I take to be the best book in the world of that kind: I mean the ‘Dictionnaire de Commerce de Savory’, in three volumes in folio; where you will find every one thing that relates to trade, commerce, specie, exchange, etc., most clearly stated; and not only relative to France, but to the whole world. You will easily suppose, that I do not advise you to read such a book ‘tout de suite’; but I only mean that you should have it at hand, to have recourse to occasionally.
Since you're starting to think a bit about trade and commerce, which I'm really glad to hear, I want to recommend a French book to you. You can easily find it in Paris, and I believe it's the best book of its kind: the ‘Dictionnaire de Commerce de Savory’, which comes in three large volumes. It covers everything related to trade, commerce, currency, exchange, and more, presented very clearly. It’s not just about France, but about the entire world. I’m not suggesting you read it all at once; I just think it would be useful to have it nearby to refer to when needed.
With this great stock of both useful and ornamental knowledge, which you have already acquired, and which, by your application and industry, you are daily increasing, you will lay such a solid foundation of future figure and fortune, that if you complete it by all the accomplishments of manners, graces, etc., I know nothing which you may not aim at, and in time hope for. Your great point at present at Paris, to which all other considerations must give way, is to become entirely a man of fashion: to be well-bred without ceremony, easy without negligence, steady and intrepid with modesty, genteel without affectation, insinuating without meanness, cheerful without being noisy, frank without indiscretion, and secret without mysteriousness; to know the proper time and place for whatever you say or do, and to do it with an air of condition all this is not so soon nor so easily learned as people imagine, but requires observation and time. The world is an immense folio, which demands a great deal of time and attention to be read and understood as it ought to be; you have not yet read above four or five pages of it; and you will have but barely time to dip now and then in other less important books.
With all the useful and interesting knowledge you've already gained, and which you are continuously expanding through your hard work and dedication, you will build a strong foundation for your future success and reputation. If you enhance this with all the social skills, charms, and refinements, I can't think of anything you won't be able to aspire to and eventually achieve. Your main focus right now in Paris, above all else, should be to become truly fashionable: to be refined without being stiff, relaxed without being careless, confident yet humble, stylish without being phony, charming without being cheap, upbeat without being loud, honest without being tactless, and discreet without being shady. You need to know the right time and place for everything you say and do, and to carry yourself with poise. This isn’t something you can pick up quickly or easily like many think; it takes careful observation and time. The world is like a vast book that requires a lot of time and attention to truly understand; you've only read about four or five pages of it so far, and you’ll just have enough time to occasionally glance at other less critical books.
Lord Albemarle has, I know, wrote {It is a pleasure for an ordinary mortal to find Lord Chesterfield in gramatical error—and he did it again in the last sentence of this paragraph—but this was 1751? D.W.} to a friend of his here, that you do not frequent him so much as he expected and desired; that he fears somebody or other has given you wrong impressions of him; and that I may possibly think, from your being seldom at his house, that he has been wanting in his attentions to you. I told the person who told me this, that, on the contrary, you seemed, by your letters to me, to be extremely pleased with Lord Albemarle’s behavior to you: but that you were obliged to give up dining abroad during your course of experimental philosophy. I guessed the true reason, which I believe was, that, as no French people frequent his house, you rather chose to dine at other places, where you were likely to meet with better company than your countrymen and you were in the right of it. However, I would have you show no shyness to Lord Albemarle, but go to him, and dine with him oftener than it may be you would wish, for the sake of having him speak well of you here when he returns. He is a good deal in fashion here, and his PUFFING you (to use an awkward expression) before you return here, will be of great use to you afterward. People in general take characters, as they do most things, upon trust, rather than be at the trouble of examining them themselves; and the decisions of four or five fashionable people, in every place, are final, more particularly with regard to characters, which all can hear, and but few judge of. Do not mention the least of this to any mortal; and take care that Lord Albemarle do not suspect that you know anything of the matter.
Lord Albemarle has, I know, written to a friend of his here that you don’t see him as often as he expected and wanted; he fears that someone has given you the wrong impression of him, and that I might think, because you’re rarely at his house, that he hasn’t been attentive to you. I told the person who mentioned this to me that, on the contrary, it seemed from your letters that you were very happy with Lord Albemarle’s treatment of you. But you had to give up dining out during your experimental philosophy course. I guessed the real reason, which I believe is that since no French people go to his house, you preferred to dine elsewhere, where you might meet better company than your fellow countrymen, and you were right to do so. Nonetheless, I suggest you shouldn’t hesitate to visit Lord Albemarle more, and dine with him more often than you might like, for the sake of having him speak highly of you when he returns. He’s quite popular here, and his endorsing you (to use an awkward term) before you come back will be very beneficial for you afterward. Generally, people take characters on trust, rather than go through the trouble of examining them themselves; and the opinions of a few fashionable people in any place are final, especially concerning reputations, which everyone hears and few judge for themselves. Don’t mention any of this to anyone, and be careful that Lord Albemarle doesn’t suspect you know anything about it.
Lord Huntingdon and Lord Stormount are, I hear, arrived at Paris; you have, doubtless, seen them. Lord Stormount is well spoken of here; however, in your connections, if you form any with them, show rather a preference to Lord Huntingdon, for reasons which you will easily guess.
Lord Huntingdon and Lord Stormount have, I hear, arrived in Paris; you’ve probably seen them. Lord Stormount has a good reputation here; however, if you make any connections with them, it’s better to lean towards Lord Huntingdon, for reasons you can easily figure out.
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.
Mr. Harte is going to Cornwall this week to take over his position; he has been set up at Windsor and will be back here in about a month. That's when your regular literary correspondence with him will start. It was a positive sign for both of you that you were concerned about parting.
I have this moment received good accounts of you from Paris. Go on ‘vous etes en bon train’. Adieu.
I just got a good update about you from Paris. Keep it up, you're doing well. Bye for now.
LETTER CXXVIII
LONDON, January 21, O. S.. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: In all my letters from Paris, I have the pleasure of finding, among many other good things, your docility mentioned with emphasis; this is the sure way of improving in those things, which you only want. It is true they are little, but it is as true too that they are necessary things. As they are mere matters of usage and mode, it is no disgrace for anybody of your age to be ignorant of them; and the most compendious way of learning them is, fairly to avow your ignorance, and to consult those who, from long usage and experience, know them best. Good sense and good-nature suggest civility in general; but, in good-breeding there are a thousand little delicacies, which are established only by custom; and it is these little elegances of manners which distinguish a courtier and a man of fashion from the vulgar. I am assured by different people, that your air is already much improved; and one of my correspondents makes you the true French compliment of saying, ‘F’ose vous promettre qu’il sera bientot comme un de nos autres’. However unbecoming this speech may be in the mouth of a Frenchman, I am very glad that they think it applicable to you; for I would have you not only adopt, but rival, the best manners and usages of the place you are at, be they what they will; that is the versatility of manners which is so useful in the course of the world. Choose your models well at Paris, and then rival them in their own way. There are fashionable words, phrases, and even gestures, at Paris, which are called ‘du bon ton’; not to mention ‘certaines Petites politesses et attentions, qui ne sont rien en elle-memes’, which fashion has rendered necessary. Make yourself master of all these things; and to such a degree, as to make the French say, ‘qu’on diroit que c’est un Francois’; and when hereafter you shall be at other courts, do the same thing there; and conform to the fashionable manners and usage of the place; that is what the French themselves are not apt to do; wherever they go, they retain their own manners, as thinking them the best; but, granting them to be so, they are still in the wrong not to conform to those of the place. One would desire to please, wherever one is; and nothing is more innocently flattering than an approbation, and an imitation of the people one converses with.
MY DEAR FRIEND: In all my letters from Paris, I’m happy to see your willingness to learn highlighted among many other great things. This is the best way to improve in the areas you want to. It's true these things are small, but they are also essential. Since they are just matters of custom and style, it’s not embarrassing for someone your age to not know them; the quickest way to learn is to admit your ignorance and ask those who have a lot of experience with them. Common sense and kindness suggest general politeness, but in good manners, there are countless little details established only by custom; it’s these subtle nuances of behavior that set apart a courtier and a fashionable person from the ordinary crowd. I've heard from various people that your demeanor has already improved a lot; one correspondent even gave you the true French compliment saying, ‘I can promise you’ll soon be like one of us.’ While this might sound inappropriate coming from a French person, I’m really glad they think it relates to you; I want you to not only embrace but also compete with the best manners and customs of the place you’re in, whatever they may be; that's the adaptability of manners that is so beneficial in life. Choose your role models wisely in Paris, and then strive to match them in their own style. There are trendy words, phrases, and even gestures in Paris known as ‘du bon ton’; not to mention ‘certain little politesse and attentions, which are nothing in themselves,’ but fashion has made them essential. Master all these things to the point where the French would say, ‘you’d think he’s one of us’; and when you’re at other courts in the future, do the same there and fit in with the fashionable manners and customs of the place; this is something the French themselves often fail to do; wherever they go, they hold onto their own ways, believing them to be the best; but even if they are, they’re still wrong not to adapt to local customs. One naturally wants to please wherever they are, and nothing is more innocently flattering than receiving approval and imitating the people one interacts with.
I hope your colleges with Marcel go on prosperously. In these ridiculous, though, at the same time, really important lectures, pray attend, and desire your professor also to attend, more particularly to the chapter of the arms. It is they that decide of a man’s being genteel or otherwise, more than any other part of the body. A twist or stiffness in the wrist, will make any man in Europe look awkward. The next thing to be attended to is, your coming into a room, and presenting yourself to a company. This gives the first impression; and the first impression is often a lasting one. Therefore, pray desire Professor Marcel to make you come in and go out of his room frequently, and in the supposition of different companies being there; such as ministers, women, mixed companies, etc. Those who present themselves well, have a certain dignity in their air, which, without the least seeming mixture of pride, at once engages, and is respected.
I hope your sessions with Marcel go really well. In these seemingly silly, yet genuinely important lectures, please pay attention, and ask your professor to do the same, especially regarding the chapter on posture. It's what defines a person's elegance more than any other aspect. A twist or stiffness in the wrist can make anyone in Europe seem awkward. The next thing to focus on is how you enter a room and present yourself to a group. This creates the first impression, and first impressions often stick. So, please ask Professor Marcel to have you come in and out of his room regularly, imagining different groups are there, like ministers, women, mixed crowds, etc. Those who present themselves well have a certain dignity that, without any hint of arrogance, instantly draws people in and earns their respect.
I should not so often repeat, nor so long dwell upon such trifles, with anybody that had less solid and valuable knowledge than you have. Frivolous people attend to those things, ‘par preference’; they know nothing else; my fear with you is, that, from knowing better things, you should despise these too much, and think them of much less consequence than they really are; for they are of a great deal, and more especially to you.
I shouldn't keep bringing up or spending so much time on trivial things with anyone who doesn't have as much solid and valuable knowledge as you do. Frivolous people focus on those things by preference; they don’t know anything else. My concern with you is that, because you know more important things, you might look down on these too much and think they matter less than they actually do, because they really do matter a lot, especially to you.
Pleasing and governing women may, in time, be of great service to you. They often please and govern others. ‘A propos’, are you in love with Madame de Berkenrode still, or has some other taken her place in your affections? I take it for granted, that ‘qua to cumque domat Venus, non erubescendis adurit ignibus. Un arrangement honnete sied bien a un galant homme’. In that case I recommend to you the utmost discretion, and the profoundest silence. Bragging of, hinting at, intimating, or even affectedly disclaiming and denying such an arrangement will equally discredit you among men and women. An unaffected silence upon that subject is the only true medium.
Pleasing and managing women may, in time, be very beneficial for you. They often please and manage others too. By the way, are you still in love with Madame de Berkenrode, or has someone else taken her place in your heart? I assume that "whoever Venus tames, she doesn’t blush with her burning fires." A respectable arrangement suits a charming man well. In that case, I suggest you exercise the utmost discretion and maintain deep silence. Bragging about, hinting at, suggesting, or even pretending to deny such an arrangement will equally undermine your reputation with both men and women. A genuine silence on that topic is the only true approach.
In your commerce with women, and indeed with men too, ‘une certaine douceur’ is particularly engaging; it is that which constitutes that character which the French talk of so much, and so justly value, I mean ‘l’aimable’. This ‘douceur’ is not so easily described as felt. It is the compound result of different things; a complaisance, a flexibility, but not a servility of manners; an air of softness in the countenance, gesture, and expression, equally whether you concur or differ with the person you converse with. Observe those carefully who have that ‘douceur’ that charms you and others; and your own good sense will soon enable you to discover the different ingredients of which it is composed. You must be more particularly attentive to this ‘douceur’, whenever you are obliged to refuse what is asked of you, or to say what in itself cannot be very agreeable to those to whom you say it. It is then the necessary gilding of a disagreeable pill. ‘L’aimable’ consists in a thousand of these little things aggregately. It is the ‘suaviter in modo’, which I have so often recommended to you. The respectable, Mr. Harte assures me, you do not want, and I believe him. Study, then, carefully; and acquire perfectly, the ‘Aimable’, and you will have everything.
In your interactions with women, and honestly with men too, a certain charm is especially appealing; it’s what makes up that quality the French talk about so much and value highly, namely, being 'lovable.' This charm isn't easy to define but is definitely something you can feel. It’s a mix of various traits: politeness, adaptability, but not being overly subservient; a softness in your face, gestures, and expressions, no matter whether you agree or disagree with the person you’re talking to. Pay close attention to those who have that attractive charm that captivates you and others; your own good judgment will quickly help you identify the different elements that make it up. You should be especially mindful of this charm whenever you have to decline a request or say something that won’t be very pleasant for those listening. It’s the essential coating that makes a bitter pill easier to swallow. Being lovable consists of a multitude of these small things combined. It’s the 'kindness in manner' that I’ve recommended to you many times. Mr. Harte assures me that you don’t lack respect, and I trust him. So, study this carefully; master being lovable, and you will have everything.
Abbe Guasco, who is another of your panegyrists, writes me word that he has taken you to dinner at Marquis de St. Germain’s; where you will be welcome as often as you please, and the oftener the better. Profit of that, upon the principle of traveling in different countries, without changing places. He says, too, that he will take you to the parliament, when any remarkable cause is to be tried. That is very well; go through the several chambers of the parliament, and see and hear what they are doing; join practice and observation to your theoretical knowledge of their rights and privileges. No Englishman has the least notion of them.
Abbe Guasco, one of your admirers, told me that he has taken you to dinner at Marquis de St. Germain’s, where you’re welcome anytime, and the more often, the better. Make the most of that, like traveling to different countries without having to change locations. He also mentioned that he’ll take you to parliament when there’s an interesting case being heard. That sounds great; explore the different chambers of parliament and see firsthand what’s going on. Combine practical experience with your theoretical knowledge of their rights and privileges. No Englishman has any real understanding of them.
I need not recommend you to go to the bottom of the constitutional and political knowledge of countries; for Mr. Harte tells me that you have a peculiar turn that way, and have informed yourself most correctly of them.
I don’t need to suggest that you thoroughly explore the constitutional and political knowledge of countries; Mr. Harte has told me that you have a natural interest in that area and have informed yourself quite well about them.
I must now put some queries to you, as to a ‘juris publici peritus’, which I am sure you can answer me, and which I own I cannot answer myself; they are upon a subject now much talked of.
I need to ask you some questions, as an expert in public law, which I believe you can answer but I admit I cannot; they are about a topic that everyone is currently discussing.
1st. Are there any particular forms requisite for the election of a King of the Romans, different from those which are necessary for the election of an Emperor?
1st. Are there any specific forms needed for the election of a King of the Romans that are different from those required for the election of an Emperor?
2d. Is not a King of the Romans as legally elected by the votes of a majority of the electors, as by two-thirds, or by the unanimity of the electors?
2d. Is a King of the Romans not legally elected by the votes of a majority of the electors, by two-thirds, or by the unanimous agreement of the electors?
3d. Is there any particular law or constitution of the empire, that distinguishes, either in matter or in, form, the election of a King of the Romans from that of an Emperor? And is not the golden bull of Charles the Fourth equally the rule for both?
3d. Is there any specific law or constitution of the empire that distinguishes, whether in substance or in form, the election of a King of the Romans from that of an Emperor? And isn't the golden bull of Charles the Fourth the same rule for both?
4th. Were there not, at a meeting of a certain number of the electors (I have forgotten when), some rules and limitations agreed upon concerning the election of a King of the Romans? And were those restrictions legal, and did they obtain the force of law?
4th. Wasn’t there, at a meeting of some of the voters (I can’t remember when), some rules and limitations agreed upon regarding the election of a King of the Romans? And were those restrictions legal, and did they have the force of law?
How happy am I, my dear child, that I can apply to you for knowledge, and with a certainty of being rightly informed! It is knowledge, more than quick, flashy parts, that makes a man of business. A man who is master of his matter, twill, with inferior parts, be too hard in parliament, and indeed anywhere else, for a man of-better parts, who knows his subject but superficially: and if to his knowledge he joins eloquence and elocution, he must necessarily soon be at the head of that assembly; but without those two, no knowledge is sufficient.
How happy am I, my dear child, that I can come to you for knowledge, knowing that you'll give me the right information! It's knowledge, more than quick, flashy skills, that truly makes someone successful in business. A person who fully understands their subject will easily outshine someone with superior skills but only a superficial grasp of the topic, especially in parliament and in other situations. And if he combines his knowledge with eloquence and the ability to communicate well, he will inevitably rise to the top of that group; but without those two, no amount of knowledge is enough.
Lord Huntingdon writes me word that he has seen you, and that you have renewed your old school-acquaintance.
Lord Huntingdon let me know that he has seen you and that you have reconnected with your old school friend.
Tell me fairly your opinion of him, and of his friend Lord Stormount: and also of the other English people of fashion you meet with. I promise you inviolable secrecy on my part. You and I must now write to each other —as friends, and without the least reserve; there will for the future be a thousand-things in my letters, which I would not have any mortal living but yourself see or know. Those you will easily distinguish, and neither show nor repeat; and I will do the same by you.
Tell me honestly what you think of him and his friend Lord Stormount, as well as the other fashionable English people you come across. I promise to keep everything you say completely confidential. From now on, we should write to each other as friends, without holding anything back; there will be many things in my letters that I wouldn’t want anyone else to see or know. You'll be able to tell which ones they are, and just keep them to yourself; I’ll do the same for you.
To come to another subject (for I have a pleasure in talking over every subject with you): How deep are you in Italian? Do you understand Ariosto, Tasso, Boccaccio and Machiavelli? If you do, you know enough of it and may know all the rest, by reading, when you have time. Little or no business is written in Italian, except in Italy; and if you know enough of it to understand the few Italian letters that may in time come in your way, and to speak Italian tolerably to those very few Italians who speak no French, give yourself no further trouble about that language till you happen to have full leisure to perfect yourself in it. It is not the same with regard to German; your speaking and writing it well, will particularly distinguish you from every other man in England; and is, moreover, of great use to anyone who is, as probably you will be, employed in the Empire. Therefore, pray cultivate them sedulously, by writing four or five lines of German every day, and by speaking it to every German you meet with.
To switch to another topic (since I enjoy discussing everything with you): How well do you know Italian? Can you understand Ariosto, Tasso, Boccaccio, and Machiavelli? If so, you know enough and can learn the rest by reading whenever you have time. Little to no business is conducted in Italian outside of Italy; if you know enough to understand a few Italian letters that might come your way and to speak Italian reasonably well to the few Italians who don’t speak French, then don't bother stressing about the language until you have more time to improve. It's different with German; being able to speak and write it well will really set you apart from others in England, and it’s also very useful if you, as I expect, work in the Empire. So, please practice diligently by writing four or five lines of German every day and by speaking it to every German you come across.
You have now got a footing in a great many good houses at Paris, in which I advise you to make yourself domestic. This is to be done by a certain easiness of carriage, and a decent familiarity. Not by way of putting yourself upon the frivolous footing of being ‘sans consequence’, but by doing in some degree, the honors of the house and table, calling yourself ‘en badinant le galopin d’ici’, saying to the masters or mistress, ‘ceci est de mon departement; je m’en charge; avouez, que je m’en acquitte a merveille.’ This sort of ‘badinage’ has something engaging and ‘liant’ in it, and begets that decent familiarity, which it is both agreeable and useful to establish in good houses and with people of fashion. Mere formal visits, dinners, and suppers, upon formal invitations, are not the thing; they add to no connection nor information; but it is the easy, careless ingress and egress at all hours, that forms the pleasing and profitable commerce of life.
You’ve now made connections with many good families in Paris, and I recommend you settle in with them. This should be done with a relaxed demeanor and a friendly familiarity. Not by acting like you’re unimportant, but by taking on some responsibilities at their home and table, referring to yourself as “just the local guy,” and saying to the hosts, “this is my area; I’ll handle it; admit it, I’m doing a great job.” This kind of playful banter is charming and creates a comfortable familiarity, which is both enjoyable and beneficial to establish with respectable people. Just paying formal visits, attending dinners, and getting invited for meals doesn’t really create meaningful connections or understanding; it’s the easy, casual coming and going at any time that builds the enjoyable and rewarding social interactions in life.
The post is so negligent, that I lose some letters from Paris entirely, and receive others much later than I should. To this I ascribe my having received no letter from you for above a fortnight, which to my impatience seems a long time. I expect to hear from you once a-week. Mr. Harte is gone to Cornwall, and will be back in about three weeks. I have a packet of books to send you by the first opportunity, which I believe will be Mr. Yorke’s return to Paris. The Greek books come from Mr. Harte, and the English ones from your humble servant. Read Lord Bolingbroke’s with great attention, as well to the style as to the matter. I wish you could form yourself such a style in every language. Style is the dress of thoughts; and a well-dressed thought, like a well-dressed man, appears to great advantage. Yours. Adieu.
The mail is so unreliable that I completely miss some letters from Paris and get others much later than I should. I blame this for not receiving any letters from you for over two weeks, which feels like a long time to my impatience. I expect to hear from you once a week. Mr. Harte has gone to Cornwall and will be back in about three weeks. I have a package of books to send you at the first opportunity, which I believe will be when Mr. Yorke returns to Paris. The Greek books are from Mr. Harte, and the English ones are from your humble servant. Pay close attention to Lord Bolingbroke’s writing, both the style and the content. I wish you could develop such a style in every language. Style is the outfit of thoughts; and a well-presented thought, like a well-dressed person, stands out nicely. Yours. Goodbye.
LETTER CXXIX
LONDON, August 28, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: A bill for ninety pounds sterling was brought me the other day, said to be drawn upon me by you: I scrupled paying it at first, not upon account of the sum, but because you had sent me no letter of advice, which is always done in those transactions; and still more, because I did not perceive that you had signed it. The person who presented it, desired me to look again, and that I should discover your name at the bottom: accordingly I looked again, and, with the help of my magnifying glass, did perceive that what I had first taken only for somebody’s mark, was, in truth, your name, written in the worst and smallest hand I ever saw in my life.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The other day, I received a bill for ninety pounds sterling, supposedly drawn by you. At first, I hesitated to pay it, not because of the amount, but because you hadn’t sent me a letter of advice, which is normally done in these situations. Additionally, I didn't see your signature on it. The person who brought it to me urged me to look again, claiming I would find your name at the bottom. So, I took another look, and with my magnifying glass, I realized that what I initially thought was just some mark was actually your name, written in the tiniest and worst handwriting I’ve ever seen.
However, I paid it at a venture; though I would almost rather lose the money, than that such a signature should be yours. All gentlemen, and all men of business, write their names always in the same way, that their signature may be so well known as not to be easily counterfeited; and they generally sign in rather larger character than their common hand; whereas your name was in a less, and a worse, than your common writing. This suggested to me the various accidents which may very probably happen to you, while you write so ill. For instance, if you were to write in such a character to the Secretary’s office, your letter would immediately be sent to the decipherer, as containing matters of the utmost secrecy, not fit to be trusted to the common character. If you were to write so to an antiquarian, he (knowing you to be a man of learning) would certainly try it by the Runic, Celtic, or Sclavonian alphabet, never suspecting it to be a modern character. And, if you were to send a ‘poulet’ to a fine woman, in such a hand, she would think that it really came from the ‘poulailler’; which, by the bye, is the etymology of the word ‘poulet’; for Henry the Fourth of France used to send billets-doux to his mistresses by his ‘poulailler’, under pretense of sending them chickens; which gave the name of poulets to those short, but expressive manuscripts. I have often told you that every man who has the use of his eyes and of his hand, can write whatever hand he pleases; and it is plain that you can, since you write both the Greek and German characters, which you never learned of a writing-master, extremely well, though your common hand, which you learned of a master, is an exceedingly bad and illiberal one; equally unfit for business or common use. I do not desire that you should write the labored, stiff character of a writing-master: a man of business must write quick and well, and that depends simply upon use. I would therefore advise you to get some very good writing-master at Paris, and apply to it for a month only, which will be sufficient; for, upon my word, the writing of a genteel plain hand of business is of much more importance than you think. You will say, it may be, that when you write so very ill, it is because you are in a hurry, to which I answer, Why are you ever in a hurry? A man of sense may be in haste, but can never be in a hurry, because he knows that whatever he does in a hurry, he must necessarily do very ill. He may be in haste to dispatch an affair, but he will care not to let that haste hinder his doing it well. Little minds are in a hurry, when the object proves (as it commonly does) too big for them; they run, they hare, they puzzle, confound, and perplex themselves: they want to do everything at once, and never do it at all. But a man of sense takes the time necessary for doing the thing he is about, well; and his haste to dispatch a business only appears by the continuity of his application to it: he pursues it with a cool steadiness, and finishes it before he begins any other. I own your time is much taken up, and you have a great many different things to do; but remember that you had much better do half of them well and leave the other half undone, than do them all indifferently. Moreover, the few seconds that are saved in the course of the day, by writing ill instead of well, do not amount to an object of time by any means equivalent to the disgrace or ridicule of writing the scrawl of a common whore. Consider, that if your very bad writing could furnish me with matter of ridicule, what will it not do to others who do not view you in that partial light that I do? There was a pope, I think it was Cardinal Chigi, who was justly ridiculed for his attention to little things, and his inability in great ones: and therefore called maximus in minimis, and minimus in maximis. Why? Because he attended to little things when he had great ones to do. At this particular period of your life, and at the place you are now in, you have only little things to do; and you should make it habitual to you to do them well, that they may require no attention from you when you have, as I hope you will have, greater things to mind. Make a good handwriting familiar to you now, that you may hereafter have nothing but your matter to think of, when you have occasion to write to kings and ministers. Dance, dress, present yourself, habitually well now, that you may have none of those little things to think of hereafter, and which will be all necessary to be done well occasionally, when you will have greater things to do.
However, I reluctantly paid it; I'd almost prefer to lose the money than have such a signature be yours. All gentlemen and businesspeople write their names in a consistent manner so that their signatures are easily recognized and hard to forge; they usually sign in a larger format than their regular handwriting. In contrast, your name was in a smaller and worse style than your usual writing. This made me think about all the potential mishaps that could happen to you if you write so poorly. For example, if you wrote to the Secretary’s office in such a style, your letter would be quickly sent to the decipherer as it would be assumed to contain top-secret information unfit for normal handwriting. If you wrote like that to an antiquarian, he would likely try to decipher it using the Runic, Celtic, or Slavic alphabets, never suspecting it to be modern writing. And if you sent a letter to a refined woman in that hand, she would assume it genuinely came from the chicken coop; by the way, that’s where the word 'poulet' comes from. Henry IV of France used to send love notes to his mistresses disguised as chicken deliveries, which led to those short but expressive notes being called 'poulets'. I've often told you that anyone who can see and write can write however they wish, and it’s clear you can since you write both Greek and German characters very well, although your regular handwriting, which you learned from a master, is terrible and unrefined, unsuitable for business or everyday use. I don’t expect you to write the rigid, formal style of a writing master; a person in business needs to write quickly and well, which just requires practice. So, I suggest you find a good writing instructor in Paris and put in just a month’s effort; that should be enough. Honestly, writing in a neat, businesslike style is more important than you might think. You might argue that when your handwriting is awful, it’s because you’re in a rush, to which I respond, why are you ever in a rush? A sensible person might be hurried but should never be in a rush because he knows that anything rushed will turn out poorly. He may be eager to finish a task but will ensure that his haste doesn’t compromise the quality of his work. Small-minded people rush when they encounter challenges (which is often the case); they scramble, confuse, and overwhelm themselves, trying to do everything at once but failing to accomplish anything. However, a wise person takes the necessary time to complete each task well; his urgency shows through his consistent focus, moving steadily through tasks until each one is completed before starting another. I understand your time is precious and you have many different commitments, but keep in mind that it’s far better to do half of them well and leave the other half unfinished than to do everything poorly. Additionally, the few seconds you save throughout the day by writing poorly instead of well don't compare to the embarrassment or mockery that comes from writing in the scrawl of someone unrefined. Think about it: if your bad handwriting gives me material for ridicule, what will it do to others who don’t see you through the same lens I do? There was a pope, I believe Cardinal Chigi, who was ridiculed for focusing on trivial things while failing in significant tasks; he was called 'maximus in minimis' and 'minimus in maximis' for that reason. Why? Because he focused on small matters when he had larger ones to address. At this particular stage of your life and in your current situation, you only have minor tasks to complete; you should make it a habit to execute them well so they won’t demand your attention when you hopefully have greater responsibilities. Cultivate good handwriting now so that later, when you need to write to kings and ministers, you can focus solely on your message. Dance, dress, and present yourself well now so that you won't have to worry about these little details later, especially when you have more important things to tackle.
As I am eternally thinking of everything that can be relative to you, one thing has occurred to me, which I think necessary to mention to you, in order to prevent the difficulties which it might otherwise lay you under; it is this as you get more acquaintances at Paris, it will be impossible for you to frequent your first acquaintances so much as you did, while you had no others. As, for example, at your first ‘debut’, I suppose you were chiefly at Madame Monconseil’s, Lady Hervey’s, and Madame du Boccage’s. Now, that you have got so many other houses, you cannot be at theirs so often as you used; but pray take care not to give them the least reason to think that you neglect, or despise them, for the sake of new and more dignified and shining acquaintances; which would be ungrateful and imprudent on your part, and never forgiven on theirs. Call upon them often, though you do not stay with them so long as formerly; tell them that you are sorry you are obliged to go away, but that you have such and such engagements, with which good-breeding obliges you to comply; and insinuate that you would rather stay with them. In short, take care to make as many personal friends, and as few personal enemies, as possible. I do not mean, by personal friends, intimate and confidential friends, of which no man can hope to have half a dozen in the whole course of his life; but I mean friends, in the common acceptation of the word; that is, people who speak well of you, and who would rather do you good than harm, consistently with their own interest, and no further. Upon the whole, I recommend to you, again and again, ‘les Graces’. Adorned by them, you may, in a manner, do what you please; it will be approved of; without them, your best qualities will lose half their efficacy. Endeavor to be fashionable among the French, which will soon make you fashionable here. Monsieur de Matignon already calls you ‘le petit Francois’. If you can get that name generally at Paris, it will put you ‘a la mode’. Adieu, my dear child.
As I constantly think about everything that relates to you, one thing has come to my mind that I need to mention to you to avoid any issues it might cause; it’s this: as you make more friends in Paris, you won’t be able to visit your earliest friends as much as you did when you had no one else. For instance, at your first ‘debut’, I assume you spent most of your time at Madame Monconseil’s, Lady Hervey’s, and Madame du Boccage’s. Now that you have so many other places to go, you can’t see them as often as before, but please be careful not to give them any reason to think you’re neglecting or looking down on them for the sake of new, more prestigious acquaintances; that would be ungrateful and unwise on your part, and they would never forgive you. Visit them frequently, even if you can’t stay as long as you used to; let them know you’re sorry to leave but that you have other commitments that require your attention, suggesting that you’d prefer to stay with them. In short, try to make as many friends as possible while making as few enemies as you can. By friends, I mean not just intimate and close friends, as no one can hope to have more than a handful of those in their entire life, but rather friends in the general sense; these are people who speak well of you and would rather help you than harm you, as long as it aligns with their own interests. Overall, I recommend, over and over again, ‘les Graces’. With them, you can practically do whatever you want and it will be well-received; without them, your best qualities will lose much of their impact. Strive to be fashionable among the French, and that will soon make you fashionable here. Monsieur de Matignon already calls you ‘le petit Francois’. If that nickname catches on widely in Paris, it will set you ‘a la mode’. Goodbye, my dear child.
LETTER CXXX
LONDON, February 4, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: The accounts which I receive of you from Paris grow every day more and more satisfactory. Lord Albemarle has wrote a sort of panegyric of you, which has been seen by many people here, and which will be a very useful forerunner for you. Being in fashion is an important point for anybody anywhere; but it would be a very great one for you to be established in the fashion here before you return. Your business will be half done by it, as I am sure you would not give people reason to change their favorable presentiments of you. The good that is said of you will not, I am convinced, make you a coxcomb; and, on the other hand, the being thought still to want some little accomplishments, will, I am persuaded, not mortify you, but only animate you to acquire them: I will, therefore, give you both fairly, in the following extract of a letter which I lately received from an impartial and discerning friend:—
MY DEAR FRIEND: The news I hear about you from Paris gets better and better every day. Lord Albemarle has written a sort of tribute to you, which many people here have seen, and it will be very beneficial for you. Being in style is important for anyone anywhere, but it would be especially significant for you to establish yourself in the fashion here before you return. It would make your work much easier, as I’m sure you wouldn’t give anyone a reason to change their positive opinions about you. I’m convinced that the good things said about you won’t make you vain; on the other hand, being thought to lack a few minor skills shouldn’t embarrass you, but rather motivate you to develop them. So, I will give you both sides honestly in the following excerpt from a letter I recently received from a fair and insightful friend:—
“Permit me to assure you, Sir, that Mr. Stanhope will succeed. He has a great fund of knowledge, and an uncommonly good memory, although he does not make any parade of either the one or the other. He is desirous of pleasing, and he will please. He has an expressive countenance; his figure is elegant, although little. He has not the least awkwardness, though he has not as yet acquired all-the graces requisite; which Marcel and the ladies will soon give him. In short, he wants nothing but those things, which, at his age, must unavoidably be wanting; I mean, a certain turn and delicacy of manners, which are to be acquired only by time, and in good company. Ready as he is, he will soon learn them; particularly as he frequents such companies as are the most proper to give them.”
"Let me assure you, Sir, that Mr. Stanhope will succeed. He has a wealth of knowledge and an exceptionally good memory, though he doesn't show off either. He genuinely wants to please, and he will. He has an expressive face; his figure is elegant, though small. He has no awkwardness, even though he hasn't yet gotten all the necessary graces, which Marcel and the ladies will soon teach him. In short, all he lacks are those qualities that, at his age, are just naturally missing; I mean a certain style and refinement, which can only come with time and good company. Given his readiness, he'll pick them up quickly, especially as he spends time with the right people."
By this extract, which I can assure you is a faithful one, you and I have both of us the satisfaction of knowing how much you have, and how little you want. Let what you have give you (if possible) rather more SEEMING modesty, but at the same time more interior firmness and assurance; and let what you want, which you see is very attainable, redouble your attention and endeavors to acquire it. You have, in truth, but that one thing to apply to and a very pleasing application it is, since it is through pleasures you must arrive at it. Company, suppers, balls, spectacles, which show you the models upon which you should form yourself, and all the little usages, customs, and delicacies, which you must adopt and make habitual to you, are now your only schools and universities; in which young fellows and fine women will give you the best lectures.
With this excerpt, which I promise is an accurate one, you and I can both take comfort in knowing how much you have and how little you desire. Let what you possess inspire you (if possible) to display a bit more modesty while also instilling in you more inner strength and confidence; and let what you want, which is clearly within reach, motivate you to focus more and put in the effort to achieve it. You really have just that one goal to pursue, and it's a very enjoyable pursuit since it's through pleasures that you'll reach it. Social gatherings, dinners, parties, and events that showcase the examples you should emulate are now your main sources of education; in these settings, young men and elegant women will provide you with the best lessons.
Monsieur du Boccage is another of your panegyrists; and he tells me that Madame Boccage ‘a pris avec vous le ton de mie et de bonne’; and that you like it very well. You are in the right of it; it is the way of improving; endeavor to be upon that footing with every woman you converse with; excepting where there may be a tender point of connection; a point which I have nothing to do with; but if such a one there is, I hope she has not ‘de mauvais ni de vilains bras’, which I agree with you in thinking a very disagreeable thing.
Monsieur du Boccage is another one of your admirers, and he tells me that Madame Boccage has started talking to you in a friendly and warm manner, which you seem to enjoy. You're absolutely right; it's a great way to better yourself. Try to keep that tone with every woman you talk to, unless there's some special connection involved—I have nothing to do with that. But if there is such a connection, I hope she doesn't have "bad or unpleasant arms," which I agree with you is quite off-putting.
I have sent you, by the opportunity of Pollok the courier, who was once my servant, two little parcels of Greek and English books; and shall send you two more by Mr. Yorke: but I accompany them with this caution, that as you have not much time to read, you should employ it in reading what is the most necessary, and that is, indisputably modern historical, geographical, chronological, and political knowledge; the present constitution, maxims, force, riches, trade, commerce, characters, parties, and cabals of the several courts of Europe. Many who are reckoned good scholars, though they know pretty accurately the governments of Athens and Rome, are totally ignorant of the constitution of any one country now in Europe, even of their own. Read just Latin and Greek enough to keep up your classical learning, which will be an ornament to you while young, and a comfort to you when old. But the true useful knowledge, and especially for you, is the modern knowledge above mentioned. It is that must qualify you both for domestic and foreign business, and it is to that, therefore, that you should principally direct your attention; and I know, with great pleasure, that you do so. I would not thus commend you to yourself, if I thought commendations would have upon you those ill effects, which they frequently have upon weak minds. I think you are much above being a vain coxcomb, overrating your own merit, and insulting others with the superabundance of it. On the contrary, I am convinced that the consciousness of merit makes a man of sense more modest, though more firm. A man who displays his own merit is a coxcomb, and a man who does not know it is a fool. A man of sense knows it, exerts it, avails himself of it, but never boasts of it; and always SEEMS rather to under than over value it, though in truth, he sets the right value upon it. It is a very true maxim of La Bruyere’s (an author well worth your studying), ‘qu’on ne vaut dans ce monde, que ce que l’on veut valoir’. A man who is really diffident, timid, and bashful, be his merit what it will, never can push himself in the world; his despondency throws him into inaction; and the forward, the bustling, and the petulant, will always get the better of him. The manner makes the whole difference. What would be impudence in one manner, is only a proper and decent assurance in another. A man of sense, and of knowledge in the world, will assert his own rights, and pursue his own objects, as steadily and intrepidly as the most impudent man living, and commonly more so; but then he has art enough to give an outward air of modesty to all he does. This engages and prevails, while the very same things shock and fail, from the overbearing or impudent manner only of doing them. I repeat my maxim, ‘Suaviter in modo, sed fortiter in re’. Would you know the characters, modes and manners of the latter end of the last age, which are very like those of the present, read La Bruyere. But would you know man, independently of modes, read La Rochefoucault, who, I am afraid, paints him very exactly.
I’ve sent you two small packages of Greek and English books through Pollok the courier, who used to work for me. I’ll send you two more with Mr. Yorke. However, I want to caution you to focus your limited reading time on what's most essential—specifically, modern historical, geographical, chronological, and political knowledge. This includes understanding the current constitution, principles, power, wealth, trade, commerce, and the different courts and factions in Europe. Many individuals considered good scholars may know a lot about ancient Athens and Rome but know nothing about the structure of any European country today, including their own. Just read enough Latin and Greek to maintain your classical education—this will enrich you when you’re young and comfort you in your old age. But the truly valuable knowledge, especially for you, is the modern information I mentioned. It will prepare you for both local and international affairs, so you should focus on that, and I’m pleased to see that you are already doing so. I wouldn't encourage you this way if I believed praise would have a negative effect on you, as it often does on weaker minds. I think you’re far from being a vain person who overestimates their own worth and looks down on others because of it. In contrast, I believe that self-awareness makes a sensible person more humble, even as they assert themselves more firmly. A person who flaunts their achievements is arrogant, while someone who lacks awareness of their strengths is foolish. A sensible person recognizes their worth, utilizes it without bragging, and seems to undervalue it, even though they truly appreciate its correct value. La Bruyère has a wise saying worth your consideration: ‘You are only worth what you want to be worth in this world.’ A person who is genuinely shy and timid, no matter their merit, can’t push themselves in life; their insecurity leads to inaction, and the bold, busy, and pushy types will always outshine them. It's all about how you present yourself. What might be seen as audacity in one context could come off as just decent confidence in another. A knowledgeable person will assert their rights and goals as confidently and unwaveringly as the boldest person, often even more so; but they skillfully manage to project an air of modesty in everything they do. This attitude wins people over, while the same actions can backfire if delivered with arrogance. I reiterate my saying: ‘Gentle in manner, but strong in purpose.’ If you want to understand the character and behavior at the end of the last century, which resemble those of today, read La Bruyère. But if you want to understand humanity, regardless of social trends, read La Rochefoucauld, who I fear depicts it very accurately.
Give the inclosed to Abbe Guasco, of whom you make good use, to go about with you, and see things. Between you and me, he has more knowledge than parts. ‘Mais un habile homme sait tirer parti de tout’, and everybody is good for something. President Montesquieu is, in every sense, a most useful acquaintance. He has parts, joined to great reading and knowledge of the world. ‘Puisez dans cette source tant que vous pourrez’.
Give the enclosed to Abbe Guasco, who you find useful to accompany you and see things. Just between us, he knows more than he shows. ‘But a skilled person knows how to make the best of everything’, and everyone has their strengths. President Montesquieu is, in every way, a very valuable connection. He has intelligence, combined with extensive reading and knowledge of the world. ‘Draw from this source as long as you can’.
Adieu. May the Graces attend you! for without them ‘ogni fatica e vana’. If they do not come to you willingly, ravish them, and force them to accompany you in all you think, all you say, and all you do.
Goodbye. May the Graces be with you! Because without them, "every effort is in vain." If they don't come to you willingly, take them by force and make them accompany you in everything you think, say, and do.
LETTER CXXXI
LONDON, February 11, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: When you go to the play, which I hope you do often, for it is a very instructive amusement, you must certainly have observed the very different effects which the several parts have upon you, according as they are well or ill acted. The very best tragedy of, Corneille’s, if well spoken and acted, interests, engages, agitates, and affects your passions. Love, terror, and pity alternately possess you. But, if ill spoken and acted, it would only excite your indignation or your laughter. Why? It is still Corneille’s; it is the same sense, the same matter, whether well or ill acted. It is, then, merely the manner of speaking and acting that makes this great difference in the effects. Apply this to yourself, and conclude from it, that if you would either please in a private company, or persuade in a public assembly, air, looks, gestures, graces, enunciation, proper accents, just emphasis, and tuneful cadences, are full as necessary as the matter itself. Let awkward, ungraceful, inelegant, and dull fellows say what they will in behalf of their solid matter and strong reasonings; and let them despise all those graces and ornaments which engage the senses and captivate the heart; they will find (though they will possibly wonder why) that their rough, unpolished matter, and their unadorned, coarse, but strong arguments, will neither please nor persuade; but, on the contrary, will tire out attention, and excite disgust. We are so made, we love to be pleased better than to be informed; information is, in a certain degree, mortifying, as it implies our previous ignorance; it must be sweetened to be palatable.
MY DEAR FRIEND: When you go to the theater, which I hope you do often because it’s a very enlightening pastime, you must have noticed the different effects that the various performances have on you, depending on whether they are well or poorly acted. The best tragedy by Corneille, when performed well, captivates, stirs, and moves your emotions. Love, fear, and pity take turns consuming you. But if it’s performed poorly, it only provokes your anger or makes you laugh. Why is that? It’s still Corneille’s work; it contains the same themes and ideas, whether it's performed well or badly. So, it’s really the way it’s presented that causes this big difference in impact. Think about this in relation to yourself and realize that if you want to impress in a private setting or convince in a public meeting, style, appearance, gestures, charm, pronunciation, appropriate tone, correct emphasis, and melodic delivery are just as important as the content itself. Let awkward, ungraceful, and dull people say whatever they want about their substantial ideas and strong arguments, and let them sneer at the elements of charm and beauty that engage the senses and win over the heart; they will discover (though they might be surprised by it) that their rough, unrefined content, along with their plain, coarse, but solid arguments, will neither entertain nor convince; instead, they will bore the audience and provoke disdain. We are simply made this way; we prefer to be entertained rather than just informed; information can be a bit uncomfortable since it highlights our previous lack of knowledge; it needs to be made appealing to be digestible.
To bring this directly to you: know that no man can make a figure in this country, but by parliament. Your fate depends upon your success there as a speaker; and, take my word for it, that success turns much more upon manner than matter. Mr. Pitt and Mr. Murray the solicitor-general, uncle to Lord Stormount, are, beyond comparison, the best speakers; why? only because they are the best orators. They alone can inflame or quiet the House; they alone are so attended to, in that numerous and noisy assembly, that you might hear a pin fall while either of them is speaking. Is it that their matter is better, or their arguments stronger, than other people’s? Does the House expect extraordinary informations from them? Not, in the least: but the House expects pleasure from them, and therefore attends; finds it, and therefore approves. Mr. Pitt, particularly, has very little parliamentary knowledge; his matter is generally flimsy, and his arguments often weak; but his eloquence is superior, his action graceful, his enunciation just and harmonious; his periods are well turned, and every word he makes use of is the very best, and the most expressive, that can be used in that place. This, and not his matter, made him Paymaster, in spite of both king and ministers. From this draw the obvious conclusion. The same thing holds full as true in conversation; where even trifles, elegantly expressed, well looked, and accompanied with graceful action, will ever please, beyond all the homespun, unadorned sense in the world. Reflect, on one side, how you feel within yourself, while you are forced to suffer the tedious, muddy, and ill-turned narration of some awkward fellow, even though the fact may be interesting; and, on the other hand, with what pleasure you attend to the relation of a much less interesting matter, when elegantly expressed, genteelly turned, and gracefully delivered. By attending carefully to all these agremens in your daily conversation, they will become habitual to you, before you come into parliament; and you will have nothing then, to do, but to raise them a little when you come there. I would wish you to be so attentive to this object, that I, would not have you speak to your footman, but in the very best words that the subject admits of, be the language what it will. Think of your words, and of their arrangement, before you speak; choose the most elegant, and place them in the best order. Consult your own ear, to avoid cacophony, and, what is very near as bad, monotony. Think also of your gesture and looks, when you are speaking even upon the most trifling subjects. The same things, differently expressed, looked, and delivered, cease to be the same things. The most passionate lover in the world cannot make a stronger declaration of love than the ‘Bourgeois gentilhomme’ does in this happy form of words, ‘Mourir d’amour me font belle Marquise vos beaux yeux’. I defy anybody to say more; and yet I would advise nobody to say that, and I would recommend to you rather to smother and conceal your passion entirely than to reveal it in these words. Seriously, this holds in everything, as well as in that ludicrous instance. The French, to do them justice, attend very minutely to the purity, the correctness, and the elegance of their style in conversation and in their letters. ‘Bien narrer’ is an object of their study; and though they sometimes carry it to affectation, they never sink into inelegance, which is much the worst extreme of the two. Observe them, and form your French style upon theirs: for elegance in one language will reproduce itself in all. I knew a young man, who, being just elected a member of parliament, was laughed at for being discovered, through the keyhole of his chamber-door, speaking to himself in the glass, and forming his looks and gestures. I could not join in that laugh; but, on the contrary, thought him much wiser than those who laughed at him; for he knew the importance of those little graces in a public assembly, and they did not. Your little person (which I am told, by the way, is not ill turned), whether in a laced coat or a blanket, is specifically the same; but yet, I believe, you choose to wear the former, and you are in the right, for the sake of pleasing more. The worst-bred man in Europe, if a lady let fall her fan, would certainly take it up and give it her; the best-bred man in Europe could do no more. The difference, however, would be considerable; the latter would please by doing it gracefully; the former would be laughed at for doing it awkwardly. I repeat it, and repeat it again, and shall never cease repeating it to you: air, manners, graces, style, elegance, and all those ornaments, must now be the only objects of your attention; it is now, or never, that you must acquire them. Postpone, therefore, all other considerations; make them now your serious study; you have not one moment to lose. The solid and the ornamental united, are undoubtedly best; but were I reduced to make an option, I should without hesitation choose the latter.
To put it plainly: know that no one can succeed in this country without parliament. Your future hinges on how well you perform there as a speaker, and believe me, that success relies much more on style than substance. Mr. Pitt and Mr. Murray, the solicitor-general and uncle to Lord Stormount, are by far the best speakers—why? Because they are excellent orators. They alone can stir or calm the House; they alone garner such attention in that large, noisy crowd that you could hear a pin drop while they're speaking. Is it that their content is better or their arguments stronger than others? Not at all; the House doesn’t expect extraordinary information from them. Instead, they expect enjoyment, and that’s why they pay attention, enjoy it, and therefore approve. Mr. Pitt, in particular, has very little parliamentary knowledge; his content is often weak, and his arguments sometimes lack strength. However, his eloquence is unmatched, his delivery is graceful, his enunciation clear and melodious; his statements are well-structured, and every word he uses is precisely the right choice for that setting. This, not his content, made him Paymaster, despite both the king and the ministers. From this, you can draw a clear conclusion. The same is true in casual conversations, where even trivial matters expressed with elegance, good looks, and graceful gestures will always be more appealing than plain, unembellished truth. Think about how you feel when you're stuck listening to some clumsy person ramble on, even if the story is interesting, and compare that to the pleasure you feel when less gripping information is delivered beautifully, stylishly, and smoothly. By paying close attention to these details in your daily discussions, you'll make them second nature before you enter parliament; then you'll only need to elevate them a bit when you get there. I want you to be so mindful of this that I wouldn't want you to talk to your footman without using the best words the situation allows, no matter what the language is. Think about your words and how you arrange them before you speak; choose the most elegant phrasing and order them thoughtfully. Listen to how it sounds to avoid discordance and, almost as bad, monotony. Also consider your gestures and facial expressions, even when discussing the simplest topics. The same ideas expressed differently, with varied tones and deliveries, can feel entirely different. The most passionate lover could never express love more strongly than the ‘Bourgeois gentilhomme’ does with the words, ‘Mourir d’amour me font belle Marquise vos beaux yeux.’ I challenge anyone to say more, yet I wouldn’t recommend anyone using those words; I’d suggest it’s better to hide your feelings altogether than reveal them that way. Seriously, this principle applies to all situations, even this amusing example. To be fair, the French pay great attention to the purity, correctness, and elegance of their style in conversation and writing. “Bien narrer” is a focus of their studies; and while they sometimes take it too far, they never fall into inelegance, which is a much worse extreme. Watch them, and model your French style after theirs because elegance in one language will translate to others. I knew a young man who had just been elected to parliament who was mocked for being seen through the keyhole of his room, talking to himself in the mirror and practicing his looks and gestures. I couldn’t join in that laughter; rather, I thought he was much wiser than those who ridiculed him because he understood the significance of those little graces in a public setting, while they did not. Your little figure (which I hear isn’t poorly shaped), whether in a laced coat or a blanket, remains the same; however, I believe you prefer to wear the former, and you’re right to do so for the sake of making a better impression. The rudest man in Europe would certainly pick up a lady’s fan if she dropped it and hand it back to her; the most refined man could do no more. The difference, however, would be significant; the latter would please by executing it gracefully, while the former would be mocked for doing it clumsily. I say it again and again, and will continue to remind you: style, manners, grace, elegance, and all those enhancements must be your sole focus now. It’s time to develop them, or you might miss your chance. While substance and ornament are undoubtedly best combined, if I had to choose between the two, I would unhesitatingly select the latter.
I hope you assiduously frequent Marcell—[At that time the most celebrated dancing-master at Paris.]—and carry graces from him; nobody had more to spare than he had formerly. Have you learned to carve? for it is ridiculous not to carve well. A man who tells you gravely that he cannot carve, may as well tell you that he cannot blow his nose: it is both as necessary, and as easy.
I hope you regularly visit Marcell—[At that time the most famous dancing teacher in Paris.]—and pick up some skills from him; no one had more to share than he did back then. Have you learned to carve? It's absurd not to carve well. A guy who seriously tells you he can't carve might as well say he can't blow his nose: it's both essential and easy.
Make my compliments to Lord Huntingdon, whom I love and honor extremely, as I dare say you do; I will write to him soon, though I believe he has hardly time to read a letter; and my letters to those I love are, as you know by experience, not very short ones: this is one proof of it, and this would have been longer, if the paper had been so. Good night then, my dear child.
Make sure to send my regards to Lord Huntingdon, whom I deeply admire and respect, just as I’m sure you do too. I’ll write to him soon, although I doubt he has much time to read letters, and my letters to those I care about are, as you know from experience, not very short. This is one example, and it would have been longer if I had more paper. Good night then, my dear child.
LETTER CXXXII
LONDON, February 28, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: This epigram in Martial—
MY DEAR FRIEND: This saying 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.]
“I don’t love you, Sabidi, and I can’t say why;
All I can say is, I don’t love you”—
[OR: “I don’t love you, Dr. Fell
The reason why I can’t tell.
But this I know and know full well:
I don’t love you, Dr. Fell.” D.W.]has puzzled a great many people, who cannot conceive how it is possible not to love anybody, and yet not to know the reason why. I think I conceive Martial’s meaning very clearly, though the nature of epigram, which is to be short, would not allow him to explain it more fully; and I take it to be this: O Sabidis, you are a very worthy deserving man; you have a thousand good qualities, you have a great deal of learning; I esteem, I respect, but for the soul of me I cannot love you, though I cannot particularly say why. You are not aimable: you have not those engaging manners, those pleasing attentions, those graces, and that address, which are absolutely necessary to please, though impossible to define. I cannot say it is this or that particular thing that hinders me from loving you; it is the whole together; and upon the whole you are not agreeable.
has puzzled a lot of people, who can’t understand how it’s possible not to love anyone and still not know why. I think I get Martial’s point pretty clearly, even though the nature of an epigram, which is to be brief, doesn’t let him explain it in detail; and I take it to mean this: O Sabidis, you are a very deserving person; you have a ton of good qualities, and you’re quite knowledgeable; I appreciate and respect you, but for the life of me, I can’t love you, even though I can’t pinpoint why. You’re not charming: you don’t have those engaging manners, those thoughtful gestures, those graces, and that charm, which are absolutely necessary to be likable, even if they’re hard to define. I can’t say it’s this or that specific thing that stops me from loving you; it’s the whole package, and overall you’re not pleasant.
How often have I, in the course of my life, found myself in this situation, with regard to many of my acquaintance, whom I have honored and respected, without being able to love. I did not know why, because, when one is young, one does not take the trouble, nor allow one’s self the time, to analyze one’s sentiments and to trace them up to their source. But subsequent observation and reflection have taught me why. There is a man, whose moral character, deep learning, and superior parts, I acknowledge, admire, and respect; but whom it is so impossible for me to love, that I am almost in a fever whenever I am in his company. His figure (without being deformed) seems made to disgrace or ridicule the common structure of the human body. His legs and arms are never in the position which, according to the situation of his body, they ought to be in, but constantly employed in committing acts of hostility upon the Graces. He throws anywhere, but down his throat, whatever he means to drink, and only mangles what he means to carve. Inattentive to all the regards of social life, he mistimes or misplaces everything. He disputes with heat, and indiscriminately, mindless of the rank, character, and situation of those with whom he disputes; absolutely ignorant of the several gradations of familiarity or respect, he is exactly the same to his superiors, his equals, and his inferiors; and therefore, by a necessary consequence, absurd to two of the three. Is it possible to love such a man? No. The utmost I can do for him, is to consider him as a respectable Hottentot.—[This ‘mot’ was aimed at Dr. Johnson in retaliation for his famous letter.]
How often have I found myself in this situation throughout my life, with many of my acquaintances whom I have honored and respected, yet couldn't bring myself to love. I didn’t understand why, because when you’re young, you don’t take the time to analyze your feelings or trace them back to their origins. But with more observation and reflection, I’ve learned the reason. There’s a man whose moral character, deep learning, and exceptional qualities I acknowledge, admire, and respect; yet it’s impossible for me to love him, to the point where I feel almost frantic whenever I’m around him. His appearance (while not deformed) seems designed to mock or ridicule the typical human form. His limbs are never in the positions they should be according to his body’s posture; instead, they seem perpetually engaged in undermining grace. He spills everything he attempts to drink, except what goes down his throat, and only butchers what he tries to carve. Completely oblivious to social norms, he misjudges or misplaces everything. He argues passionately and indiscriminately, disregarding the rank, character, and situation of those he debates with; completely unaware of the different levels of familiarity or respect, he treats his superiors, equals, and inferiors the same, making him absurd to two of the three. Is it possible to love such a man? No. The best I can do is regard him as a respectable Hottentot.
I remember, that when I came from Cambridge, I had acquired, among the pedants of that illiberal seminary, a sauciness of literature, a turn to satire and contempt, and a strong tendency to argumentation and contradiction. But I had been but a very little while in the world, before I found that this would by no means do; and I immediately adopted the opposite character; I concealed what learning I had; I applauded often, without approving; and I yielded commonly without conviction. ‘Suaviter in modo’ was my law and my prophets; and if I pleased (between you and me) it was much more owing to that, than to any superior knowledge or merit of my own. Apropos, the word PLEASING puts one always in mind of Lady Hervey; pray tell her, that I declare her responsible to me for your pleasing; that I consider her as a pleasing Falstaff, who not only pleases, herself, but is the cause of pleasing in others; that I know she can make anything of anybody; and that, as your governess, if she does not make you please, it must be only because she will not, and not because she cannot. I hope you are ‘dubois don’t on en fait’; and if so, she is so good a sculptor, that I am sure she can give you whatever form she pleases. A versatility of manners is as necessary in social, as a versatility of parts is in political life. One must often yield, in order to prevail; one must humble one’s self, to be exalted; one must, like St. Paul, become all things to all men, to gain some; and, by the way, men are taken by the same means, ‘mutatis mutandis’, that women are gained—by gentleness, insinuation, and submission: and these lines of Mr. Dryden will hold to a minister as well as to a mistress:
I remember when I came back from Cambridge, I had picked up a bit of a snobbish attitude about literature from those stuck-up teachers, a tendency towards satire and disdain, and a strong knack for arguing and getting into conflicts. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that this approach was not going to work in the real world; so I quickly adopted the opposite attitude. I hid whatever knowledge I had; I often praised things I didn’t really like; and I frequently agreed with others without genuinely believing in it. ‘Gentle in manner’ became my guiding principle. And honestly, if I managed to charm anyone, it was more due to that than any special knowledge or talent on my part. Speaking of charm, the word PLEASING always brings Lady Hervey to mind; please let her know that I hold her responsible for your charm. I see her as a delightful Falstaff, who not only enjoys her own company but also makes others enjoy it. I know she has the ability to shape anyone into anything, and as your governess, if you’re not exuding charm, it’s only because she chooses not to, not because she can’t. I hope you are ‘dubois don’t on en fait’; and if that’s the case, she’s such a talented sculptor that I’m sure she can give you whatever shape she wants. Being adaptable in social situations is just as important as being versatile in politics. Sometimes you have to give way to get ahead; you have to humble yourself to rise; you need to, like St. Paul, be all things to all people to win some over. And by the way, the same tactics often work on men as they do on women—through kindness, subtle persuasion, and yielding: and these lines from Mr. Dryden apply to a minister just as much as to a mistress:
“The prostrate lover, when he lowest lies,
But stoops to conquer, and but kneels to rise.”
“The submissive lover, when he is at his lowest,
Still bends to win and kneels to stand up.”In the course of the world, the qualifications of the chameleon are often necessary; nay, they must be carried a little further, and exerted a little sooner; for you should, to a certain degree, take the hue of either the man or the woman that you want, and wish to be upon terms with. ‘A propos’, have you yet found out at Paris, any friendly and hospitable Madame de Lursay, ‘qui veut bien se charger du soin de vous eduquer’? And have you had any occasion of representing to her, ‘qu’elle faisoit donc des noeuds’? But I ask your pardon, Sir, for the abruptness of the question, and acknowledge that I am meddling with matters that are out of my department. However, in matters of less importance, I desire to be ‘de vos secrets le fidele depositaire’. Trust me with the general turn and color of your amusements at Paris. Is it ‘le fracas du grand monde, comedies, bals, operas, cour,’ etc.? Or is it ‘des petites societes, moins bruyantes, mais pas pour cela moins agreables’? Where are you the most ‘etabli’? Where are you ‘le petit Stanhope? Voyez vous encore jour, a quelque arrangement honnete? Have you made many acquaintances among the young Frenchmen who ride at your Academy; and who are they? Send to me this sort of chit-chat in your letters, which, by the bye, I wish you would honor me with somewhat oftener. If you frequent any of the myriads of polite Englishmen who infest Paris, who are they? Have you finished with Abbe Nolet, and are you ‘au fait’ of all the properties and effects of air? Were I inclined to quibble, I would say, that the effects of air, at least, are best to be learned of Marcel. If you have quite done with l’Abbes Nolet, ask my friend l’Abbe Sallier to recommend to you some meagre philomath, to teach you a little geometry and astronomy; not enough to absorb your attention and puzzle your intellects, but only enough not to be grossly ignorant of either. I have of late been a sort of ‘astronome malgre moi’, by bringing in last Monday into the House of Lords a bill for reforming our present Calendar and taking the New Style. Upon which occasion I was obliged to talk some astronomical jargon, of which I did not understand one word, but got it by heart, and spoke it by rote from a master. I wished that I had known a little more of it myself; and so much I would have you know. But the great and necessary knowledge of all is, to know, yourself and others: this knowledge requires great attention and long experience; exert the former, and may you have the latter! Adieu!
Throughout life, it's often essential to adapt like a chameleon; in fact, you need to take it a step further and start doing it sooner. You should, to some extent, match the vibe of the person you want to connect with, whether they're a man or a woman. By the way, have you found a friendly and welcoming Madame de Lursay in Paris, "who is willing to take care of your education"? Have you had a chance to let her know that "she's making some connections"? I apologize for the sudden question and realize I'm getting into issues outside my area. Still, in less significant matters, I’d like to be "the faithful keeper of your secrets." Keep me updated on the general nature and vibe of your activities in Paris. Is it "the hustle and bustle of high society, comedies, balls, operas, courts," etc.? Or is it "the smaller gatherings, quieter but just as enjoyable"? Where do you feel most "established"? Where are you "the little Stanhope"? Do you still see any opportunities for an honest arrangement? Have you made many friends among the young Frenchmen at your Academy, and who are they? Please include these kinds of casual updates in your letters, which, by the way, I wish you would send me more often. If you hang out with any of the countless polite Englishmen in Paris, who are they? Have you wrapped things up with Abbe Nolet, and are you "au fait" with all the properties and effects of air? If I were to quibble, I'd say that the effects of air are best learned from Marcel. If you've finished up with l’Abbe Nolet, please ask my friend l’Abbe Sallier to recommend a knowledgeable tutor for a bit of geometry and astronomy—just enough to keep you from being completely clueless. Recently, I've been somewhat of an "astronome malgré moi" by bringing a bill to the House of Lords last Monday to reform our current Calendar and adopt the New Style. For that, I had to talk some astronomical jargon that I didn't understand at all but memorized and recited from a master. I wish I’d known a bit more myself; and I wanted to share that with you. But the most important knowledge of all is to understand yourself and others: this requires great focus and long experience; make use of the former, and may you gain the latter! Goodbye!
P. S. I have this moment received your letters of the 27th February, and the 2d March, N. S. The seal shall be done as soon as possible. I am, glad that you are employed in Lord Albemarle’s bureau; it will teach you, at least, the mechanical part of that business, such as folding, entering, and docketing letters; for you must not imagine that you are let into the ‘fin fin’ of the correspondence, nor indeed is it fit that you should, at, your age. However, use yourself to secrecy as to the letters you either read or write, that in time you may be trusted with SECRET, VERY SECRET, SEPARATE, APART, etc. I am sorry that this business interferes with your riding; I hope it is seldom; but I insist upon its not interfering with your dancing-master, who is at this time the most useful and necessary of all the masters you have or can have.
P.S. I just received your letters from February 27th and March 2nd, N.S. The seal will be done as soon as possible. I’m glad you’re working in Lord Albemarle’s office; it will at least teach you the basics of the job, like folding, logging, and filing letters. Don’t think that you’re being let into the more important parts of the correspondence, and honestly, at your age, it’s not appropriate that you are. However, make sure to keep secret any letters you read or write, so that eventually you can be trusted with SECRET, VERY SECRET, SEPARATE, APART, etc. I’m sorry that this job is interfering with your riding; I hope it’s not too often, but I really want it to not interfere with your dance lessons, which are currently the most useful and necessary of all the lessons you have or could possibly have.
LETTER CXXXIII
MY DEAR FRIEND: I mentioned to you, some time ago a sentence which I would most earnestly wish you always to retain in your thoughts, and observe in your conduct. It is ‘suaviter in modo, fortiter in re’ [gentleness of manners, with firmness of mind D.W.]. I do not know any one rule so unexceptionably useful and necessary in every part of life. I shall therefore take it for my text to-day, and as old men love preaching, and I have some right to preach to you, I here present you with my sermon upon these words. To proceed, then, regularly and PULPITICALLY, I will first show you, my beloved, the necessary connection of the two members of my text ‘suaviter in modo: fortiter in re’. In the next place, I shall set forth the advantages and utility resulting from a strict observance of the precept contained in my text; and conclude with an application of the whole. The ‘suaviter in modo’ alone would degenerate and sink into a mean, timid complaisance and passiveness, if not supported and dignified by the ‘fortiter in re’, which would also run into impetuosity and brutality, if not tempered and softened by the ‘suaviter in modo’: however, they are seldom united.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Some time ago, I shared with you a saying that I sincerely hope you always keep in mind and practice in your life. It is ‘suaviter in modo, fortiter in re’ [gentleness of manners, with firmness of mind D.W.]. I don't know any single principle that is so universally beneficial and essential in every aspect of life. So, I’ll use it as my topic today, and since older folks enjoy preaching, and I have some right to share my thoughts with you, I’m giving you my sermon on these words. To proceed systematically and PULPITICALLY, I will first explain the necessary connection between the two parts of my phrase ‘suaviter in modo: fortiter in re’. Next, I will outline the benefits and importance of strictly following the advice in my phrase and conclude with a summary of everything. The ‘suaviter in modo’ by itself could easily become weak, timid niceness and passivity if it’s not backed up and elevated by the ‘fortiter in re’, which could also turn into recklessness and aggression if it’s not moderated and softened by the ‘suaviter in modo’. However, they are rarely found together.
The warm, choleric man, with strong animal spirits, despises the ‘suaviter in modo’, and thinks to, carry all before him by the ‘fortiter in re’. He may, possibly, by great accident, now and then succeed, when he has only weak and timid people to deal with; but his general fate will be, to shock offend, be hated, and fail. On the other hand, the cunning, crafty man thinks to gain all his ends by the ‘suaviter in modo’ only; HE BECOMES ALL THINGS TO ALL MEN; he seems to have no opinion of his own, and servilely adopts the present opinion of the present person; he insinuates himself only into the esteem of fools, but is soon detected, and surely despised by everybody else. The wise man (who differs as much from the cunning, as from the choleric man) alone joins the ‘suaviter in modo’ with the ‘fortiter in re’. Now to the advantages arising from the strict observance of this precept:
The passionate, fiery person, with a lot of energy, looks down on being gentle and tries to bulldoze his way through life with force. He might occasionally succeed, especially when dealing with weak and timid people, but overall, he will end up shocking, offending, and being hated, leading to failure. On the flip side, the sly, cunning person believes he can achieve all his goals just by being smooth and charming; he becomes everything to everyone. He seems to lack his own opinions and blindly adopts whatever views are popular at the moment. He only wins the favor of fools but is quickly exposed and disdained by everyone else. The wise person (who is as different from the cunning as he is from the fiery man) successfully combines charm with strength. Now, let's look at the benefits that come from strictly following this principle:
If you are in authority, and have a right to command, your commands delivered ‘suaviter in modo’ will be willingly, cheerfully, and consequently well obeyed; whereas, if given only ‘fortiter’, that is brutally, they will rather, as Tacitus says, be interrupted than executed. For my own part, if I bid my footman bring me a glass of wine, in a rough insulting manner, I should expect that, in obeying me, he would contrive to spill some of it upon me: and I am sure I should deserve it. A cool, steady resolution should show that where you have a right to command you will be obeyed; but at the same time, a gentleness in the manner of enforcing that obedience should make it a cheerful one, and soften as much as possible the mortifying consciousness of inferiority. If you are to ask a favor, or even to solicit your due, you must do it ‘suaviter in modo’, or you will give those who have a mind to refuse you, either a pretense to do it, by resenting the manner; but, on the other hand, you must, by a steady perseverance and decent tenaciousness, show the ‘fortiter in re’. The right motives are seldom the true ones of men’s actions, especially of kings, ministers, and people in high stations; who often give to importunity and fear, what they would refuse to justice or to merit. By the ‘suaviter in modo’ engage their hearts, if you can; at least prevent the pretense of offense but take care to show enough of the ‘fortiter in re’ to extort from their love of ease, or their fear, what you might in vain hope for from their justice or good-nature. People in high life are hardened to the wants and distresses of mankind, as surgeons are to their bodily pains; they see and hear of them all day long, and even of so many simulated ones, that they do not know which are real, and which not. Other sentiments are therefore to be applied to, than those of mere justice and humanity; their favor must be captivated by the ‘suaviter in modo’; their love of ease disturbed by unwearied importunity, or their fears wrought upon by a decent intimation of implacable, cool resentment; this is the true ‘fortiter in re’. This precept is the only way I know in the world of being loved without being despised, and feared without being hated. It constitutes the dignity of character which every wise man must endeavor to establish.
If you’re in a position of authority and have the right to give orders, your requests made ‘suaviter in modo’ will be followed willingly, cheerfully, and effectively. On the other hand, if you approach them strictly ‘fortiter’, meaning brutally, they are more likely to be ignored than acted upon, as Tacitus points out. For instance, if I were to tell my servant to bring me a glass of wine in a rough, insulting way, I would expect that he would end up spilling some on me, and I would deserve it. A calm, steady determination should show that where you have the right to command, obedience will follow; yet, a gentle approach in enforcing that obedience will make it more cheerful and ease the discomfort of feeling inferior. If you need to ask for a favor or even claim what you’re owed, you must do it ‘suaviter in modo’, or you’ll give those who want to deny you a reason to do so due to your tone. However, you must also show steady determination and decent insistence to exhibit the ‘fortiter in re’. The right motivations are rarely the true ones behind people’s actions, especially among kings, ministers, and those in high positions; they often grant what they would refuse to justice or merit out of fear or pressure. Engage their hearts with ‘suaviter in modo’ if you can; at least avoid giving them a reason to take offense, while ensuring you demonstrate enough of the ‘fortiter in re’ to compel them to act due to their desire for comfort or fear, rather than relying on their sense of justice or goodwill. People in high positions have become numb to the needs and suffering of others, similar to how surgeons become desensitized to bodily pain; they see and hear about so many cases daily — both real and fake — that it becomes hard to distinguish between them. Therefore, you need to appeal to something beyond mere justice and humanity; you must win their favor through ‘suaviter in modo’, disturb their comfort with persistent requests, or provoke their fears with a subtle hint of unyielding, calm resentment; that is the true ‘fortiter in re’. This principle is the only way I know to be loved without being disdained, and to be feared without being hated. It forms the dignity of character that every wise person should strive to establish.
Now to apply what has been said, and so conclude.
Now, to put what has been said into action and wrap things up.
If you find that you have a hastiness in your temper, which unguardedly breaks out into indiscreet sallies, or rough expressions, to either your superiors, your equals, or your inferiors, watch it narrowly, check it carefully, and call the ‘suaviter in modo’ to your assistance: at the first impulse of passion, be silent till you can be soft. Labor even to get the command of your countenance so well, that those emotions may not be read in it; a most unspeakable advantage in business! On the other hand, let no complaisance, no gentleness of temper, no weak desire of pleasing on your part,—no wheedling, coaxing, nor flattery, on other people’s,—make you recede one jot from any point that reason and prudence have bid you pursue; but return to the charge, persist, persevere, and you will find most things attainable that are possible. A yielding, timid meekness is always abused and insulted by the unjust and the unfeeling; but when sustained by the ‘fortiter in re’, is always respected, commonly successful. In your friendships and connections, as well as in your enmities, this rule is particularly useful; let your firmness and vigor preserve and invite attachments to you; but, at the same time, let your manner hinder the enemies of your friends and dependents from becoming yours; let your enemies be disarmed by the gentleness of your manner, but let them feel, at the same time, the steadiness of your just resentment; for there is a great difference between bearing malice, which is always ungenerous, and a resolute self-defense, which is always prudent and justifiable. In negotiations with foreign ministers, remember the ‘fortiter in re’; give up no point, accept of no expedient, till the utmost necessity reduces you to it, and even then, dispute the ground inch by inch; but then, while you are contending with the minister ‘fortiter in re’, remember to gain the man by the ‘suaviter in modo’. If you engage his heart, you have a fair chance for imposing upon his understanding, and determining his will. Tell him, in a frank, gallant manner, that your ministerial wrangles do not lessen your personal regard for his merit; but that, on the contrary, his zeal and ability in the service of his master, increase it; and that, of all things, you desire to make a good friend of so good a servant. By these means you may, and will very often be a gainer: you never can be a loser. Some people cannot gain upon themselves to be easy and civil to those who are either their rivals, competitors, or opposers, though, independently of those accidental circumstances, they would like and esteem them. They betray a shyness and an awkwardness in company with them, and catch at any little thing to expose them; and so, from temporary and only occasional opponents, make them their personal enemies. This is exceedingly weak and detrimental, as indeed is all humor in business; which can only be carried on successfully by, unadulterated good policy and right reasoning. In such situations I would be more particularly and ‘noblement’, civil, easy, and frank with the man whose designs I traversed: this is commonly called generosity and magnanimity, but is, in truth, good sense and policy. The manner is often as important as the matter, sometimes more so; a favor may make an enemy, and an injury may make a friend, according to the different manner in which they are severally done. The countenance, the address, the words, the enunciation, the Graces, add great efficacy to the ‘suaviter in modo’, and great dignity to the ‘fortiter in re’, and consequently they deserve the utmost attention.
If you notice that you have a quick temper that sometimes leads to thoughtless outbursts or harsh words to your superiors, peers, or subordinates, keep a close watch on it, control it carefully, and call on ‘suaviter in modo’ for help: at the first sign of anger, stay silent until you can be gentle. Work hard to master your expression so that your feelings aren’t obvious; this is an incredible advantage in business! On the flip side, let no politeness, gentleness, or weak desire to please on your part—no flattery or coaxing from others—push you away from what reason and prudence tell you to pursue; instead, stay determined, keep going, and you'll find that most attainable goals are within reach. A yielding, timid meekness is often taken advantage of and insulted by the unjust and unfeeling; however, when paired with ‘fortiter in re’, it commands respect and is often successful. This rule is especially useful in your friendships and connections, as well as in your conflicts; let your strength and determination draw people to you, but at the same time, be sure your demeanor prevents the enemies of your friends and dependents from becoming yours; disarm your enemies with your gentleness, but let them feel the firmness of your rightful anger; there’s a big difference between holding a grudge, which is always selfish, and being firmly defensive, which is always wise and justifiable. In dealings with foreign diplomats, keep ‘fortiter in re’ in mind; give up no ground, accept no compromises unless absolutely necessary, and even then, fight for every inch; while you’re negotiating firmly with the diplomat, also aim to win him over with ‘suaviter in modo’. If you can win his heart, you have a good chance of influencing his mind and guiding his decisions. Tell him honestly and boldly that your disagreements in business don’t take away from your personal respect for his abilities; in fact, his dedication and skill in serving his leader only increase your respect, and above all, you want to be good friends with such a great servant. By doing this, you may often find yourself in a winning position: you can never really lose. Some people struggle to be friendly and polite to those they see as rivals or competitors, even if, under different circumstances, they would appreciate and value them. They become shy and awkward around them, seizing any opportunity to point out their faults, and thus turn them from mere temporary opponents into personal enemies. This is incredibly weak and harmful, as is any lack of seriousness in business; successful dealings can only be managed through straightforward good policy and sound reasoning. In these situations, I would especially aim to be generous and civil, easygoing, and frank with the person whose plans I'm opposing: this is often called generosity and nobility, but it’s really just good sense and strategy. The manner in which you communicate can be as crucial as the content, sometimes even more so; a favor can turn someone into an enemy, and an injury can result in a friend, depending on how they are delivered. Your expressions, your approach, your words, your delivery, and your charm greatly enhance ‘suaviter in modo’ and add significant respect to ‘fortiter in re’, and therefore, they deserve your utmost attention.
From what has been said, I conclude with this observation, that gentleness of manners, with firmness of mind, is a short, but full description of human perfection on this side of religious and moral duties. That you may be seriously convinced of this truth, and show it in your life and conversation, is the most sincere and ardent wish of, Yours.
From what I've said, I conclude with this observation: being gentle in manner but firm in mind is a brief yet complete description of human perfection concerning our moral and religious responsibilities. I sincerely hope you genuinely believe this truth and reflect it in your life and conversations. Yours.
LETTER CXXXIV
LONDON, March 11, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received by the last post a letter from Abbe Guasco, in which he joins his representations to those of Lord Albemarle, against your remaining any longer in your very bad lodgings at the Academy; and, as I do not find that any advantage can arise to you from being ‘interne’ in an academy which is full as far from the riding-house and from all your other masters, as your lodgings will probably be, I agree to your removing to an ‘hotel garni’; the Abbe will help you to find one, as I desire him by the inclosed, which you will give him. I must, however, annex one condition to your going into private lodgings, which is an absolute exclusion of English breakfasts and suppers at them; the former consume the whole morning, and the latter employ the evenings very ill, in senseless toasting a l’Angloise in their infernal claret. You will be sure to go to the riding-house as often as possible, that is, whenever your new business at Lord Albemarle’s does not hinder you. But, at all events, I insist upon your never missing Marcel, who is at present of more consequence to you than all the bureaux in Europe; for this is the time for you to acquire ‘tous ces petits riens’, which, though in an arithmetical account, added to one another ‘ad infinitum’, they would amount to nothing, in the account of the world amount to a great and important sum. ‘Les agremens et les graces’, without which you will never be anything, are absolutely made up of all those ‘riens’, which are more easily felt than described. By the way, you may take your lodgings for one whole year certain, by which means you may get them much cheaper; for though I intend to see you here in less than a year, it will be but for a little time, and you will return to Paris again, where I intend you shall stay till the end of April twelvemonth, 1752, at which time, provided you have got all ‘la politesse, les manieres, les attentions, et les graces du beau monde’, I shall place you in some business suitable to your destination.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received a letter from Abbe Guasco in the last mail, where he supports Lord Albemarle’s concerns about you staying any longer in your awful lodgings at the Academy. Since I don’t see any benefits for you in being stuck in an academy so far from the riding house and all your other instructors, just like your current place is likely to be, I agree that you should move to a ‘hotel garni’. The Abbe will help you find one, as I’ve asked him in the enclosed note, which you should give to him. However, I must attach one condition to your moving into private lodgings: you are completely banned from having English breakfasts and dinners there. The breakfast takes up the entire morning, and the dinners waste the evenings with pointless toasting in awful claret. Make sure you go to the riding house as often as you can, meaning whenever your new duties at Lord Albemarle’s don’t get in the way. But, regardless, I insist that you never miss Marcel, who is currently more important to you than all the offices in Europe. This is the time for you to pick up all those ‘little things’ which, when added together, may seem insignificant, but in the world’s eyes amount to a significant and valuable sum. The ‘charm and grace’ that you will need to succeed are entirely made up of these ‘little things,’ which are easier to feel than to describe. Also, you might want to rent your lodging for a full year, which would help you get a better deal. Even though I plan to see you here in less than a year, it will only be for a brief time, and you will return to Paris, where I intend for you to stay until the end of April next year, 1752. By that time, if you have acquired all the ‘politeness, manners, attentiveness, and grace of high society,’ I will set you up in some work appropriate for your future.
I have received, at last, your present of the cartoon, from Dominichino, by Planchet. It is very finely done, it is pity that he did not take in all the figures of the original. I will hang it up, where it shall be your own again some time or other.
I have finally received your cartoon gift from Dominichino, sent by Planchet. It's really well done, but it’s a shame he didn’t include all the figures from the original. I’ll hang it up, and it will belong to you again sometime.
Mr. Harte is returned in perfect health from Cornwall, and has taken possession of his prebendal house at Windsor, which is a very pretty one. As I dare say you will always feel, I hope you will always express, the strongest sentiments of gratitude and friendship for him. Write to him frequently, and attend to the letters you receive from him. He shall be with us at Blackheath, alias BABIOLE, all the time that I propose you shall be there, which I believe will be the month of August next.
Mr. Harte has returned in great health from Cornwall and has moved into his prebendal house in Windsor, which is quite charming. As I know you will always feel, I hope you consistently express the deepest feelings of gratitude and friendship towards him. Write to him often and pay attention to the letters you get from him. He will be with us at Blackheath, also known as BABIOLE, for the entire time I plan for you to be there, which I believe will be in August next.
Having thus mentioned to you the probable time of our meeting, I will prepare you a little for it. Hatred; jealousy, or envy, make, most people attentive to discover the least defects of those they do not love; they rejoice at every new discovery they make of that kind, and take care to publish it. I thank God, I do not know what those three ungenerous passions are, having never felt them in my own breast; but love has just the same effect upon me, except that I conceal, instead of publishing, the defeats which my attention makes me discover in those I love. I curiously pry into them; I analyze them; and, wishing either to find them perfect, or to make them so, nothing escapes me, and I soon discover every the least gradation toward or from that perfection. You must therefore expect the most critical ‘examen’ that ever anybody underwent. I shall discover your least, as well as your greatest defects, and I shall very freely tell you of them, ‘Non quod odio habeam sed quod amem’. But I shall tell them you ‘tete-a-tete’, and as MICIO not as DEMEA; and I will tell them to nobody else. I think it but fair to inform you beforehand, where I suspect that my criticisms are likely to fall; and that is more upon the outward, than upon the inward man; I neither suspect your heart nor your head; but to be plain with you, I have a strange distrust of your air, your address, your manners, your ‘tournure’, and particularly of your ENUNCIATION and elegance of style. These will be all put to the trial; for while you are with me, you must do the honors of my house and table; the least inaccuracy or inelegance will not escape me; as you will find by a LOOK at the time, and by a remonstrance afterward when we are alone. You will see a great deal of company of all sorts at BABIOLE, and particularly foreigners. Make, therefore, in the meantime, all these exterior and ornamental qualifications your peculiar care, and disappoint all my imaginary schemes of criticism. Some authors have criticised their own works first, in hopes of hindering others from doing it afterward: but then they do it themselves with so much tenderness and partiality for their own production, that not only the production itself, but the preventive criticism is criticised. I am not one of those authors; but, on the contrary, my severity increases with my fondness for my work; and if you will but effectually correct all the faults I shall find, I will insure you from all subsequent criticisms from other quarters.
Now that I’ve mentioned the likely time for our meeting, I want to prepare you a bit for it. Hatred, jealousy, or envy often lead people to focus on the smallest flaws of those they don't like; they take pleasure in discovering these issues and make sure to share them. Thankfully, I don’t know what those three unkind emotions feel like, since I’ve never experienced them myself; however, love has a similar effect on me, but instead of sharing the flaws I notice in those I care about, I keep them private. I analyze them closely, hoping to either find them perfect or help make them so, and nothing gets past me—I quickly notice any small shift toward or away from that perfection. So, you should be prepared for the most critical examination you have ever faced. I will uncover your smallest and largest flaws, and I’ll readily share them with you, “Not out of hate but out of love.” I’ll speak to you privately, like Micio, not Demea, and I won’t tell anyone else. I think it's only fair to give you a heads-up about where I think my criticisms will land, which is more on the exterior than the interior. I don’t doubt your heart or your mind, but honestly, I have a certain mistrust of your demeanor, your presence, your style, and especially your clarity of speech and elegance of expression. All of these will be put to the test because, while you’re with me, you'll be hosting at my house and table. Any small error or lack of elegance will be noticed, as you’ll see by a glance at the time and by my comments afterward when we’re alone. You’ll meet a variety of guests at Babiole, especially foreigners. So, in the meantime, make it a priority to polish these external and decorative qualities, and prevent me from carrying out my imagined critiques. Some authors have preemptively critiqued their own works in hopes of stopping others from doing it later; but they often do so with such tenderness and bias for their own work that both the work and their self-critique end up being criticized. I'm not one of those authors; instead, my strictness grows with my affection for my work, and if you can effectively address all the flaws I point out, I’ll make sure you won’t face any further criticisms from anyone else.
Are you got a little into the interior, into the constitution of things at Paris? Have you seen what you have seen thoroughly? For, by the way, few people see what they see, or hear what they hear. For example, if you go to les Invalides, do you content yourself with seeing the building, the hall where three or four hundred cripples dine, and the galleries where they lie? or do you inform yourself of the numbers, the conditions of their admission, their allowance, the value and nature of the fund by which the whole is supported? This latter I call seeing, the former is only starting. Many people take the opportunity of ‘les vacances’, to go and see the empty rooms where the several chambers of the parliament did sit; which rooms are exceedingly like all other large rooms; when you go there, let it be when they are full; see and hear what is doing in them; learn their respective constitutions, jurisdictions, objects, and methods of proceeding; hear some causes tried in every one of the different chambers; ‘Approfondissez les choses’.
Have you really delved into the essence of things in Paris? Have you fully taken in what you've seen? Because, honestly, not many people truly see or hear what’s right in front of them. For instance, if you visit les Invalides, do you just look at the building, the hall where a few hundred people with disabilities eat, and the galleries where they rest? Or do you find out the numbers, the criteria for their admission, what they receive, and the nature and value of the funds that support everything? I consider the latter to be genuine observation; the former is merely scratching the surface. Many people take the chance during ‘les vacances’ to visit the empty rooms where parliament used to meet; those rooms are just like any other large rooms. When you go, make sure it’s when they’re occupied; see and hear what’s happening there; understand their purposes, jurisdictions, objectives, and procedures; listen to cases argued in each of the different chambers; ‘Dig deeper into things.’
I am glad to hear that you are so well at Marquis de St. Germain’s, —[At that time Ambassador from the King of Sardinia at the Court of France.]—of whom I hear a very good character. How are you with the other foreign ministers at Paris? Do you frequent the Dutch Ambassador or Ambassadress? Have you any footing at the Nuncio’s, or at the Imperial and Spanish ambassadors? It is useful. Be more particular in your letters to me, as to your manner of passing your time, and the company you keep. Where do you dine and sup oftenest? whose house is most your home? Adieu. ‘Les Graces, les Graces’.
I’m really happy to hear that you’re doing well at Marquis de St. Germain’s, —[At that time Ambassador from the King of Sardinia at the Court of France.]—who has a great reputation. How are things with the other foreign ministers in Paris? Do you spend time with the Dutch Ambassador or Ambassadress? Do you have any connection with the Nuncio or the Imperial and Spanish ambassadors? It’s important. Please be more detailed in your letters to me about how you spend your time and the people you’re with. Where do you usually have dinner and supper? Whose house do you consider your home? Goodbye. ‘Les Graces, les Graces’.
LETTER CXXXV
LONDON, March 18, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I acquainted you in a former letter, that I had brought a bill into the House of Lords for correcting and reforming our present calendar, which is the Julian, and for adopting the Gregorian. I will now give you a more particular account of that affair; from which reflections will naturally occur to you that I hope may be useful, and which I fear you have not made. It was notorious, that the Julian calendar was erroneous, and had overcharged the solar year with eleven days. Pope Gregory the Thirteenth corrected this error; his reformed calendar was immediately received by all the Catholic powers of Europe, and afterward adopted by all the Protestant ones, except Russia, Sweden, and England. It was not, in my opinion, very honorable for England to remain, in a gross and avowed error, especially in such company; the inconveniency of it was likewise felt by all those who had foreign correspondences, whether political or mercantile. I determined, therefore, to attempt the reformation; I consulted the best lawyers and the most skillful astronomers, and we cooked up a bill for that purpose. But then my difficulty began: I was to bring in this bill, which was necessarily composed of law jargon and astronomical calculations, to both which I am an utter stranger. However, it was absolutely necessary to make the House of Lords think that I knew something of the matter; and also to make them believe that they knew something of it themselves, which they do not. For my own part, I could just as soon have talked Celtic or Sclavonian to them as astronomy, and they would have understood me full as well: so I resolved to do better than speak to the purpose, and to please instead of informing them. I gave them, therefore, only an historical account of calendars, from the Egyptian down to the Gregorian, amusing them now and then with little episodes; but I was particularly attentive to the choice of my words, to the harmony and roundness of my periods, to my elocution, to my action. This succeeded, and ever will succeed; they thought I informed, because I pleased them; and many of them said that I had made the whole very clear to them; when, God knows, I had not even attempted it. Lord Macclesfield, who had the greatest share in forming the bill, and who is one of the greatest mathematicians and astronomers in Europe, spoke afterward with infinite knowledge, and all the clearness that so intricate a matter would admit of: but as his words, his periods, and his utterance, were not near so good as mine, the preference was most unanimously, though most unjustly, given to me. This will ever be the case; every numerous assembly is MOB, let the individuals who compose it be what they will. Mere reason and good sense is never to be talked to a mob; their passions, their sentiments, their senses, and their seeming interests, are alone to be applied to. Understanding they have collectively none, but they have ears and eyes, which must be flattered and seduced; and this can only be done by eloquence, tuneful periods, graceful action, and all the various parts of oratory.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I mentioned in a previous letter that I had introduced a bill in the House of Lords to correct and reform our current calendar, the Julian, and to adopt the Gregorian. Now, I’ll provide you with a more detailed account of this matter, along with reflections that I hope will be helpful and that I’m concerned you may not have made. It was well known that the Julian calendar was inaccurate, being off by eleven days in relation to the solar year. Pope Gregory XIII corrected this mistake; his reformed calendar was quickly adopted by all the Catholic nations of Europe, and later by all the Protestant ones, except Russia, Sweden, and England. I believe it was not very honorable for England to stay in such a blatant and acknowledged error, especially in that company; the drawbacks of this were felt by anyone with foreign connections, be it political or commercial. Therefore, I decided to pursue the reform; I consulted the best lawyers and the most skilled astronomers, and we drafted a bill for that purpose. But then my challenge started: I had to present this bill, which consisted of legal jargon and astronomical calculations—both of which I am completely unfamiliar with. However, it was crucial to convince the House of Lords that I understood the subject matter, and also to make them believe they knew something about it themselves, which they didn’t. Personally, I could have just as easily spoken Celtic or Slavic to them as astronomy, and they would have understood me just as well. So I decided to do better than speak directly to the point, and to entertain them rather than inform. I gave them only a historical overview of calendars, from the Egyptian to the Gregorian, occasionally amusing them with small stories; but I was particularly mindful of my word choice, the flow and rhythm of my sentences, my delivery, and my gestures. This worked, and always will work; they thought I enlightened them because I entertained them, and many remarked that I had made it all very clear to them when, God knows, I hadn’t even attempted to do so. Lord Macclesfield, who played a significant role in crafting the bill and is one of the leading mathematicians and astronomers in Europe, spoke afterward with immense knowledge and all the clarity that such a complex subject could allow. However, since his words, his sentences, and his delivery weren’t nearly as polished as mine, the preference was given to me quite unanimously, though unfairly. This will always be the case; any large assembly is a MOB, no matter who makes it up. You can’t use mere reason and common sense to address a mob; you have to appeal to their passions, sentiments, senses, and apparent interests. Collectively, they lack understanding, but they have ears and eyes that must be flattered and seduced; and this can only be achieved through eloquence, melodious phrases, graceful presence, and all the various elements of oratory.
When you come into the House of Commons, if you imagine that speaking plain and unadorned sense and reason will do your business, you will find yourself most grossly mistaken. As a speaker, you will be ranked only according to your eloquence, and by no means according to your matter; everybody knows the matter almost alike, but few can adorn it. I was early convinced of the importance and powers of eloquence; and from that moment I applied myself to it. I resolved not to utter one word, even in common conversation, that should not be the most expressive and the most elegant that the language could supply me with for that purpose; by which means I have acquired such a certain degree of habitual eloquence, that I must now really take some pains, if, I would express myself very inelegantly. I want to inculcate this known truth into you, which, you seem by no means to be convinced of yet, that ornaments are at present your only objects. Your sole business now is to shine, not to weigh. Weight without lustre is lead. You had better talk trifles elegantly to the most trifling woman, than coarse in elegant sense to the most solid man; you had better, return a dropped fan genteelly, than give a thousand pounds awkwardly; and you had better refuse a favor gracefully, than to grant it clumsily. Manner is all, in everything: it is by manner only that you can please, and consequently rise. All your Greek will never advance you from secretary to envoy, or from envoy to ambassador; but your address, your manner, your air, if good, very probably may. Marcel can be of much more use to you than Aristotle. I would, upon my word, much rather that you had Lord Bolingbroke’s style and eloquence in speaking and writing, than all the learning of the Academy of Sciences, the Royal Society, and the two Universities united.
When you enter the House of Commons, if you think that speaking plainly and logically will get you somewhere, you'll be seriously mistaken. Your ranking as a speaker depends solely on your eloquence, not on the content of your message; everyone is pretty much familiar with the content, but few can present it well. I realized early on how important and powerful eloquence is, and from that moment, I focused on developing it. I decided never to say anything, even in casual conversations, that wasn’t the most expressive and elegant language had to offer. Because of this, I've developed such a level of habitual eloquence that now I have to really put in effort if I want to express myself inelegantly. I want to emphasize this well-known truth to you, which you don't seem to grasp yet: embellishments are currently your only focus. Your main goal now is to shine, not to be substantial. Substance without shine is just lead. It’s better to talk about trivial things elegantly to a shallow woman than to express deep thoughts awkwardly to a serious man; it’s better to return a dropped fan gracefully than to hand over a thousand pounds clumsily; and it's better to refuse a favor nicely than to agree to it awkwardly. Manner is everything in all situations: it's through manner that you can please, and therefore advance. All your Greek knowledge won’t promote you from secretary to envoy, or from envoy to ambassador; but if your manner, address, and presence are good, they just might. Marcel can be much more helpful to you than Aristotle. Honestly, I would prefer that you had Lord Bolingbroke’s style and eloquence in speaking and writing over all the knowledge from the Academy of Sciences, the Royal Society, and both Universities combined.
Having mentioned Lord Bolingbroke’s style, which is, undoubtedly, infinitely superior to anybody’s, I would have you read his works, which you have, over and-over again, with particular attention to his style. Transcribe, imitate, emulate it, if possible: that would be of real use to you in the House of Commons, in negotiations, in conversation; with that, you may justly hope to please, to persuade, to seduce, to impose; and you will fail in those articles, in proportion as you fall short of it. Upon the whole, lay aside, during your year’s residence at Paris, all thoughts of all that dull fellows call solid, and exert your utmost care to acquire what people of fashion call shining. ‘Prenez l’eclat et le brillant d’un galant homme’.
Having brought up Lord Bolingbroke’s style, which is, without a doubt, way better than anyone else's, I want you to read his works, which you’ve done repeatedly, with a focus on his style. Write it down, imitate it, try to emulate it if you can: that would really help you in the House of Commons, in negotiations, and in conversations; with that, you can confidently hope to impress, persuade, charm, and dominate; and you will struggle in those areas to the extent that you fall short of it. Overall, set aside, during your year in Paris, all thoughts of what boring people call serious, and put your best effort into acquiring what fashionable people call brilliance. ‘Prenez l’eclat et le brillant d’un galant homme’.
Among the commonly called little things, to which you, do not attend, your handwriting is one, which is indeed shamefully bad and illiberal; it is neither the hand of a man of business, nor of a gentleman, but of a truant school-boy; as soon, therefore, as you have done with Abbe Nolet, pray get an excellent writing-master (since you think that you cannot teach yourself to write what hand you please), and let him teach you to write a genteel, legible, liberal hand, and quick; not the hand of a procureur or a writing-master, but that sort of hand in which the first ‘Commis’ in foreign bureaus commonly write; for I tell you truly, that were I Lord Albemarle, nothing should remain in my bureau written in your present hand. From hand to arms the transition is natural; is the carriage and motion of your arms so too? The motion of the arms is the most material part of a man’s air, especially in dancing; the feet are not near so material. If a man dances well from the waist upward, wears his hat well, and moves his head properly, he dances well. Do the women say that you dress well? for that is necessary too for a young fellow. Have you ‘un gout vif’, or a passion for anybody? I do not ask for whom: an Iphigenia would both give you the desire, and teach you the means to please.
Among the little things that you often overlook, your handwriting is one of them, and it’s honestly quite bad and uncultured. It doesn’t reflect the hand of a business person or a gentleman, but rather that of a misbehaving schoolboy. So, once you’re finished with Abbe Nolet, I suggest you find a great writing teacher (since you believe you can’t teach yourself to write as you wish) to help you develop a stylish, legible, and flowing handwriting—not like that of a lawyer or a writing instructor, but in the style commonly used by junior clerks in foreign offices. I assure you, if I were Lord Albemarle, I wouldn’t keep anything written in your current handwriting in my office. Speaking of transitions from hand to arms, how natural is your arm movement? The way you move your arms is a key part of your presence, especially when dancing; the feet matter much less. If a man dances well above the waist, wears his hat properly, and moves his head right, he’s considered a good dancer. Do the women think you dress well? That’s important for a young man too. Do you have a crush on anyone? I’m not asking who, but a passion could inspire you and teach you how to impress.
In a fortnight or three weeks you will see Sir Charles Hotham at Paris, in his way to Toulouse, where he is to stay a year or two. Pray be very civil to him, but do not carry him into company, except presenting him to Lord Albemarle; for, as he is not to stay at Paris above a week, we do not desire that he should taste of that dissipation: you may show him a play and an opera. Adieu, my dear child.
In two weeks or three, you’ll see Sir Charles Hotham in Paris on his way to Toulouse, where he’ll be staying for a year or two. Please be very polite to him, but don't take him out with others, except for introducing him to Lord Albemarle; since he’s only in Paris for about a week, we’d prefer he doesn’t get caught up in that kind of nightlife. You can take him to a play and an opera. Goodbye, my dear child.
LETTER CXXXVI
LONDON, March 25, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: What a happy period of your life is this? Pleasure is now, and ought to be, your business. While you were younger, dry rules, and unconnected words, were the unpleasant objects of your labors. When you grow older, the anxiety, the vexations, the disappointments inseparable from public business, will require the greatest share of your time and attention; your pleasures may, indeed, conduce to your business, and your business will quicken your pleasures; but still your time must, at least, be divided: whereas now it is wholly your own, and cannot be so well employed as in the pleasures of a gentleman. The world is now the only book you want, and almost the only one you ought to read: that necessary book can only be read in company, in public places, at meals, and in ‘ruelles’. You must be in the pleasures, in order to learn the manners of good company. In premeditated, or in formal business, people conceal, or at least endeavor to conceal, their characters: whereas pleasures discover them, and the heart breaks out through the guard of the understanding. Those are often propitious moments for skillful negotiators to improve. In your destination particularly, the able conduct of pleasures is of infinite use; to keep a good table, and to do the honors of it gracefully, and ‘sur le ton de la bonne compagnie’, is absolutely necessary for a foreign minister. There is a certain light table chit-chat, useful to keep off improper and too serious subjects, which is only to be learned in the pleasures of good company. In truth it may be trifling; but, trifling as it is, a man of parts and experience of the world will give an agreeable turn to it. ‘L’art de badiner agreablement’ is by no means to be despised.
MY DEAR FRIEND: What a happy time in your life this is! Enjoyment is now, and should be, your main focus. When you were younger, rigid rules and disconnected words were the dull tasks you had to deal with. As you grow older, the stress, frustrations, and disappointments that come with public responsibilities will take up most of your time and attention; while your pleasures can indeed enhance your work, and your work can intensify your pleasures, your time must be split: right now, however, it is entirely yours, and there’s no better way to spend it than enjoying the pleasures of being a gentleman. The world is the only book you need, and almost the only one you should read: that essential book can only be explored in the company of others, in public places, during meals, and in informal gatherings. You must engage in pleasures to learn the etiquette of good company. In planned or formal situations, people hide or at least try to hide their true selves; meanwhile, enjoyment reveals them, allowing the heart to show through the intellect’s defense. Those are often great opportunities for savvy negotiators to take advantage of. In your role in particular, managing social pleasures is incredibly important; hosting a good dinner and doing it with charm and in the spirit of good company is absolutely essential for a foreign minister. There’s a certain lighthearted banter that's helpful to steer clear of inappropriate or overly serious topics, and that’s something you can only learn through the pleasures of good company. Though it may seem trivial, even something trivial can be made enjoyable by someone with skills and real-world experience. The art of delightful banter is definitely worth appreciating.
An engaging address, and turn to gallantry, is often of very great service to foreign ministers. Women have, directly or indirectly; a good deal to say in most courts. The late Lord Strafford governed, for a considerable time, the Court of Berlin and made his own fortune, by being well with Madame de Wartenberg, the first King of Prussia’s mistress. I could name many other instances of that kind. That sort of agreeable ‘caquet de femmes’, the necessary fore-runners of closer conferences, is only to be got by frequenting women of the first fashion, ‘et, qui donnent le ton’. Let every other book then give way to this great and necessary book, the world, of which there are so many various readings, that it requires a great deal of time and attention to under stand it well: contrary to all other books, you must not stay home, but go abroad to read it; and when you seek it abroad, you will not find it in booksellers’ shops and stalls, but in courts, in hotels, at entertainments, balls, assemblies, spectacles, etc. Put yourself upon the footing of an easy, domestic, but polite familiarity and intimacy in the several French houses to which you have been introduced: Cultivate them, frequent them, and show a desire of becoming ‘enfant de la maison’. Get acquainted as much as you can with ‘les gens de cour’; and observe, carefully, how politely they can differ, and how civilly they can hate; how easy and idle they can seem in the multiplicity of their business; and how they can lay hold of the proper moments to carry it on, in the midst of their pleasures. Courts, alone, teach versatility and politeness; for there is no living there without them. Lord Albermarle has, I hear, and am very glad of it, put you into the hands of Messieurs de Bissy. Profit of that, and beg of them to let you attend them in all the companies of Versailles and Paris. One of them, at least, will naturally carry you to Madame de la Valiores, unless he is discarded by this time, and Gelliot—[A famous opera-singer at Paris.]—retaken. Tell them frankly, ‘que vous cherchez a vous former, que vous etes en mains de maitres, s’ils veulent bien s’en donner la peine’. Your profession has this agreeable peculiarity in it, which is, that it is connected with, and promoted by pleasures; and it is the only one in which a thorough knowledge of the world, polite manners, and an engaging address, are absolutely necessary. If a lawyer knows his law, a parson his divinity, and a financier his calculations, each may make a figure and a fortune in his profession, without great knowledge of the world, and without the manners of gentlemen. But your profession throws you into all the intrigues and cabals, as well as pleasures, of courts: in those windings and labyrinths, a knowledge of the world, a discernment of characters, a suppleness and versatility of mind, and an elegance of manners, must be your clue; you must know how to soothe and lull the monsters that guard, and how to address and gain the fair that keep, the golden fleece. These are the arts and the accomplishments absolutely necessary for a foreign minister; in which it must be owned, to our shame, that most other nations outdo the English; and, ‘caeteris paribus’, a French minister will get the better of an English one at any third court in Europe. The French have something more ‘liant’, more insinuating and engaging in their manner, than we have. An English minister shall have resided seven years at a court, without having made any one personal connection there, or without being intimate and domestic in any one house. He is always the English minister, and never naturalized. He receives his orders, demands an audience, writes an account of it to his Court, and his business is done. A French minister, on the contrary, has not been six weeks at a court without having, by a thousand little attentions, insinuated himself into some degree of favor with the Prince, his wife, his mistress, his favorite, and his minister. He has established himself upon a familiar and domestic footing in a dozen of the best houses of the place, where he has accustomed the people to be not only easy, but unguarded, before him; he makes himself at home there, and they think him so. By these means he knows the interior of those courts, and can almost write prophecies to his own, from the knowledge he has of the characters, the humors, the abilities, or the weaknesses of the actors. The Cardinal d’Ossat was looked upon at Rome as an Italian, and not as a French cardinal; and Monsieur d’Avaux, wherever he went, was never considered as a foreign minister, but as a native, and a personal friend. Mere plain truth, sense, and knowledge, will by no means do alone in courts; art and ornaments must come to their assistance. Humors must be flattered; the ‘mollia tempora’ must be studied and known: confidence acquired by seeming frankness, and profited of by silent skill. And, above all; you must gain and engage the heart, to betray the understanding to you. ‘Ha tibi erunt artes’.
An engaging way of speaking and a charming demeanor are often very useful for foreign ministers. Women play a significant role, directly or indirectly, in most courts. The late Lord Strafford successfully managed the Court of Berlin for a long time and built his fortune by being on good terms with Madame de Wartenberg, the mistress of the first King of Prussia. I could cite many other similar examples. This kind of pleasant "chit-chat" among women, which is essential before deeper discussions, can only be gained by mingling with high-society women who set the tone. So, let every other book take a backseat to this crucial and essential book: the world. There are so many different interpretations of it that understanding it well takes a lot of time and focus; unlike other books, you can't just stay home to read it—you need to go out. When you do look for it outside, you won’t find it in bookstores but rather in courts, hotels, parties, balls, gatherings, shows, and such. Position yourself in a casual yet polite familiarity in the various French households you’ve been introduced to. Nurture these connections, visit them often, and express a desire to become part of the family. Get to know the people at court as much as possible; observe how politely they can disagree and how civilly they can harbor dislike, how relaxed they seem despite their many responsibilities, and how they seize the right moments to pursue their agendas amid their leisure. Only courts teach adaptability and civility, for you cannot survive there without them. I've heard that Lord Albermarle has wisely placed you in the hands of Messieurs de Bissy. Take advantage of that and ask them if you can accompany them to gatherings in Versailles and Paris. One of them, at the very least, will naturally introduce you to Madame de la Valiores, unless he has been dismissed by now or Gelliot—the famous opera singer in Paris—has been reinstated. Tell them frankly that you’re eager to develop your skills and that you’re in the hands of experts, if they are willing to help you. Your profession has the unique advantage of being connected to, and enhanced by, pleasures; it’s the only job where a deep understanding of the world, refined manners, and an engaging approach are absolutely essential. A lawyer can excel if he knows his law, a priest in his theology, and a financier in calculations, without needing much worldly knowledge or gentlemen's manners. But your profession immerses you in all the intrigues and social events of courts: in these twists and turns, understanding people, having a flexible and adaptable mind, and possessing refined manners are your guides. You must know how to soothe the guardians and how to impress those who keep the golden opportunities. These are the skills and qualities absolutely necessary for a foreign minister; unfortunately, other nations often outperform the English in these areas. In a fair comparison, a French minister will outshine an English one in any third court in Europe. The French have a more engaging, more charming way about them than we do. An English minister may spend seven years in a court without forming a single personal relationship or becoming too comfortable in anyone’s home. He remains merely the English minister and never truly integrates. He receives his orders, requests an audience, reports back to his court, and that’s it. A French minister, on the other hand, within a matter of weeks has ingratiated himself through countless small gestures into some level of favor with the prince, his wife, his mistress, his favorite, and his minister. He establishes himself as a familiar and welcome presence in several of the best houses, where he makes everyone feel at ease and open around him. By doing this, he gains deep insight into those courts, allowing him to provide near-accurate predictions to his own based on his understanding of the personalities, quirks, skills, or weaknesses involved. Cardinal d’Ossat was perceived in Rome as an Italian, not just a French cardinal, and Monsieur d’Avaux was never seen as a foreign minister, but as a local and personal friend wherever he went. Simple honesty, common sense, and knowledge alone won’t suffice in courts; finesse and charm must work alongside them. You must flatter personalities; learn and adapt to “soft moments”: build trust through perceived openness, and use silent expertise to your advantage. Above all, you must win hearts to sway minds. "Ha tibi erunt artes."
The death of the Prince of Wales, who was more beloved for his affability and good-nature than esteemed for his steadiness and conduct, has given concern to many, and apprehensions to all. The great difference of the ages of the King and Prince George presents the prospect of a minority; a disagreeable prospect for any nation! But it is to be hoped, and is most probable, that the King, who is now perfectly recovered of his late indisposition, may live to see his grandson of age. He is, seriously, a most hopeful boy: gentle and good-natured, with good sound sense. This event has made all sorts of people here historians, as well as politicians. Our histories are rummaged for all the particular circumstances of the six minorities we have had since the Conquest, viz, those of Henry III., Edward III., Richard II., Henry VI., Edward V., and Edward VI.; and the reasonings, the speculations, the conjectures, and the predictions, you will easily imagine, must be innumerable and endless, in this nation, where every porter is a consummate politician. Dr. Swift says, very humorously, that “Every man knows that he understands religion and politics, though he never learned them; but that many people are conscious that they do not understand many other sciences, from having never learned them.” Adieu.
The death of the Prince of Wales, who was more loved for his friendliness and good nature than respected for his reliability and behavior, has caused worry for many and concern for everyone. The significant age gap between the King and Prince George raises the possibility of a regency, an unsettling prospect for any nation! However, we hope, and it’s quite likely, that the King, who has now fully recovered from his recent illness, will live to see his grandson come of age. He is, honestly, a very promising young man: kind and good-natured, with solid common sense. This event has turned all kinds of people here into historians as well as politicians. Our histories are being scoured for the details of the six regencies we’ve had since the Conquest: those of Henry III, Edward III, Richard II, Henry VI, Edward V, and Edward VI; and you can easily imagine that the discussions, speculations, hypotheses, and predictions are countless and never-ending in this nation, where every delivery person is a seasoned political expert. Dr. Swift humorously notes that “Every man knows that he understands religion and politics, even if he never studied them; but many people realize they don’t grasp other subjects, simply because they never learned them.” Goodbye.
LETTER CXXXVII
LONDON, April 7, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: Here you have, altogether, the pocketbooks, the compasses, and the patterns. When your three Graces have made their option, you need only send me, in a letter small pieces of the three mohairs they fix upon. If I can find no way of sending them safely and directly to Paris, I will contrive to have them left with Madame Morel, at Calais, who, being Madame Monconseil’s agent there, may find means of furthering them to your three ladies, who all belong to your friend Madame Monconseil. Two of the three, I am told, are handsome; Madame Polignac, I can swear, is not so; but, however, as the world goes, two out of three is a very good composition.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Here you have the pocketbooks, the compasses, and the patterns. Once your three Graces make their choice, just send me a letter with small pieces of the three mohairs they pick. If I can’t figure out a safe and direct way to send them to Paris, I’ll arrange to leave them with Madame Morel in Calais, who works for Madame Monconseil and might be able to help get them to your three ladies, all of whom are connected to your friend Madame Monconseil. I’ve heard two of them are attractive; I can personally attest that Madame Polignac isn’t; but as things stand, two out of three is quite a decent lineup.
You will also find in the packet a compass ring set round with little diamonds, which I advise you to make a present of to Abbe Guasco, who has been useful to you, and will continue to be so; as it is a mere bauble, you must add to the value of it by your manner of giving it him. Show it him first, and, when he commends it, as probably he will, tell him that it is at his service, ‘et que comme il est toujours par vole et par chemins, il est absolument necessaire qu’il ale une boussole’. All those little gallantries depend entirely upon the manner of doing them; as, in truth, what does not? The greatest favors may be done so awkwardly and bunglingly as to offend; and disagreeable things may be done so agreeably as almost to oblige. Endeavor to acquire this great secret; it exists, it is to be found, and is worth a great deal more than the grand secret of the alchemists would be if it were, as it is not, to be found. This is only to be learned in courts, where clashing views, jarring opinions, and cordial hatreds, are softened and kept within decent bounds by politeness and manners. Frequent, observe, and learn courts. Are you free of that of St. Cloud? Are you often at Versailles? Insinuate and wriggle yourself into favor at those places. L’Abbe de la Ville, my old friend, will help you at the latter; your three ladies may establish you in the former. The good-breeding ‘de la ville et de la cour’ [of the city and of the court] are different; but without deciding which is intrinsically the best, that of the court is, without doubt, the most necessary for you, who are to live, to grow, and to rise in courts. In two years’ time, which will be as soon as you are fit for it, I hope to be able to plant you in the soil of a YOUNG COURT here: where, if you have all the address, the suppleness and versatility of a good courtier, you will have a great chance of thriving and flourishing. Young favor is easily acquired if the proper means are employed; and, when acquired, it is warm, if not durable; and the warm moments must be snatched and improved. ‘Quitte pour ce qui en pent arriver apres’. Do not mention this view of mine for you to any one mortal; but learn to keep your own secrets, which, by the way, very few people can do.
You’ll also find in the packet a compass ring surrounded by small diamonds, which I suggest you give to Abbe Guasco, who has been helpful to you and will continue to be. Since it’s just a trinket, you should enhance its value by the way you present it. Show it to him first, and when he praises it, which he likely will, tell him it’s for his use, "and since he is always on the road, he definitely needs a compass." All those little gestures of kindness rely entirely on how you execute them; in fact, what doesn’t? The biggest favors can be offered so clumsily that they offend, while unpleasant things can be done so charmingly that they almost feel like a favor. Strive to learn this important secret; it exists, it's out there, and it's worth way more than the grand secret of alchemists, which, by the way, is not discoverable. This knowledge is only gained in courts, where conflicting views, opposing opinions, and deep-seated animosities are softened and kept in check by politeness and decorum. Spend time at court, observe, and learn. Are you free from St. Cloud? Do you visit Versailles often? Squeeze yourself into favor at those places. L’Abbe de la Ville, my old friend, can assist you with the latter; your three ladies could help you establish yourself in the former. The etiquette of city and court is different, but without arguing which is better, court etiquette is definitely more essential for you, as you’re meant to live, grow, and thrive in courts. In two years, as soon as you're ready, I hope to help you settle in the environment of a YOUNG COURT here: where, if you have the skill, adaptability, and versatility of a good courtier, you’ll have a great chance of success. Young favor is easy to win if the right approaches are taken; and when gained, it’s warm, if not lasting; and those warm moments must be seized and maximized. "Leave the consequences for later." Don’t share this plan of mine with anyone; instead, learn to keep your own secrets, which, by the way, very few can do.
If your course of experimental philosophy with Abbe Nolot is over, I would have you apply to Abbe Sallier, for a master to give you a general notion of astronomy and geometry; of both of which you may know as much, as I desire you should, in six months’ time. I only desire that you should have a clear notion of the present planetary system, and the history of all the former systems. Fontenelle’s ‘Pluralites des Mondes’ will almost teach you all you need know upon that subject. As for geometry, the seven first books of Euclid will be a sufficient portion of it for you. It is right to have a general notion of those abstruse sciences, so as not to appear quite ignorant of them, when they happen, as sometimes they do, to be the topics of conversation; but a deep knowledge of them requires too much time, and engrosses the mind too much. I repeat it again and again to you, Let the great book of the world be your principal study. ‘Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna’; which may be rendered thus in English: Turn Over MEN BY DAY, AND WOMEN BY NIGHT. I mean only the best editions.
If you've finished your experimental philosophy course with Abbe Nolot, I recommend you reach out to Abbe Sallier for a master who can give you a general understanding of astronomy and geometry. You could learn as much as I'd like you to in about six months. I just want you to have a clear understanding of the current planetary system and the history of past systems. Fontenelle’s 'Pluralités des Mondes' will almost cover everything you need on that topic. For geometry, the first seven books of Euclid will be enough for you. It's good to have a general grasp of these complex subjects so you don’t seem completely clueless when they come up in conversation, but a deep understanding takes too much time and can consume your mind. I’ll say it again: Let the great book of the world be your main focus. “Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna,” which can be translated as: Turn Over MEN BY DAY, AND WOMEN BY NIGHT. I mean only the best editions.
Whatever may be said at Paris of my speech upon the bill for the reformation of the present calendar, or whatever applause it may have met with here, the whole, I can assure you, is owing to the words and to the delivery, but by no means to the matter; which, as I told you in a former letter, I was not master of. I mention this again, to show you the importance of well-chosen words, harmonious periods, and good delivery; for, between you and me, Lord Macclefield’s speech was, in truth, worth a thousand of mine. It will soon be printed, and I will send it you. It is very instructive. You say, that you wish to speak but half as well as I did; you may easily speak full as well as ever I did, if you will but give the same attention to the same objects that I did at your age, and for many years afterward; I mean correctness, purity, and elegance of style, harmony of periods, and gracefulness of delivery. Read over and over again the third book of ‘Cicero de Oratore’, in which he particularly treats of the ornamental parts of oratory; they are indeed properly oratory, for all the rest depends only upon common sense, and some knowledge of the subject you speak upon. But if you would please, persuade, and prevail in speaking, it must be by the ornamental parts of oratory. Make them therefore habitual to you; and resolve never to say the most common things, even to your footman, but in the best words you can find, and with the best utterance. This, with ‘les manieres, la tournure, et les usages du beau monde’, are the only two things you want; fortunately, they are both in your power; may you have them both! Adieu.
No matter what people in Paris say about my speech on the bill to reform the current calendar, or however much praise it has received here, I can assure you that it’s all due to the choice of words and how I delivered it, not the content itself, which, as I mentioned in a previous letter, I didn’t fully understand. I bring this up again to highlight the importance of carefully chosen words, smooth phrases, and strong delivery; because, truth be told, Lord Macclefield’s speech was worth a thousand of mine. It will be printed soon, and I’ll send it to you. It’s very insightful. You mentioned that you wish to speak only half as well as I did; you can easily speak just as well as I ever did if you pay the same attention to the same goals that I did at your age and for many years afterward; I mean accuracy, clarity, elegance in style, rhythmic phrases, and graceful delivery. Read and re-read the third book of 'Cicero de Oratore,' where he talks specifically about the decorative aspects of oratory; these aspects are truly what make a good speaker, as everything else relies on common sense and some understanding of the topic you’re discussing. But if you want to please, persuade, and succeed in speaking, it must be through these decorative elements. Make them a habit; resolve never to express even the simplest thoughts, even to your servant, without using the best words you can find and delivering them well. This, along with ‘les manieres, la tournure, et les usages du beau monde’, are the only two skills you need; fortunately, both are within your reach; may you gain them both! Farewell.
LETTER CXXXVIII
LONDON, April 15, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: What success with the graces, and in the accomplishments, elegancies, and all those little nothings so indispensably necessary to constitute an amiable man? Do you take them, do you make a progress in them? The great secret is the art of pleasing; and that art is to be attained by every man who has a good fund of common sense. If you are pleased with any person, examine why; do as he does; and you will charm others by the same things which please you in him. To be liked by women, you must be esteemed by men; and to please men, you must be agreeable to women. Vanity is unquestionably the ruling passion in women; and it is much flattered by the attentions of a man who is generally esteemed by men; when his merit has received the stamp of their approbation, women make it current, that is to say, put him in fashion. On the other hand, if a man has not received the last polish from women, he may be estimable among men, but will never be amiable. The concurrence of the two sexes is as necessary to the perfection of our being, as to the formation of it. Go among women with the good qualities of your sex, and you will acquire from them the softness and the graces of theirs. Men will then add affection to the esteem which they before had for you. Women are the only refiners of the merit of men; it is true, they cannot add weight, but they polish and give lustre to it. ‘A propos’, I am assured, that Madame de Blot, although she has no great regularity of features, is, notwithstanding, excessively pretty; and that, for all that, she has as yet been scrupulously constant to her husband, though she has now been married above a year. Surely she does not reflect, that woman wants polishing. I would have you polish one another reciprocally. Force, assiduities, attentions, tender looks, and passionate declarations, on your side will produce some irresolute wishes, at least, on hers; and when even the slightest wishes arise, the rest will soon follow.
MY DEAR FRIEND: How’s your progress with the charms, skills, elegance, and all those little things that are essential to being a likable person? Are you getting better at them? The big secret is mastering the art of pleasing, and any guy with a good amount of common sense can achieve it. If you like someone, think about why that is; try to emulate what they do, and you’ll attract others with the same qualities that attract you to them. To be liked by women, you need to be respected by men; and to win over men, you have to be appealing to women. Vanity is definitely a primary trait among women, and it gets flattered by the attention from a man who is generally well-regarded by other men; once men endorse him, women help make him popular. Conversely, if a man hasn’t been polished by women, he might be respected among men, but he won’t be charming. The cooperation between the two sexes is just as vital for our well-being as it is for our creation. Engage with women using the good traits of your gender, and you’ll gain the softness and grace of theirs. Men will then add affection to the respect they already have for you. Women are the only ones who refine a man's merits; it's true that they can't add weight to it, but they can polish and give it shine. By the way, I’ve been told that Madame de Blot, despite not having perfectly regular features, is still quite pretty; and so far, she has been very faithful to her husband, even after being married for over a year. Surely she doesn’t think women don’t need polishing. I suggest you both work on polishing each other. Your efforts—attention, care, affectionate glances, and passionate declarations—will at least spark some uncertain feelings from her, and once even the smallest feelings emerge, the rest will quickly follow.
As I take you to be the greatest ‘juris peritus’ and politician of the whole Germanic body, I suppose you will have read the King of Prussia’s letter to the Elector of Mayence, upon the election of a King of the Romans; and on the other side, a memorial entitled, IMPARTIAL REPRESENTATION OF WHAT IS JUST WITH REGARD TO THE ELECTION OF A KING OF THE ROMANS, etc. The first is extremely well written, but not grounded upon the laws and customs of the empire. The second is very ill written (at least in French), but well grounded. I fancy the author is some German, who has taken into his head that he understands French. I am, however, persuaded that the elegance and delicacy of the King of Prussia’s letter will prevail with two-thirds of the public, in spite of the solidity and truth contained in the other piece. Such is the force of an elegant and delicate style!
As I consider you to be the greatest legal expert and politician in the whole Germanic realm, I assume you’ve read the King of Prussia’s letter to the Elector of Mayence regarding the election of a King of the Romans; and on the other hand, a document titled, IMPARTIAL REPRESENTATION OF WHAT IS JUST WITH REGARD TO THE ELECTION OF A KING OF THE ROMANS, etc. The first is very well written, but not based on the laws and customs of the empire. The second is poorly written (at least in French), but is well founded. I suspect the author is some German who thinks he understands French. However, I'm convinced that the elegance and finesse of the King of Prussia’s letter will win over two-thirds of the public, despite the soundness and truth in the other piece. Such is the power of a stylish and refined approach!
I wish you would be so good as to give me a more particular and circumstantial account of the method of passing your time at Paris. For instance, where it is that you dine every Friday, in company with that amiable and respectable old man, Fontenelle? Which is the house where you think yourself at home? For one always has such a one, where one is better established, and more at ease than anywhere else. Who are the young Frenchmen with whom you are most intimately connected? Do you frequent the Dutch Ambassador’s. Have you penetrated yet into Count Caunitz’s house? Has Monsieur de Pignatelli the honor of being one of your humble servants? And has the Pope’s nuncio included you in the jubilee? Tell me also freely how you are with Lord Huntingdon: Do you see him often? Do you connect yourself with him? Answer all these questions circumstantially in your first letter.
I would appreciate it if you could give me a more detailed account of how you spend your time in Paris. For example, where do you have dinner every Friday with that kind and respected old man, Fontenelle? Which place do you feel most at home? Everyone has that one spot where they feel more settled and relaxed than anywhere else. Who are the young Frenchmen you’re closest with? Do you visit the Dutch Ambassador’s place? Have you been to Count Caunitz’s house yet? Does Monsieur de Pignatelli count himself among your acquaintances? And has the Pope’s envoy included you in the jubilee? Also, tell me how things are with Lord Huntingdon: do you see him often? Are you getting involved with him? Please answer all these questions in detail in your first letter.
I am told that Du Clos’s book is not in vogue at Paris, and that it is violently criticised: I suppose that is because one understands it; and being intelligible is now no longer the fashion. I have a very great respect for fashion, but a much greater for this book; which is, all at once, true, solid, and bright. It contains even epigrams; what can one wish for more?
I’ve heard that Du Clos’s book isn’t popular in Paris right now and that it’s heavily criticized. I guess that’s because people can understand it, and being understandable isn’t in style anymore. I have a lot of respect for style, but even more for this book, which is true, solid, and brilliant all at once. It even has epigrams; what more could you want?
Mr.———will, I suppose, have left Paris by this time for his residence at Toulouse. I hope he will acquire manners there; I am sure he wants them. He is awkward, he is silent, and has nothing agreeable in his address,—most necessary qualifications to distinguish one’s self in business, as well as in the POLITE WORLD! In truth, these two things are so connected, that a man cannot make a figure in business, who is not qualified to shine in the great world; and to succeed perfectly in either the one or the other, one must be in ‘utrumque paratus’. May you be that, my dear friend! and so we wish you a good night.
Mr.——— will probably have left Paris by now for his home in Toulouse. I hope he picks up some manners there; he definitely needs them. He’s awkward, quiet, and doesn’t have anything pleasant about his demeanor—qualities that are essential to stand out both in business and in social circles! In fact, these two aspects are so intertwined that a person can't excel in business without being able to shine in society; to succeed in either, one must be prepared for both. May you become that, my dear friend! So, we wish you a good night.
P. S. Lord and Lady Blessington, with their son Lord Mountjoy, will be at Paris next week, in their way to the south of France; I send you a little packet of books by them. Pray go wait upon them, as soon as you hear of their arrival, and show them all the attentions you can.
P.S. Lord and Lady Blessington, along with their son Lord Mountjoy, will be in Paris next week on their way to the south of France. I'm sending you a small package of books through them. Please go visit them as soon as you find out they’ve arrived and give them as much attention as you can.
LETTER CXXXIX
LONDON, April 22, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: I apply to you now, as to the greatest virtuoso of this, or perhaps any other age; one whose superior judgment and distinguishing eye hindered the King of Poland from buying a bad picture at Venice, and whose decisions in the realms of ‘virtu’ are final, and without appeal. Now to the point. I have had a catalogue sent me, ‘d’une Trente a l’aimable de Tableaux des plus Grands Maitres, appartenans au Sieur Araignon Aperen, valet de chambre de la Reine, sur le quai de la Megisserie, au coin de Arche Marion’. There I observe two large pictures of Titian, as described in the inclosed page of the catalogue, No. 18, which I should be glad to purchase upon two conditions: the first is, that they be undoubted originals of Titian, in good preservation; and the other that they come cheap. To ascertain the first (but without disparaging your skill), I wish you would get some undoubted connoisseurs to examine them carefully: and if, upon such critical examination, they should be unanimously allowed to be undisputed originals of Titian, and well preserved, then comes the second point, the price: I will not go above two hundred pounds sterling for the two together; but as much less as you can get them for. I acknowledge that two hundred pounds seems to be a very small sum for two undoubted Titians of that size; but, on the other hand, as large Italian pictures are now out of fashion at Paris, where fashion decides of everything, and as these pictures are too large for common rooms, they may possibly come within the price above limited. I leave the whole of this transaction (the price excepted, which I will not exceed) to your consummate skill and prudence, with proper advice joined to them. Should you happen to buy them for that price, carry them to your own lodgings, and get a frame made to the second, which I observe has none, exactly the same with the other frame, and have the old one new gilt; and then get them carefully packed up, and sent me by Rouen.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I'm reaching out to you now, as the greatest expert of this age, or maybe any age; someone whose keen judgment and discerning eye prevented the King of Poland from purchasing a bad painting in Venice, and whose decisions in the world of art are final and unquestionable. Now, to get to the point. I recently received a catalogue titled ‘d’une Trente a l’aimable de Tableaux des plus Grands Maitres, appartenans au Sieur Araignon Aperen, valet de chambre de la Reine, sur le quai de la Megisserie, au coin de Arche Marion’. In it, I noticed two large paintings by Titian, detailed on the enclosed page of the catalogue, No. 18, which I would like to buy under two conditions: first, that they are genuine originals by Titian, in good condition; and second, that they are affordable. To confirm the first condition (without undermining your expertise), I would like you to have some reliable connoisseurs examine them thoroughly: if they unanimously agree that they are indeed undisputed originals by Titian and well-preserved, we can move to the second condition, the price: I will not pay more than two hundred pounds sterling for both, but I’d prefer to pay as little as possible. I realize that two hundred pounds seems like a low offer for two authentic Titians of that size; however, since large Italian paintings are currently out of style in Paris, where trends dictate everything, and these paintings are too big for typical rooms, they might actually fit the price I mentioned. I trust you completely with this entire transaction (except for the price, which I won’t exceed), relying on your exceptional skill and judgment, along with appropriate advice. If you manage to buy them for that price, please bring them to your place, have a frame made for the second one, which I see currently has none, matching the frame of the other painting, and have the old frame re-gilded; then carefully pack them up and send them to me via Rouen.
I hear much of your conversing with ‘les beaux esprits’ at Paris: I am very glad of it; it gives a degree of reputation, especially at Paris; and their conversation is generally instructive, though sometimes affected. It must be owned, that the polite conversation of the men and women of fashion at Paris, though not always very deep, is much less futile and frivolous than ours here. It turns at least upon some subject, something of taste, some point of history, criticism, and even philosophy; which, though probably not quite so solid as Mr. Locke’s, is, however, better, and more becoming rational beings, than our frivolous dissertations upon the weather, or upon whist. Monsieur du Clos observes, and I think very justly, ‘qu’il y a a present en France une fermentation universelle de la raison qui tend a se developper’. Whereas, I am sorry to say, that here that fermentation seems to have been over some years ago, the spirit evaporated, and only the dregs left. Moreover, ‘les beaux esprits’ at Paris are commonly well-bred, which ours very frequently are not; with the former your manners will be formed; with the latter, wit must generally be compounded for at the expense of manners. Are you acquainted with Marivaux, who has certainly studied, and is well acquainted with the heart; but who refines so much upon its ‘plis et replis’, and describes them so affectedly, that he often is unintelligible to his readers, and sometimes so, I dare say, to himself? Do you know ‘Crebillon le fils’? He is a fine painter and a pleasing writer; his characters are admirable and his reflections just. Frequent these people, and be glad, but not proud of frequenting them: never boast of it, as a proof of your own merit, nor insult, in a manner, other companies by telling them affectedly what you, Montesquieu and Fontenelle were talking of the other day; as I have known many people do here, with regard to Pope and Swift, who had never been twice in company with either; nor carry into other companies the ‘ton’ of those meetings of ‘beaux esprits’. Talk literature, taste, philosophy, etc., with them, ‘a la bonne heure’; but then, with the same ease, and more ‘enjouement’, talk ‘pom-pons, moires’, etc., with Madame de Blot, if she requires it. Almost every subject in the world has its proper time and place; in which no one is above or below discussion. The point is, to talk well upon the subject you talk upon; and the most trifling, frivolous subjects will still give a man of parts an opportunity of showing them. ‘L’usage du grand monde’ can alone teach that. That was the distinguishing characteristic of Alcibiades, and a happy one it was, that he could occasionally, and with so much ease, adopt the most different, and even the most opposite habits and manners, that each seemed natural to him. Prepare yourself for the great world, as the ‘athletae’ used to do for their exercises: oil (if I may use that expression) your mind and your manners, to give them the necessary suppleness and flexibility; strength alone will not do, as young people are too apt to think.
I hear you’ve been hanging out with the ‘beaux esprits’ in Paris: I'm really glad to hear that; it boosts your reputation, especially there. Their conversations are usually informative, although sometimes a bit pretentious. It has to be said that the polite conversation among fashionable men and women in Paris, while not always deep, is much less trivial than what we have here. At least, it revolves around some topic, something related to taste, a bit of history, criticism, or even philosophy; which, while probably not as solid as Mr. Locke’s ideas, is still better and more fitting for rational beings than our shallow discussions about the weather or whist. Monsieur du Clos rightly points out that “there is currently a universal fermentation of reason in France that is developing.” Unfortunately, I have to say that here that fermentation seems to have evaporated years ago, leaving only the residue behind. Moreover, the ‘beaux esprits’ in Paris are usually well-mannered, which our people often are not; with the former, your manners will be shaped; with the latter, wit often comes at the cost of etiquette. Are you familiar with Marivaux? He certainly studied and understands the heart, but he overanalyzes its “folds and pleats” so much and describes them so pretentiously that he often becomes unintelligible to his readers, and sometimes even to himself, I dare say. Do you know ‘Crebillon le fils’? He is a great writer and a talented storyteller; his characters are excellent, and his insights are spot on. Spend time with these people and enjoy it, but don’t let it go to your head: never brag about it as a measure of your worth, nor put other groups down by pretentiously droning on about what you, Montesquieu, and Fontenelle were discussing the other day; I've seen plenty of people here do that about Pope and Swift without having had more than two encounters with either. Also, don’t bring the tone from those gatherings of ‘beaux esprits’ into other groups. Talk about literature, taste, philosophy, etc., with them, but then, just as casually and with more lightheartedness, discuss ‘pom-pons, moires,’ etc., with Madame de Blot, if she wants to. Almost any topic has its proper time and place for discussion, where no one is above or below it. The point is to speak well on whatever topic you’re discussing; even the most trivial subjects give a clever person a chance to shine. ‘Knowing how to navigate the high society’ can only teach that. That was the unique quality of Alcibiades, and a fortunate one it was, that he could easily adapt to the most different and even opposite habits and manners, making them all seem natural to him. Prepare yourself for the high society, just like athletes would prepare for their events: polish (if I can say that) your mind and your manners, to give them the necessary flexibility and adaptability; strength alone won’t cut it, as young people often mistakenly believe.
How do your exercises go on? Can you manage a pretty vigorous ‘sauteur’ between the pillars? Are you got into stirrups yet? ‘Faites-vous assaut aux armes? But, above all, what does Marcel say of you? Is he satisfied? Pray be more particular in your accounts of yourself, for though I have frequent accounts of you from others, I desire to have your own too. Adieu. Yours, truly and friendly.
How are your exercises going? Are you able to do a pretty vigorous jump between the pillars? Have you gotten into the stirrups yet? Are you practicing with weapons? But, most importantly, what does Marcel think of you? Is he satisfied? Please be more detailed in your updates about yourself, because even though I hear about you often from others, I want to hear your perspective too. Goodbye. Yours, truly and friendly.
LETTER CXL
LONDON, May 2, O. S. 1751
DEAR FRIEND: Two accounts, which I have very lately received of you, from two good judges, have put me into great spirits, as they have given me reasonable hopes that you will soon acquire all that I believe you want: I mean the air, the address; the graces, and the manners of a man of fashion. As these two pictures of you are very unlike that which I received, and sent you some months ago, I will name the two painters: the first is an old friend and acquaintance of mine, Monsieur d’Aillon. His picture is, I hope, like you; for it is a very good one: Monsieur Tollot’s is still a better, and so advantageous a one, that I will not send you a copy of it, for fear of making you too vain. So far only I will tell you, that there was but one BUT in either of their accounts; and it was this: I gave d’Aillon the question ordinary and extraordinary, upon the important article of manners; and extorted this from him: But, since you will know it, he still wants that last beautiful varnish, which raises the colors, and gives brilliancy to the piece. Be persuaded that he will acquire it: he has too much sense not to know its value; and if I am not greatly mistaken, more persons than one are now endeavoring to give it him. Monsieur Tollot says: “In order to be exactly all that you wish him, he only wants those little nothings, those graces in detail, and that amiable ease, which can only be acquired by usage of the great world. I am assured that he is, in that respect, in good hands. I do not know whether that does not rather imply in fine arms.” Without entering into a nice discussion of the last question, I congratulate you and myself upon your being so near that point at which I so anxiously wish you to arrive. I am sure that all your attention and endeavors will be exerted; and, if exerted, they will succeed. Mr. Tollot says, that you are inclined to be fat, but I hope you will decline it as much as you can; not by taking anything corrosive to make you lean, but by taking as little as you can of those things that would make you fat. Drink no chocolate; take your coffee without cream: you cannot possibly avoid suppers at Paris, unless you avoid company too, which I would by no means have you do; but eat as little at supper as you can, and make even an allowance for that little at your dinners. Take occasionally a double dose of riding and fencing; and now that summer is come, walk a good deal in the Tuileries. It is a real inconvenience to anybody to be fat, and besides it is ungraceful for a young fellow. ‘A propos’, I had like to have forgot to tell you, that I charged Tollot to attend particularly to your utterence and diction; two points of the utmost importance. To the first he says: “His enunciation is not bad, but it is to be wished that it were still better; and he expresses himself with more fire than elegance. Usage of good company will instruct him likewise in that.” These, I allow, are all little things, separately; but aggregately, they make a most important and great article in the account of a gentleman. In the House of Commons you can never make a figure without elegance of style, and gracefulness of utterance; and you can never succeed as a courtier at your own Court, or as a minister at any other, without those innumerable ‘petite riens dans les manieres, et dans les attentions’. Mr. Yorke is by this time at Paris; make your court to him, but not so as to disgust, in the least, Lord Albemarle, who may possibly dislike your considering Mr. Yorke as the man of business, and him as only ‘pour orner la scene’. Whatever your opinion may be upon THAT POINT, take care not to let it appear; but be well with them both by showing no public preference to either.
DEAR FRIEND: I've recently received two accounts about you from two reliable sources, and they’ve really lifted my spirits. They’ve given me reasonable hope that you’ll soon gain everything I believe you need: that is, the style, the social skills, the charm, and the manners of a fashionable man. Since these two descriptions of you are very different from the one I received and sent to you a few months ago, I’ll name the two evaluators: the first is an old friend of mine, Monsieur d’Aillon. I hope his picture of you is accurate, because it's a very good one. Monsieur Tollot’s is even better, and it’s such a flattering portrayal that I won’t send you a copy for fear of making you too vain. I’ll only tell you that there was one small drawback in either of their accounts: I gave d’Aillon the usual and unusual questions regarding the important topic of manners, and he reluctantly admitted this: you still need that final touch that enhances everything and adds brilliance to the whole piece. Trust that you will acquire it: you’re smart enough to understand its value, and if I’m not mistaken, more than one person is currently trying to help you get it. Monsieur Tollot says, “To be exactly what you wish him to be, he just needs those little details, that charm in the finer points, and that natural ease, which can only come from being around high society. I’m assured he’s in good hands regarding that. I don’t know if that also implies having the right connections.” Without getting into a detailed discussion about that last point, I’m glad for you and for myself that you’re so close to reaching the point I’ve been eagerly hoping for you to arrive at. I’m sure you will put forth all your focus and effort; and if you do, you’ll succeed. Mr. Tollot says you might gain some weight, but I hope you manage to avoid it as much as you can—not by using harmful methods to lose weight, but by simply eating less of what tends to make you gain weight. Avoid chocolate; have your coffee without cream: you won’t be able to skip dinners in Paris, unless you avoid company altogether, which I certainly wouldn’t want you to do. However, eat as little as possible at dinner and adjust your lunch accordingly. Make sure you get plenty of riding and fencing in; and now that summer is here, walk a lot in the Tuileries. Being overweight is genuinely inconvenient for anyone and looks ungraceful for a young man. By the way, I almost forgot to mention that I asked Tollot to pay special attention to your speech and diction—two very important areas. Regarding the first, he says, “His enunciation isn’t bad, but it would be better if it were improved; he expresses himself with more passion than elegance. Being around good company will help him learn that.” I admit, these are all minor details on their own, but together, they make a significant difference in the profile of a gentleman. In the House of Commons, you can’t make an impact without having style and a graceful way of speaking; and you will struggle to succeed as a courtier at your own court or as a minister anywhere else without those countless little nuances in your mannerisms and attentiveness. Mr. Yorke is probably in Paris by now; make your effort to gain his favor, but don’t do it in a way that annoys Lord Albemarle, who might not appreciate you treating Mr. Yorke as the primary decision-maker and himself just as someone to enhance the scene. Regardless of your feelings on THAT MATTER, be careful not to show it; cultivate a good relationship with both by not favoring one over the other publicly.
Though I must necessarily fall into repetitions by treating the same subject so often, I cannot help recommending to you again the utmost attention to your air and address. Apply yourself now to Marcel’s lectures, as diligently as you did formerly to Professor Mascow’s; desire him to teach you every genteel attitude that the human body can be put into; let him make you go in and out of his room frequently, and present yourself to him, as if he were by turns different persons; such as a minister, a lady, a superior, an equal, and inferior, etc. Learn to seat genteelly in different companies; to loll genteelly, and with good manners, in those companies where you are authorized to be free, and to sit up respectfully where the same freedom is not allowable. Learn even to compose your countenance occasionally to the respectful, the cheerful, and the insinuating. Take particular care that the motions of your hands and arms be easy and graceful; for the genteelness of a man consists more in them than in anything else, especially in his dancing. Desire some women to tell you of any little awkwardness that they observe in your carriage; they are the best judges of those things; and if they are satisfied, the men will be so too. Think now only of the decorations. Are you acquainted with Madame Geoffrain, who has a great deal of wit; and who, I am informed, receives only the very best company in her house? Do you know Madame du Pin, who, I remember, had beauty, and I hear has wit and reading? I could wish you to converse only with those who, either from their rank, their merit, or their beauty, require constant attention; for a young man can never improve in company where he thinks he may neglect himself. A new bow must be constantly kept bent; when it grows older, and has taken the right turn, it may now and then be relaxed.
Even though I have to repeat myself by discussing the same topic so often, I can't help but stress again how important it is for you to pay attention to your posture and presence. Focus on Marcel’s lectures now just like you did before with Professor Mascow's; ask him to teach you every elegant pose the human body can assume. Have him make you enter and exit his room frequently, and present yourself to him as if he were different people at times, like a minister, a lady, a superior, an equal, and an inferior, etc. Learn to sit elegantly in various settings; to relax gracefully in places where you're allowed to be more casual, and to sit up respectfully where such freedom isn’t appropriate. Practice adjusting your facial expressions to show respect, cheerfulness, or friendliness as needed. Pay close attention to keep your hand and arm movements smooth and graceful; the elegance of a person relies more on these than on anything else, especially in dancing. Ask some women to point out any awkwardness they notice in your demeanor; they are the best judges of these things, and if they are pleased, the men will be too. Now, think only about your social circle. Do you know Madame Geoffrain, who is very witty and is said to host only the finest company at her home? What about Madame du Pin, who I recall is beautiful, and I've heard is also witty and well-read? I suggest you engage only with those who, due to their status, qualities, or looks, demand your full attention; a young man cannot grow if he feels he can let himself go in the company he keeps. A new bow needs to be constantly kept taut; once it’s older and has taken the right shape, it can occasionally be relaxed.
I have this moment paid your draft of L89 75s.; it was signed in a very good hand; which proves that a good hand may be written without the assistance of magic. Nothing provokes me much more, than to hear people indolently say that they cannot do, what is in everybody’s power to do, if it be but in their will. Adieu.
I just paid your check for £89 75s.; it was signed in a very nice handwriting, which shows that good handwriting can be done without any special tricks. Nothing annoys me more than hearing people lazily say they can’t do what everyone is capable of doing if only they put their mind to it. Goodbye.
LETTER CXLI
LONDON, May 6, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The best authors are always the severest critics of their own works; they revise, correct, file, and polish them, till they think they have brought them to perfection. Considering you as my work, I do not look upon myself as a bad author, and am therefore a severe critic. I examine narrowly into the least inaccuracy or inelegance, in order to correct, not to expose them, and that the work may be perfect at last. You are, I know, exceedingly improved in your air, address, and manners, since you have been at Paris; but still there is, I believe, room for further improvement before you come to that perfection which I have set my heart upon seeing you arrive at; and till that moment I must continue filing and polishing. In a letter that I received by last post, from a friend of yours at Paris, there was this paragraph: “I have the honor to assure you, without flattery, that Mr. Stanhope succeeds beyond what might be expected from a person of his age. He goes into very good company; and that kind of manner, which was at first thought to be too decisive and peremptory, is now judged otherwise; because it is acknowledged to be the effect of an ingenuous frankness, accompanied by politeness, and by a proper deference. He studies to please, and succeeds. Madame du Puisieux was the other day speaking of him with complacency and friendship. You will be satisfied with him in all respects.” This is extremely well, and I rejoice at it: one little circumstance only may, and I hope will, be altered for the better. Take pains to undeceive those who thought that ‘petit ton un peu delcide et un peu brusque’; as it is not meant so, let it not appear so. Compose your countenance to an air of gentleness and ‘douceur’, use some expressions of diffidence of your own opinion, and deference to other people’s; such as, “If I might be permitted to say—I should think—Is it not rather so? At least I have the greatest reason to be diffident of myself.” Such mitigating, engaging words do by no means weaken your argument; but, on the contrary, make it more powerful by making it more pleasing. If it is a quick and hasty manner of speaking that people mistake ‘pour decide et brusque’, prevent their mistakes for the future by speaking more deliberately, and taking a softer tone of voice; as in this case you are free from the guilt, be free from the suspicion, too. Mankind, as I have often told you, are more governed by appearances than by realities; and with regard to opinion, one had better be really rough and hard, with the appearance of gentleness and softness, than just the reverse. Few people have penetration enough to discover, attention enough to observe, or even concern enough to examine beyond the exterior; they take their notions from the surface, and go no deeper: they commend, as the gentlest and best-natured man in the world, that man who has the most engaging exterior manner, though possibly they have been but once in his company. An air, a tone of voice, a composure of countenance to mildness and softness, which are all easily acquired, do the business: and without further examination, and possibly with the contrary qualities, that man is reckoned the gentlest, the modestest, and the best-natured man alive. Happy the man, who, with a certain fund of parts and knowledge, gets acquainted with the world early enough to make it his bubble, at an age when most people are the bubbles of the world! for that is the common case of youth. They grow wiser when it is too late; and, ashamed and vexed at having been bubbles so long, too often turn knaves at last. Do not therefore trust to appearances and outside yourself, but pay other people with them; because you may be sure that nine in ten of mankind do, and ever will trust to them. This is by no means a criminal or blamable simulation, if not used with an ill intention. I am by no means blamable in desiring to have other people’s good word, good-will, and affection, if I do not mean to abuse them. Your heart, I know, is good, your sense is sound, and your knowledge extensive. What then remains for you to do? Nothing, but to adorn those fundamental qualifications, with such engaging and captivating manners, softness, and gentleness, as will endear you to those who are able to judge of your real merit, and which always stand in the stead of merit with those who are not. I do not mean by this to recommend to you ‘le fade doucereux’, the insipid softness of a gentle fool; no, assert your own opinion, oppose other people’s when wrong; but let your manner, your air, your terms, and your tone of voice, be soft and gentle, and that easily and naturally, not affectedly. Use palliatives when you contradict; such as I MAY BE MISTAKEN, I AM NOT SURE, BUT I BELIEVE, I SHOULD RATHER THINK, etc. Finish any argument or dispute with some little good-humored pleasantry, to show that you are neither hurt yourself, nor meant to hurt your antagonist; for an argument, kept up a good while, often occasions a temporary alienation on each side. Pray observe particularly, in those French people who are distinguished by that character, ‘cette douceur de moeurs et de manieres’, which they talk of so much, and value so justly; see in what it consists; in mere trifles, and most easy to be acquired, where the heart is really good. Imitate, copy it, till it becomes habitual and easy to you. Without a compliment to you, I take it to be the only thing you now want: nothing will sooner give it you than a real passion, or, at least, ‘un gout vif’, for some woman of fashion; and, as I suppose that you have either the one or the other by this time, you are consequently in the best school. Besides this, if you were to say to Lady Hervey, Madame Monconseil, or such others as you look upon to be your friends, It is said that I have a kind of manner which is rather too decisive and too peremptory; it is not, however, my intention that it should be so; I entreat you to correct, and even publicly to punish me whenever I am guilty. Do not treat me with the least indulgence, but criticise to the utmost. So clear-sighted a judge as you has a right to be severe; and I promise you that the criminal will endeavor to correct himself. Yesterday I had two of your acquaintances to dine with me, Baron B. and his companion Monsieur S. I cannot say of the former, ‘qu’il est paitri de graces’; and I would rather advise him to go and settle quietly at home, than to think of improving himself by further travels. ‘Ce n’est pas le bois don’t on en fait’. His companion is much better, though he has a strong ‘tocco di tedesco’. They both spoke well of you, and so far I liked them both. How go you on with the amiable little Blot? Does she listen to your Battering tale? Are you numbered among the list of her admirers? Is Madame———your Madame de Lursay? Does she sometimes knot, and are you her Meilcour? They say she has softness, sense, and engaging manners; in such an apprenticeship much may be learned.—[This whole passage, and several others, allude to Crebillon’s ‘Egaremens du Coeur et de l’Esprit’, a sentimental novel written about that time, and then much in vogue at Paris.]
MY DEAR FRIEND: The best authors are always their harshest critics; they revise, correct, refine, and polish their work until they believe it’s perfect. Considering you as my project, I don’t think I’m a bad author, and so I am a tough critic. I scrutinize every little inaccuracy or awkwardness to correct them, not to expose them, so that the work can ultimately be perfect. I know you’ve improved significantly in your demeanor, presence, and manners since you’ve been in Paris; however, I believe there’s still room for further growth before you reach the level of perfection I’m eager to see you achieve. Until that moment comes, I must keep refining and polishing. In a letter I received in the last post from a friend of yours in Paris, there was this paragraph: “I have the honor to assure you, without flattery, that Mr. Stanhope is performing beyond what one could expect from someone his age. He associates with very good company; what was initially seen as being too decisive and blunt is now viewed differently because it’s recognized as a genuine frankness paired with politeness and appropriate respect. He aims to please, and he succeeds. Madame du Puisieux recently spoke of him with warmth and friendship. You will be pleased with him in every way.” This is excellent news, and I’m thrilled about it. There’s just one small point that I hope will improve. Make an effort to correct those who think you have ‘a rather sharp and a bit brusque’ manner; since it’s not intended that way, it shouldn’t be perceived that way. Present your face with an expression of gentleness and softness, use phrases that express humility about your own opinions, and show respect for others' views; things like, “If I may say— I think—Is it not so? At least, I have every reason to doubt myself.” Such softening, engaging language doesn’t weaken your argument; rather, it strengthens it by making it more agreeable. If it’s a hasty way of speaking that people mistake for being decisive and brusque, prevent their future misunderstandings by speaking more slowly and adopting a softer tone; since you are innocent of the fault, be free from the suspicion of it too. As I’ve often told you, people are more influenced by appearances than by reality; in terms of opinion, it’s better to be genuinely tough and rigid while seeming gentle and soft than the opposite. Few have the insight to see past the surface, the attention to notice, or the concern to examine what lies beneath; they form their opinions based on the outer appearance and nothing more: they praise the gentlest and best-natured person in the world, who might only have the most charming exterior, even if they’ve only met him once. An air, a tone of voice, a calm demeanor signaling mildness and softness— all of which are easily acquired— do the trick: without further investigation, and possibly with contrary qualities, that person is considered the gentlest, the most modest, and the kindest man alive. The lucky man is one who, with a certain intelligence and knowledge, gets acquainted with the world early enough to control it, at an age when most people are controlled by it! That’s the usual plight of youth. They become wiser only when it’s too late; embarrassed and frustrated at having been controlled for so long, they often end up turning deceitful. So don’t rely solely on appearances and external factors for yourself, but treat others with them; because you can be sure that nine out of ten people do, and always will. This isn’t a criminal or blameworthy pretense if it’s not used maliciously. I’m certainly not to be blamed for wanting to earn others’ good opinions, goodwill, and affection, as long as I don’t intend to misuse them. I know your heart is good, your judgment sound, and your knowledge extensive. So what do you have left to do? Simply to enhance those fundamental qualities with engaging and charming manners, softness, and gentleness that’ll endear you to those who can truly appreciate your worth, and which always substitute for worth with those who cannot. I don’t mean to suggest you adopt an insipid, bland softness of a gentle fool; no, stand by your opinions, challenge others when they are wrong; but let your manner, your demeanor, your choice of words, and your tone of voice be soft and gentle, and do so effortlessly, not in a forced way. Use softening phrases when you disagree; such as I MAY BE MISTAKEN, I’M NOT SURE, BUT I BELIEVE, I SHOULD RATHER THINK, etc. Wrap up any argument or disagreement with a bit of good-humored lightness, to show that you’re neither offended nor aiming to offend your opponent; because a prolonged argument often creates a temporary distance on both sides. Please pay special attention to those French people who are distinguished by ‘that sweetness of manners and demeanor’ they talk about so much and justly value; observe the components that make it up; in trivialities that are most easily acquired when the heart is genuinely good. Imitate it, mimic it, until it becomes second nature to you. Without flattering you, I think this is the only thing you currently lack: nothing will teach you faster than a real passion or, at the very least, a strong liking for some fashionable woman; and, since I presume you have either one or the other by now, you’re consequently in the best learning environment. Additionally, if you were to tell Lady Hervey, Madame Monconseil, or others you consider friends, that people say you have a manner that’s rather too decisive and too blunt; it’s not, however, your intention for it to be so; I beg you to correct and even publicly criticize me whenever I’m at fault. Don’t treat me with any leniency, but critique me to the fullest extent. Such a perceptive judge as you has the right to be demanding, and I promise you that the defendant will strive to amend himself. Yesterday, I had two of your acquaintances over for dinner, Baron B. and his friend Monsieur S. I can’t say of the former, ‘he is without grace’; I would rather suggest he should go home and settle silently than think about improving himself through further travels. ‘It’s not the wood from which he is made.’ His companion is much better, though he has a strong ‘touch of German’. They both spoke well of you, and for that, I liked them both. How are you getting along with the charming little Blot? Is she captivated by your flattery? Are you one of her admirers? Is Madame-----your Madame de Lursay? Does she sometimes nod, and are you her Meilcour? They say she embodies grace, intelligence, and engaging manners; in such an apprenticeship, you can learn a lot. —[This whole passage, and several others, allude to Crebillon’s ‘Egaremens du Coeur et de l’Esprit’, a sentimental novel written around that time, which was quite popular in Paris.]
A woman like her, who has always pleased, and often been pleased, can best teach the art of pleasing; that art, without which, ‘ogni fatica vana’. Marcel’s lectures are no small part of that art: they are the engaging forerunner of all other accomplishments. Dress is also an article not to be neglected, and I hope you do not neglect it; it helps in the ‘premier abord’, which is often decisive. By dress, I mean your clothes being well made, fitting you, in the fashion and not above it; your hair well done, and a general cleanliness and spruceness in your person. I hope you take infinite care of your teeth; the consequences of neglecting the mouth are serious, not only to one’s self, but to others. In short, my dear child, neglect nothing; a little more will complete the whole. Adieu. I have not heard from you these three weeks, which I think a great while.
A woman like her, who has always brought pleasure and often found it herself, is the best teacher of how to please; that skill is essential, without which all effort is wasted. Marcel’s lectures are a significant part of that skill: they are the interesting introduction to all other achievements. Dress is also something not to overlook, and I hope you pay attention to it; it makes a big difference at first glance, which is often crucial. By dress, I mean your clothes should be well-made and fit you, stylish but not overdone; your hair should look nice, and you should maintain a general cleanliness and neatness. I hope you take great care of your teeth; neglecting your mouth can have serious consequences, not just for you, but for others too. In short, my dear child, spare no effort; just a little more will make it complete. Goodbye. I haven’t heard from you in three weeks, which feels like a long time.
LETTER CXLII
LONDON, May 10, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday, at the same time, your letters of the 4th and 11th, N. S., and being much more careful of my commissions than you are of yours, I do not delay one moment sending you my final instructions concerning the pictures. The man you allow to be a Titian, and in good preservation; the woman is an indifferent and a damaged picture; but as I want them for furniture for a particular room, companions are necessary; and therefore I am willing to take the woman for better for worse, upon account of the man; and if she is not too much damaged, I can have her tolerably repaired, as many a fine woman is, by a skillful hand here; but then I expect that the lady should be, in a manner, thrown into the bargain with the man; and, in this state of affairs, the woman being worth little or nothing, I will not go above fourscore Louis for the two together. As for the Rembrandt you mention, though it is very cheap, if good, I do not care for it. I love ‘la belle nature’; Rembrandt paints caricatures. Now for your own commissions, which you seem to have forgotten. You mention nothing of the patterns which you received by Monsieur Tollot, though I told you in a former letter, which you must have had before the date of your last, that I should stay till I received the patterns pitched upon by your ladies; for as to the instructions which you sent me in Madame Monconseil’s hand, I could find no mohairs in London that exactly answered that description; I shall, therefore, wait till you send me (which you may easily do in a letter) the patterns chosen by your three graces.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received both your letters from the 4th and 11th of this month yesterday, and since I care much more about my commissions than you do about yours, I won’t waste any time sending you my final instructions regarding the paintings. The man you believe to be a Titian is well preserved; however, the woman is not great and is damaged. But since I need them as decor for a specific room, I’ll accept the woman for better or worse because of the man. If she’s not too badly damaged, I can get her nicely repaired by a skilled artist here, as they often do with many fine women. However, I expect the lady to somewhat be included with the man in this deal, and given that the woman is nearly worthless, I won’t pay more than eighty Louis for both. Regarding the Rembrandt you mentioned, even though it’s quite cheap if good, I’m not interested. I prefer "la belle nature"; Rembrandt makes caricatures. Now about your own commissions, which you seem to have overlooked. You didn’t mention the patterns you got from Monsieur Tollot, even though I informed you in a previous letter, which you must have received before your last one, that I would wait until I got the patterns chosen by your ladies. As for the instructions you sent me in Madame Monconseil’s handwriting, I couldn’t find any mohairs in London that exactly matched your description, so I'll wait until you send me (which you can easily do in a letter) the patterns selected by your three graces.
I would, by all means, have you go now and then, for two or three days, to Marechal Coigny’s, at Orli; it is but a proper civility to that family, which has been particularly civil to you; and, moreover, I would have you familiarize yourself with, and learn the interior and domestic manners of, people of that rank and fashion. I also desire that you will frequent Versailles and St. Cloud, at both of which courts you have been received with distinction. Profit of that distinction, and familiarize yourself at both. Great courts are the seats of true good-breeding; you are to live at courts, lose no time in learning them. Go and stay sometimes at Versailles for three or four days, where you will be domestic in the best families, by means of your friend Madame de Puisieux; and mine, l’Abbe de la Ville. Go to the King’s and the Dauphin’s levees, and distinguish yourself from the rest of your countrymen, who, I dare say, never go there when they can help it. Though the young Frenchmen of fashion may not be worth forming intimate connections with, they are well worth making acquaintance of; and I do not see how you can avoid it, frequenting so many good French houses as you do, where, to be sure, many of them come. Be cautious how you contract friendships, but be desirous, and even industrious, to obtain a universal acquaintance. Be easy, and even forward, in making new acquaintances; that is the only way of knowing manners and characters in general, which is, at present, your great object. You are ‘enfant de famille’ in three ministers’ houses; but I wish you had a footing, at least, in thirteen and that, I should think, you might easily bring about, by that common chain, which, to a certain degree, connects those you do not with those you do know.
I definitely want you to go now and then, for two or three days, to Marechal Coigny's place in Orli; it's just good manners to that family, which has been particularly kind to you. Also, I want you to get to know and understand the home and social ways of people at that level. I also hope you will spend time at Versailles and St. Cloud, where you have been welcomed with respect. Take advantage of that recognition and get comfortable in both places. Big courts are where true refinement is found; you should be spending time at court and learning the ropes. Go and stay at Versailles for three or four days, where you'll be at home in the best families, thanks to your friend Madame de Puisieux and to mine, l’Abbe de la Ville. Attend the King’s and the Dauphin’s levees, and set yourself apart from the rest of your fellow countrymen, who I’m sure avoid it whenever possible. While the young Frenchmen of high society may not be worth forming close connections with, they are definitely worth getting to know; and I don’t see how you can avoid it, given how often you visit so many good French homes, where many of them show up. Be careful when forming friendships, but be eager and proactive in making acquaintances. That's the best way to learn about manners and people in general, which is your main focus right now. You are a "member of the family" in three ministers’ homes, but I wish you had access to at least thirteen, and I think you could easily manage that through the common connections that link those you don’t know with those you do.
For instance, I suppose that neither Lord Albemarle, nor Marquis de St. Germain, would make the least difficulty to present you to Comte Caunitz, the Nuncio, etc. ‘Il faut etre rompu du monde’, which can only be done by an extensive, various, and almost universal acquaintance.
For example, I think that neither Lord Albemarle nor Marquis de St. Germain would have any trouble introducing you to Comte Caunitz, the Nuncio, and so on. "You have to be worldly-wise," which can only be achieved through a wide-ranging, diverse, and nearly universal network of acquaintances.
When you have got your emaciated Philomath, I desire that his triangles, rhomboids, etc., may not keep you one moment out of the good company you would otherwise be in. Swallow all your learning in the morning, but digest it in company in the evenings. The reading of ten new characters is more your business now, than the reading of twenty old books; showish and shining people always get the better of all others, though ever so solid. If you would be a great man in the world when you are old, shine and be showish in it while you are young, know everybody, and endeavor to please everybody, I mean exteriorly; for fundamentally it is impossible. Try to engage the heart of every woman, and the affections of almost every man you meet with. Madame Monconseil assures me that you are most surprisingly improved in your air, manners, and address: go on, my dear child, and never think that you are come to a sufficient degree of perfection; ‘Nil actum reputans, si quid superesset agendum’; and in those shining parts of the character of a gentleman, there is always something remaining to be acquired. Modes and manners vary in different places, and at different times; you must keep pace with them, know them, and adopt them, wherever you find them. The great usage of the world, the knowledge of characters, the brillant dun ‘galant homme,’ is all that you now want. Study Marcel and the ‘beau monde’ with great application, but read Homer and Horace only when you have nothing else to do. Pray who is ‘la belle Madame de Case’, whom I know you frequent? I like the epithet given her very well: if she deserves it, she deserves your attention too. A man of fashion should be gallant to a fine woman, though he does not make love to her, or may be otherwise engaged. On ‘lui doit des politesses, on fait l’eloge de ses charmes, et il n’en est ni plus ni moins pour cela’: it pleases, it flatters; you get their good word, and you lose nothing by it. These ‘gentillesses’ should be accompanied, as indeed everything else should, with an air: ‘un air, un ton de douceur et de politesse’. Les graces must be of the party, or it will never do; and they are so easily had, that it is astonishing to me that everybody has them not; they are sooner gained than any woman of common reputation and decency. Pursue them but with care and attention, and you are sure to enjoy them at last: without them, I am sure, you will never enjoy anybody else. You observe, truly, that Mr.———is gauche; it is to be hoped that will mend with keeping company; and is yet pardonable in him, as just come from school. But reflect what you would think of a man, who had been any time in the world, and yet should be so awkward. For God’s sake, therefore, now think of nothing but shining, and even distinguishing yourself in the most polite courts, by your air, your address, your manners, your politeness, your ‘douceur’, your graces. With those advantages (and not without them) take my word for it, you will get the better of all rivals, in business as well as in ‘ruelles’. Adieu. Send me your patterns, by the next post, and also your instructions to Grevenkop about the seal, which you seem to have forgotten.
When you’ve got your skinny Philomath, I hope his triangles, rhomboids, and so on don't keep you from the good company you could be in. Take in all your learning in the morning, but process it with friends in the evenings. Reading ten new characters is more important for you now than reading twenty old books; flashy and charming people always come out on top, no matter how solid others are. If you want to be a great person in the world when you’re older, be flashy and charismatic while you’re young, meet everyone, and try to make everyone like you—at least on the surface; because fundamentally, that’s impossible. Work on winning the heart of every woman and the respect of almost every man you encounter. Madame Monconseil tells me you’ve surprisingly improved in your presence, manners, and approach: keep it up, my dear child, and never think you've reached perfection; ‘Nil actum reputans, si quid superesset agendum’; there’s always something left to learn about the qualities of a gentleman. Styles and manners change in different places and times; you need to keep up with them, understand them, and adopt them wherever you find them. What you need now is a good grasp of how the world works, understanding people, and being a ‘brilliant gentleman.’ Focus on studying Marcel and the ‘beau monde’ diligently, but read Homer and Horace only when you have nothing else to do. By the way, who is ‘la belle Madame de Case,’ whom I know you see? I really like the title given to her: if she deserves it, she deserves your attention too. A fashionable man should be charming to a lovely woman, even if he isn't pursuing her or is otherwise occupied. You owe her politeness, praise her charms, and it won't change anything in that regard: it pleases, flatters; you win their good opinion and lose nothing in the process. These ‘gentillesses’ should come across with style: ‘a refined air, a tone of softness and politeness.’ Grace must be part of it, or it won’t work; and they’re so easy to have, it's surprising that not everyone does. They’re easier to gain than many respectable women. Pursue them carefully and attentively, and you’re sure to enjoy them eventually: without them, I’m sure you won’t enjoy anyone else. You’ve correctly noted that Mr.———is clumsy; let’s hope that improves with socializing, and it's somewhat excusable since he just came from school. But think about what you would think of someone who’d spent time in the world and yet was that awkward. So for heaven’s sake, focus solely on shining and standing out in the most refined courts, through your presence, your approach, your manners, your politeness, your charm, your grace. With those qualities (and you can’t do without them), trust me, you will outshine all rivals, in both business and social settings. Goodbye. Send me your samples by the next post, and also your notes to Grevenkop about the seal, which you seem to have forgotten.
LETTER CXLIII
LONDON, May 16, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: In about three months from this day, we shall probably meet. I look upon that moment as a young woman does upon her bridal night; I expect the greatest pleasure, and yet cannot help fearing some little mixture of pain. My reason bids me doubt a little, of what my imagination makes me expect. In some articles I am very sure that my most sanguine wishes will not be disappointed; and those are the most material ones. In others, I fear something or other, which I can better feel than describe. However, I will attempt it. I fear the want of that amiable and engaging ‘je ne sais quoi’, which as some philosophers have, unintelligibly enough, said of the soul, is all in all, and all in every part; it should shed its influence over every word and action. I fear the want of that air, and first ‘abord’, which suddenly lays hold of the heart, one does not know distinctly how or why. I fear an inaccuracy, or, at least, inelegance of diction, which will wrong, and lower, the best and justest matter. And, lastly, I fear an ungraceful, if not an unpleasant utterance, which would disgrace and vilify the whole. Should these fears be at present founded, yet the objects of them are (thank God) of such a nature, that you may, if you please, between this and our meeting, remove everyone of them. All these engaging and endearing accomplishments are mechanical, and to be acquired by care and observation, as easily as turning, or any mechanical trade. A common country fellow, taken from the plow, and enlisted in an old corps, soon lays aside his shambling gait, his slouching air, his clumsy and awkward motions: and acquires the martial air, the regular motions, and whole exercise of the corps, and particularly of his right and left hand man. How so? Not from his parts; which were just the same before as after he was enlisted; but either from a commendable ambition of being like, and equal to those he is to live with; or else from the fear of being punished for not being so. If then both or either of these motives change such a fellow, in about six months’ time, to such a degree, as that he is not to be known again, how much stronger should both these motives be with you, to acquire, in the utmost perfection, the whole exercise of the people of fashion, with whom you are to live all your life? Ambition should make you resolve to be at least their equal in that exercise, as well as the fear of punishment; which most inevitably will attend the want of it. By that exercise, I mean the air, the manners, the graces, and the style of people of fashion. A friend of yours, in a letter I received from him by the last post, after some other commendations of you, says, “It is surprising that, thinking with so much solidity as he does, and having so true and refined a taste, he should express himself with so little elegance and delicacy. He even totally neglects the choice of words and turn of phrases.”
MY DEAR FRIEND: In about three months from today, we will likely meet. I see that moment like a young woman sees her wedding night; I expect immense joy but also can't shake off a slight fear of pain. My mind tells me to doubt a bit what my imagination leads me to expect. For some things, I'm quite sure that my highest hopes won't be disappointed, and those are the most important ones. For others, I have some vague fears that I can feel but can't clearly articulate. Still, I'll try. I fear that I'll miss that charming and captivating quality, that 'je ne sais quoi' which some philosophers, in a confusing way, say is essential for the soul, influencing every word and action. I fear the lack of that presence and initial charm that suddenly captures the heart in a way that's hard to pinpoint. I'm also concerned about errors, or at least a lack of elegance in expression, which could diminish the best and most accurate points. Finally, I worry about an ungraceful, if not unpleasant, way of speaking that could tarnish and degrade everything. If these fears are valid, thankfully the things I'm worried about are such that you can, if you wish, eliminate every single one of them between now and our meeting. All these charming and lovable traits can be learned with care and attention, just as easily as any skilled trade. A simple country guy, pulled from the fields and drafted into an old regiment, soon sheds his awkward demeanor, slouching posture, and clumsy movements for a more polished military bearing, smooth motions, and the full exercises of the regiment, especially of his right and left hand companions. How does this happen? Not due to any inherent quality, which remains unchanged, but rather from a commendable drive to match and fit in with those around him or from the fear of being punished for not doing so. If both or either of these motivations can transform someone in about six months to the point where they are almost unrecognizable, how much stronger should these motivations be for you to master, perfectly, the social graces of the fashionable people you will be with for the rest of your life? Ambition should compel you to at least measure up to them in this area, just as the fear of consequences will inevitably follow a lack of it. By 'exercise,' I mean the demeanor, manners, graces, and style of fashionable people. A friend of yours, in a letter I got from him in the last mail, after some other compliments about you, states, “It’s surprising that someone who thinks so deeply and has such a true, refined taste would express themselves with such little elegance and delicacy. He even completely neglects the choice of words and phrasing.”
This I should not be so much surprised or concerned at, if it related only to the English language; which hitherto you have had no opportunity of studying, and but few of speaking, at least to those who could correct your inaccuracies. But if you do not express yourself elegantly and delicately in French and German, (both which languages I know you possess perfectly and speak eternally) it can be only from an unpardonable inattention to what you most erroneously think a little object, though, in truth, it is one of the most important of your life. Solidity and delicacy of thought must be given us: it cannot be acquired, though it may be improved; but elegance and delicacy of expression may be acquired by whoever will take the necessary care and pains. I am sure you love me so well; that you would be very sorry when we meet, that I should be either disappointed or mortified; and I love you so well, that I assure you I should be both, if I should find you want any of those exterior accomplishments which are the indispensably necessary steps to that figure and fortune, which I so earnestly wish you may one day make in the world.
I shouldn't be so surprised or worried about this if it were only about the English language, which you haven't had much chance to study or speak, at least not with people who could correct your mistakes. But if you don't express yourself elegantly and delicately in French and German—both of which I know you speak perfectly and all the time—it must be due to a serious lack of attention to what you mistakenly consider a minor detail, even though it is actually one of the most important aspects of your life. Clarity and depth of thought are things we are given; they can't be learned, though they can be improved. However, elegance and delicacy in expression can be learned by anyone willing to put in the necessary effort. I know you care about me enough that you would feel very upset when we meet if I were disappointed or embarrassed. And I care about you so much that I assure you I would feel both if I find you lacking any of those essential skills and qualities that are crucial for the success and standing I hope you achieve in the world one day.
I hope you do not neglect your exercises of riding, fencing, and dancing, but particularly the latter: for they all concur to ‘degourdir’, and to give a certain air. To ride well, is not only a proper and graceful accomplishment for a gentleman, but may also save you many a fall hereafter; to fence well, may possibly save your life; and to dance well, is absolutely necessary in order to sit, stand, and walk well. To tell you the truth, my friend, I have some little suspicion that you now and then neglect or omit your exercises, for more serious studies. But now ‘non est his locus’, everything has its time; and this is yours for your exercises; for when you return to Paris I only propose your continuing your dancing; which you shall two years longer, if you happen to be where there is a good dancing-master. Here I will see you take some lessons with your old master Desnoyers, who is our Marcel.
I hope you don’t overlook your practice of riding, fencing, and dancing, especially the last one. They all help you find your balance and give you a certain style. Riding well is not only a refined and elegant skill for a gentleman, but it can also prevent you from getting hurt in the future. Fencing well might even save your life, and dancing well is essential for sitting, standing, and walking with grace. Honestly, my friend, I suspect that you sometimes skip your exercises for more serious studies. But now is not the time for that; everything has its place, and this moment is for your practice. When you return to Paris, I just want you to continue your dancing for another two years, provided you're with a good dance teacher. While you're here, I’ll arrange for you to take some lessons with your old teacher Desnoyers, who is our Marcel.
What says Madame du Pin to you? I am told she is very handsome still; I know she was some few years ago. She has good parts, reading, manners, and delicacy: such an arrangement would be both creditable and advantageous to you. She will expect to meet with all the good-breeding and delicacy that she brings; and as she is past the glare and ‘eclat’ of youth, may be the more willing to listen to your story, if you tell it well. For an attachment, I should prefer her to ‘la petite Blot’; and, for a mere gallantry, I should prefer ‘la petite Blot’ to her; so that they are consistent, et ‘l’un n’emplche pas l’autre’. Adieu. Remember ‘la douceur et les graces’.
What does Madame du Pin mean to you? I hear she's still very attractive; I know she was a few years back. She has good qualities—like reading, manners, and grace—and being with her would be both respectable and beneficial for you. She will expect to find the same level of politeness and elegance that she offers, and since she’s past the showiness of youth, she might be more open to hearing your story if you share it well. For a serious relationship, I'd prefer her over ‘la petite Blot’; but for a casual fling, I’d choose ‘la petite Blot’ over her. So, they are complementary; one doesn’t exclude the other. Goodbye. Remember ‘sweetness and charm’.
LETTER CXLIV
LONDON, May 23, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 25th N. S., and being rather something more attentive to my commissions than you are to yours, return you this immediate answer to the question you ask me about the two pictures: I will not give one livre more than what I told you in my last; having no sort of occasion for them, and not knowing very well where to put them if I had them.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I just received your letter from the 25th of this month, and being a bit more diligent about my tasks than you are about yours, I’m giving you this quick response to your question about the two pictures: I won’t pay a single livre more than what I mentioned in my last message, as I have no need for them and I don’t really know where I would put them if I had them.
I wait with impatience for your final orders about the mohairs; the mercer persecuting me every day for three pieces which I thought pretty, and which I have kept by me eventually, to secure them in case your ladies should pitch upon them.
I’m eagerly waiting for your final instructions about the mohairs; the fabric seller is bothering me every day for three pieces that I thought were nice, and I’ve held onto them just in case your ladies decide they want them.
If I durst! what should hinder you from daring? One always dares if there are hopes of success; and even if there are none, one is no loser by daring. A man of fashion knows how, and when, to dare. He begins his approaches by distant attacks, by assiduities, and by attentions. If he is not immediately and totally repulsed, he continues to advance. After certain steps success is infallible; and none but very silly fellows can then either doubt, or not attempt it. Is it the respectable character of Madame de la Valiere which prevents your daring, or are you intimidated at the fierce virtue of Madame du Pin? Does the invincible modesty of the handsome Madame Case discourage, more than her beauty invites you? Fie, for shame! Be convinced that the most virtuous woman, far from being offended at a declaration of love, is flattered by it, if it is made in a polite and agreeable manner. It is possible that she may not be propitious to your vows; that is to say, if she has a liking or a passion for another person. But, at all events, she will not be displeased with you for it; so that, as there is no danger, this cannot even be called daring. But if she attends, if she listens, and allows you to repeat your declaration, be persuaded that if you do not dare all the rest, she will laugh at you. I advise you to begin rather by Madame du Pin, who has still more than beauty enough for such a youngster as you. She has, besides, knowledge of the world, sense, and delicacy. As she is not so extremely young, the choice of her lovers cannot be entirely at her option. I promise you, she will not refuse the tender of your most humble services. Distinguish her, then, by attentions and by tender looks. Take favorable opportunities of whispering that you wish esteem and friendship were the only motives of your regard for her; but that it derives from sentiments of a much more tender nature: that you made not this declaration without pain; but that the concealing your passion was a still greater torment.
If I dared! What stops you from taking a chance? People usually take risks when there's a chance for success; and even when there isn't, they don’t really lose anything by trying. A fashionable person knows how and when to take risks. They start with distant gestures, being attentive, and showing interest. If they're not completely rejected right away, they keep moving forward. After a few steps, success is almost guaranteed; only very foolish people would doubt or not try at that point. Is it the respectable reputation of Madame de la Valiere that makes you hesitate, or are you intimidated by the strong virtue of Madame du Pin? Does the irresistible modesty of the beautiful Madame Case hold you back more than her looks attract you? Shame on you! Understand that even the most virtuous woman, far from being offended by a love confession, feels flattered by it if it’s expressed politely and charmingly. She might not be inclined to reciprocate, especially if she likes someone else. But regardless, she won't be upset with you for it; so since there’s no real risk, this can't really be considered daring. But if she listens and lets you repeat your confession, know that if you don’t follow through, she’ll just laugh at you. I suggest you start with Madame du Pin, who’s more than beautiful enough for someone your age. Plus, she’s experienced, sensible, and graceful. Since she’s not extremely young, her choice of lovers isn’t entirely up to her. I promise you, she won’t turn down your most humble offerings. So show her affection with attention and sweet looks. Take the right moments to whisper that you wish your feelings for her were just out of respect and friendship, but that they’re driven by much deeper sentiments: that confessing your feelings was painful, but hiding your passion is even more tormenting.
I am sensible, that in saying this for the first time, you will look silly, abashed, and even express yourself very ill. So much the better; for, instead of attributing your confusion to the little usage you have of the world, particularly in these sort of subjects, she will think that excess of love is the occasion of it. In such a case, the lover’s best friend is self-love. Do not then be afraid; behave gallantly. Speak well, and you will be heard. If you are not listened to the first time, try a second, a third, and a fourth. If the place is not already taken, depend upon it, it may be conquered.
I know that when you say this for the first time, you'll feel awkward, embarrassed, and might even struggle to express yourself. That’s actually a good thing; instead of thinking your confusion comes from your lack of experience in these matters, she’ll assume it’s because you feel so strongly for her. In this situation, your best ally is self-confidence. So don’t be afraid; act boldly. Speak clearly, and people will listen. If you’re not heard the first time, try again—then once more after that. If the spot isn't already taken, trust me, it can be won.
I am very glad you are going to Orli, and from thence to St. Cloud; go to both, and to Versailles also, often. It is that interior domestic familiarity with people of fashion, that alone can give you ‘l’usage du monde, et les manieres aisees’. It is only with women one loves, or men one respects, that the desire of pleasing exerts itself; and without the desire of pleasing no man living can please. Let that desire be the spring of all your words and actions. That happy talent, the art of pleasing, which so few do, though almost all might possess, is worth all your learning and knowledge put together. The latter can never raise you high without the former; but the former may carry you, as it has carried thousands, a great way without the latter.
I’m really glad you’re going to Orli and then to St. Cloud; make sure to visit both places, and Versailles too, regularly. It’s that close, personal connection with fashionable people that can truly give you the know-how for social life and smooth manners. The desire to impress only comes into play with people you love or respect, and without that desire, no one can truly please anyone. Let that desire be the motivation behind everything you say and do. That valuable skill, the art of pleasing, which so few master even though almost everyone could, is worth more than all your education and knowledge combined. Knowledge alone won’t elevate you much without that skill, but that skill can take you far, as it has for thousands before you, even without extensive knowledge.
I am glad that you dance so well, as to be reckoned by Marcel among his best scholars; go on, and dance better still. Dancing well is pleasing ‘pro tanto’, and makes a part of that necessary whole, which is composed of a thousand parts, many of them of ‘les infiniment petits quoi qu’infiniment necessaires’.
I'm happy that you dance so well that Marcel considers you one of his top students; keep going, and aim to dance even better. Dancing well is enjoyable in itself and is part of that essential whole, which is made up of a thousand elements, many of which are ‘the infinitely small but infinitely necessary’.
I shall never have done upon this subject which is indispensably necessary toward your making any figure or fortune in the world; both which I have set my heart upon, and for both which you now absolutely want no one thing but the art of pleasing; and I must not conceal from you that you have still a good way to go before you arrive at it. You still want a thousand of those little attentions that imply a desire of pleasing: you want a ‘douceur’ of air and expression that engages: you want an elegance and delicacy of expression, necessary to adorn the best sense and most solid matter: in short, you still want a great deal of the ‘brillant’ and the ‘poli’. Get them at any rate: sacrifice hecatombs of books to them: seek for them in company, and renounce your closet till you have got them. I never received the letter you refer to, if ever you wrote it. Adieu, et bon soir, Monseigneur.
I will never stop talking about the topic that is absolutely essential for you to make a name for yourself or achieve success in the world—both of which I truly care about. The only thing you really need right now is the ability to charm people, and I can't hide from you that you still have a long way to go before you master it. You still lack countless little gestures that show a desire to please; you need a charm in your demeanor and expressions that draws people in; you need a refinement and subtlety in your words to enhance your best ideas and solid arguments. In short, you still need a lot of flair and polish. Get them, no matter what it takes: sacrifice piles of books for them; seek them out in social settings, and give up your alone time until you acquire them. I never received the letter you mentioned, if you ever sent it. Goodbye, and good evening, Monseigneur.
LETTER CXLV
GREENWICH, June 6, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Solicitous and anxious as I have ever been to form your heart, your mind, and your manners, and to bring you as near perfection as the imperfection of our natures will allow, I have exhausted, in the course of our correspondence, all that my own mind could suggest, and have borrowed from others whatever I thought could be useful to you; but this has necessarily been interruptedly and by snatches. It is now time, and you are of an age to review and to weigh in your own mind all that you have heard, and all that you have read, upon these subjects; and to form your own character, your conduct, and your manners, for the rest of your life; allowing for such improvements as a further knowledge of the world will naturally give you. In this view I would recommend to you to read, with the greatest attention, such books as treat particularly of those subjects; reflecting seriously upon them, and then comparing the speculation with the practice.
MY DEAR FRIEND: As eager and worried as I have always been to help shape your heart, your mind, and your manners, and to bring you as close to perfection as our imperfect natures allow, I've shared everything my mind could come up with and borrowed from others whatever I thought might help you; but this has necessarily been done in bits and pieces. It’s now time, and you’re at an age, to think about and evaluate everything you’ve heard and read on these topics; and to build your own character, behavior, and manners for the rest of your life, while still making room for growth from gaining more experience in the world. With that in mind, I recommend that you read, with great focus, books that specifically address these subjects; think deeply about them, and then compare the theory with real-life practice.
For example, if you read in the morning some of La Rochefoucault’s maxims; consider them, examine them well, and compare them with the real characters you meet with in the evening. Read La Bruyere in the morning, and see in the evening whether his pictures are like. Study the heart and the mind of man, and begin with your own. Meditation and reflection must lay the foundation of that knowledge: but experience and practice must, and alone can, complete it. Books, it is true, point out the operations of the mind, the sentiments of the heart, the influence of the passions; and so far they are of previous use: but without subsequent practice, experience, and observation, they are as ineffectual, and would even lead you into as many errors in fact, as a map would do, if you were to take your notions of the towns and provinces from their delineations in it. A man would reap very little benefit by his travels, if he made them only in his closet upon a map of the whole world. Next to the two books that I have already mentioned, I do not know a better for you to read, and seriously reflect upon, than ‘Avis d’une Mere d’un Fils, par la Marquise de Lambert’. She was a woman of a superior understanding and knowledge of the world, had always kept the best company, was solicitous that her son should make a figure and a fortune in the world, and knew better than anybody how to point out the means. It is very short, and will take you much less time to read, than you ought to employ in reflecting upon it, after you have read it. Her son was in the army, she wished he might rise there; but she well knew, that, in order to rise, he must first please: she says to him, therefore, With regard to those upon whom you depend, the chief merit is to please. And, in another place, in subaltern employments, the art of pleasing must be your support. Masters are like mistresses: whatever services they may be indebted to you for, they cease to love when you cease to be agreeable. This, I can assure you, is at least as true in courts as in camps, and possibly more so. If to your merit and knowledge you add the art of pleasing, you may very probably come in time to be Secretary of State; but, take my word for it, twice your merit and knowledge, without the art of pleasing, would, at most, raise you to the IMPORTANT POST of Resident at Hamburgh or Ratisbon. I need not tell you now, for I often have, and your own discernment must have told you, of what numberless little ingredients that art of pleasing is compounded, and how the want of the least of them lowers the whole; but the principal ingredient is, undoubtedly, ‘la douceur dans le manieres’: nothing will give you this more than keeping company with your superiors. Madame Lambert tells her son, Let your connections be with people above you; by that means you will acquire a habit of respect and politeness. With one’s equals, one is apt to become negligent, and the mind grows torpid. She advises him, too, to frequent those people, and to see their inside; In order to judge of men, one must be intimately connected; thus you see them without, a veil, and with their mere every-day merit. A happy expression! It was for this reason that I have so often advised you to establish and domesticate yourself, wherever you can, in good houses of people above you, that you may see their EVERY-DAY character, manners, habits, etc. One must see people undressed to judge truly of their shape; when they are dressed to go abroad, their clothes are contrived to conceal, or at least palliate the defects of it: as full-bottomed wigs were contrived for the Duke of Burgundy, to conceal his hump back. Happy those who have no faults to disguise, nor weaknesses to conceal! there are few, if any such; but unhappy those who know little enough of the world to judge by outward appearances. Courts are the best keys to characters; there every passion is busy, every art exerted, every character analyzed; jealousy, ever watchful, not only discovers, but exposes, the mysteries of the trade, so that even bystanders ‘y apprennent a deviner’. There too the great art of pleasing is practiced, taught, and learned with all its graces and delicacies. It is the first thing needful there: It is the absolutely necessary harbinger of merit and talents, let them be ever so great. There is no advancing a step without it. Let misanthropes and would-be philosophers declaim as much as they please against the vices, the simulation, and dissimulation of courts; those invectives are always the result of ignorance, ill-humor, or envy. Let them show me a cottage, where there are not the same vices of which they accuse courts; with this difference only, that in a cottage they appear in their native deformity, and that in courts, manners and good-breeding make them less shocking, and blunt their edge. No, be convinced that the good-breeding, the ‘tournure, la douceur dans les manieres’, which alone are to be acquired at courts, are not the showish trifles only which some people call or think them; they are a solid good; they prevent a great deal of real mischief; they create, adorn, and strengthen friendships; they keep hatred within bounds; they promote good-humor and good-will in families, where the want of good-breeding and gentleness of manners is commonly the original cause of discord. Get then, before it is too late, a habit of these ‘mitiores virtutes’: practice them upon every the least occasion, that they may be easy and familiar to you upon the greatest; for they lose a great degree of their merit if they seem labored, and only called in upon extraordinary occasions. I tell you truly, this is now the only doubtful part of your character with me; and it is for that reason that I dwell upon it so much, and inculcate it so often. I shall soon see whether this doubt of mine is founded; or rather I hope I shall soon see that it is not.
For example, if you read some of La Rochefoucauld’s maxims in the morning, think about them, analyze them thoroughly, and compare them with the real people you encounter in the evening. Read La Bruyère in the morning, and check in the evening whether his portrayals match reality. Study the heart and mind of humanity, starting with your own. Meditation and reflection should form the foundation of that knowledge, but experience and practice are what truly complete it. Books do point out how the mind operates, the feelings of the heart, and the influence of passions; up to that point, they're useful. But without practice, experience, and observation afterward, they’re ineffective and can lead you into as many mistakes as a map would, if you based your understanding of towns and regions solely on its drawings. A person would gain very little from traveling if they were only doing it in their mind with a world map. Next to the two books I already mentioned, I don’t know a better one for you to read and reflect on than ‘Avis d’une Mere d’un Fils’ by the Marquise de Lambert. She was a woman of exceptional intelligence and worldly knowledge, always surrounded by the best company, and she was eager for her son to make a name and a fortune for himself in the world, knowing better than anyone how to guide him. It’s quite short and will take you much less time to read than you should spend reflecting on it afterward. Her son was in the army, and she wanted him to succeed there, but she understood that to advance, he first needed to be likable: she tells him that, regarding those upon whom he depends, the main merit is to be pleasing. In another part, she says that in junior roles, the skill of pleasing must be your foundation. Bosses are like mistresses: no matter how much they owe you, they stop appreciating you once you cease to be enjoyable. I assure you, this is just as true in courts as in military camps, and maybe even more. If you combine likability with your merit and knowledge, you could very likely become Secretary of State over time; but believe me, twice the merit and knowledge without the ability to please would only elevate you to the IMPORTANT POST of Resident in Hamburg or Ratisbon. I need not remind you now, as I've often done, and your own judgment must have shown you, how numerous the tiny elements that make up the art of pleasing are, and how the lack of even one can undermine the whole; but the key ingredient is undoubtedly ‘la douceur dans les manières’: nothing provides you this more than associating with your superiors. Madame Lambert advises her son to connect with people above him; this way, he will develop a habit of respect and politeness. With peers, you tend to become careless, and your mind grows dull. She also suggests spending time with those people and getting to know them well; to truly assess individuals, you must have close connections; this way, you see them without a mask and get to know their everyday qualities. It's a brilliant insight! This is why I have often encouraged you to establish yourself and become comfortable wherever you can, in the good homes of people above you, so you can observe their EVERYDAY character, manners, habits, etc. One must see people in their natural state to accurately judge their shape; when they dress to go out, their clothes are designed to hide, or at least soften, their flaws: as full-bottomed wigs were created for the Duke of Burgundy to hide his humped back. Blessed are those who have no faults to hide or weaknesses to cover! There are few, if any, such people; but unfortunate are those who know so little of the world as to judge solely by appearances. Courts are the best keys to understanding characters; there, every passion is at work, every art is applied, and every character is analyzed; jealousy, always on guard, not only uncovers but reveals the intricacies of the game, so that even bystanders learn to guess. There too, the great art of pleasing is practiced, taught, and learned with all its nuances and subtleties. It's the first necessity there: it's the absolutely essential introduction to merit and talent, no matter how great. You can't make progress without it. Let misanthropes and aspiring philosophers rant as much as they wish about the vices, simulation, and dissimulation in courts; such complaints stem from ignorance, bad mood, or envy. Let them show me a cottage where the same vices they accuse the courts of don’t exist; with just this difference: in a cottage, they appear in their raw ugliness, while in courts, manners and good breeding soften their impact and blunted their sting. No, be assured that the good manners, the ‘tournure, la douceur dans les manières,’ which can only be learned in courts, are not mere frivolities that some people dismiss; they are genuine advantages—they prevent a lot of real harm; they create, enhance, and strengthen friendships; they keep animosity in check; they promote good humor and goodwill in families, where a lack of good manners and kindness often causes discord. So, before it’s too late, cultivate these ‘mitiores virtutes’: practice them on even the smallest occasions, so they become natural and effortless, especially in significant situations; because their value diminishes if they seem forced and are only invoked during extraordinary moments. I am sincerely telling you, this is currently the only uncertain aspect of your character for me; and that’s why I emphasize it so much and repeat it often. I will soon see whether this doubt of mine is justified; or rather, I hope to soon see that it isn’t.
This moment I receive your letter of the 9th N. S. I am sorry to find that you have had, though ever so slight a return of your Carniolan disorder; and I hope your conclusion will prove a true one, and that this will be the last. I will send the mohairs by the first opportunity. As for the pictures, I am already so full, that I am resolved not to buy one more, unless by great accident I should meet with something surprisingly good, and as surprisingly cheap.
I just got your letter from the 9th, and I'm sorry to hear that you've had a little bit of a flare-up with your Carniolan issue. I really hope you're right and this will be the last time. I'll send the mohairs as soon as I can. As for the pictures, I'm already overloaded and have decided not to buy any more unless I happen to come across something astonishingly good and surprisingly cheap.
I should have thought that Lord———-, at his age, and with his parts and address, need not have been reduced to keep an opera w—-e, in such a place as Paris, where so many women of fashion generously serve as volunteers. I am still more sorry that he is in love with her; for that will take him out of good company, and sink him into bad; such as fiddlers, pipers, and ‘id genus omne’; most unedifying and unbecoming company for a man of fashion!
I would have thought that Lord———-, at his age, with his good looks and charm, wouldn't need to be with an opera singer in a place like Paris, where so many fashionable women willingly offer their company. I'm even more disappointed that he's in love with her; that will pull him away from respectable company and drag him down into bad company, like musicians and other similar types; it's really unrefined and inappropriate for a man of his stature!
Lady Chesterfield makes you a thousand compliments. Adieu, my dear child.
Lady Chesterfield sends you a ton of compliments. Goodbye, my dear child.
LETTER CXLVI
GREENWICH, June 10, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your ladies were so slow in giving their specific orders, that the mohairs, of which you at last sent me the patterns, were all sold. However, to prevent further delays (for ladies are apt to be very impatient, when at last they know their own minds), I have taken the quantities desired of three mohairs which come nearest to the description you sent me some time ago, in Madame Monconseil’s own hand; and I will send them to Calais by the first opportunity. In giving ‘la petite Blot’ her piece, you have a fine occasion of saying fine things, if so inclined.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your ladies took so long to give their specific orders that the mohairs, for which you finally sent me the patterns, were all sold out. To avoid further delays (because ladies can get quite impatient once they know what they want), I took the quantities needed of three mohairs that are closest to the description you sent me a while ago, written in Madame Monconseil's own hand; I’ll send them to Calais at the first opportunity. When you give ‘la petite Blot’ her piece, you have a great chance to say some nice things, if you feel like it.
Lady Hervey, who is your puff and panegyrist, writes me word that she saw you lately dance at a ball, and that you dance very genteelly. I am extremely glad to hear it; for (by the maxim, that ‘omne majus continet in se minus’), if you dance genteelly, I presume you walk, sit, and stand genteelly too; things which are much more easy, though much more necessary, than dancing well. I have known many very genteel people, who could not dance well; but I never knew anybody dance very well, who was not genteel in other things. You will probably often have occasion to stand in circles, at the levees of princes and ministers, when it is very necessary ‘de payer de sa personne, et d’etre bien plante’, with your feet not too near nor too distant from each other. More people stand and walk, than sit genteelly. Awkward, ill-bred people, being ashamed, commonly sit bolt upright and stiff; others, too negligent and easy, ‘se vautrent dans leur fauteuil’, which is ungraceful and ill-bred, unless where the familiarity is extreme; but a man of fashion makes himself easy, and appears so by leaning gracefully instead of lolling supinely; and by varying those easy attitudes instead of that stiff immobility of a bashful booby. You cannot conceive, nor can I express, how advantageous a good air, genteel motions, and engaging address are, not only among women, but among men, and even in the course of business; they fascinate the affections, they steal a preference, they play about the heart till they engage it. I know a man, and so do you, who, without a grain of merit, knowledge, or talents, has raised himself millions of degrees above his level, simply by a good air and engaging manners; insomuch that the very Prince who raised him so high, calls him, ‘mon aimable vaut-rien’;—[The Marichal de Richelieu.]—but of this do not open your lips, ‘pour cause’. I give you this secret as the strongest proof imaginable of the efficacy of air, address, ‘tournure, et tout ces Petits riens’.
Lady Hervey, your supporter and fan, recently told me that she saw you dance at a ball and that you dance quite gracefully. I'm really happy to hear that because, according to the saying that “the greater includes the lesser,” if you dance gracefully, I assume you also walk, sit, and stand gracefully, which are much easier yet far more essential skills than dancing well. I've known many stylish people who couldn't dance well, but I've never seen anyone who dances really well who isn't also composed in other ways. You'll probably often find yourself in circles at events with princes and ministers, where it's important to present yourself well and to stand with your feet neither too close nor too far apart. More people stand and walk gracefully than sit gracefully. Awkward, ill-mannered individuals often sit bolt upright and stiff, while others, too relaxed, slouch in their chairs, which looks ungraceful and rude unless the situation calls for it. However, a fashionable person makes himself comfortable and shows it by leaning gracefully instead of lounging lazily, changing those relaxed poses instead of staying rigid like a shy fool. You can't imagine, nor can I fully express, how beneficial a good demeanor, graceful movements, and charming presence are, not only with women but also among men and in business situations; they captivate emotions, win preferences, and touch the heart until they truly engage it. I know, and you do too, a man who has elevated himself far above his station solely by his good presence and charming manners, to the point where even the Prince who promoted him calls him “my lovable good-for-nothing” — [The Marichal de Richelieu]. But don’t speak of this, for good reason. I share this secret with you as the strongest proof of the power of presence, charm, posture, and all those little things.
Your other puff and panegyrist, Mr. Harte, is gone to Windsor in his way to Cornwall, in order to be back soon enough to meet you here: I really believe he is as impatient for that moment as I am, ‘et c’est tout dire’: but, however, notwithstanding my impatience, if by chance you should then be in a situation, that leaving Paris would cost your heart too many pangs, I allow you to put off your journey, and to tell me, as Festus did Paul, AT A MORE CONVENIENT SEASON I WILL SPEAK TO THEE. You see by this that I eventually sacrifice my sentiments to yours, and this in a very uncommon object of paternal complaisance. Provided always, and be it understood (as they say in acts of Parliament), that ‘quae te cumque domat Venus, non erubescendis adurit ignibus’. If your heart will let you come, bring with you only your valet de chambre, Christian, and your own footman; not your valet de place, whom you may dismiss for the time, as also your coach; but you had best keep on your lodgings, the intermediate expense of which will be but inconsiderable, and you will want them to leave your books and baggage in. Bring only the clothes you travel in, one suit of black, for the mourning for the Prince will not be quite out by that time, and one suit of your fine clothes, two or three of your laced shirts, and the rest plain ones; of other things, as bags, feathers, etc., as you think proper. Bring no books, unless two or three for your’ amusement upon the road; for we must apply simply to English, in which you are certainly no ‘puriste’; and I will supply you sufficiently with the proper English authors. I shall probably keep you here till about the middle of October, and certainly not longer; it being absolutely necessary for you to pass the next winter at Paris; so that; should any fine eyes shed tears for your departure, you may dry them by the promise of your return in two months.
Your other fan and admirer, Mr. Harte, has gone to Windsor on his way to Cornwall, so he can be back soon enough to meet you here: I really believe he’s just as eager for that moment as I am, ‘et c’est tout dire’: but, even with my impatience, if by chance you find yourself in a situation where leaving Paris would break your heart too much, I allow you to postpone your trip and tell me, like Festus did to Paul, AT A MORE CONVENIENT SEASON I WILL SPEAK TO THEE. You see here that I’m ultimately putting my feelings aside for yours, which is quite a rare act of parental kindness. But always, let it be understood (as they say in acts of Parliament), that ‘quae te cumque domat Venus, non erubescendis adurit ignibus’. If your heart allows you to come, just bring your valet de chambre, Christian, and your own footman; you can leave your other valet behind for now, as well as your coach; but it’s best to keep your lodging, as the cost will be minimal, and you’ll need a place to leave your books and luggage. Bring only the clothes you’re traveling in, one black suit since the mourning for the Prince won’t be over by then, and one suit of your nice clothes, two or three of your laced shirts, and the rest plain ones; as for other items like bags, feathers, etc., bring whatever you think is necessary. Don’t bring any books, except maybe two or three for entertainment on the road; we need to focus simply on English, and you’re definitely no ‘puriste’ in that regard; I’ll provide you with plenty of the right English authors. I’ll probably keep you here until about the middle of October, but definitely not longer; it’s essential for you to spend the next winter in Paris; so, if any charming eyes shed tears at your departure, they can dry them with the promise of your return in two months.
Have you got a master for geometry? If the weather is very hot, you may leave your riding at the ‘manege’ till you return to Paris, unless you think the exercise does you more good than the heat can do you harm; but I desire you will not leave off Marcel for one moment; your fencing likewise, if you have a mind, may subside for the summer; but you will do well to resume it in the winter and to be adroit at it, but by no means for offense, only for defense in case of necessity. Good night. Yours.
Do you have a geometry tutor? If it’s extremely hot, you can skip your riding lessons at the ‘manege’ until you’re back in Paris, unless you think the exercise is more beneficial than the heat is harmful. However, I really want you to keep up with Marcel without interruption; you can take a break from fencing during the summer if you want, but it would be wise to pick it back up in the winter and get good at it, though not for attacking—only for defense if needed. 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.
P.S. I forgot to tell you one thing when you come here: don’t forget to bring the GRACES with you.
LETTER CXLVII
GREENWICH, June 13, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: ‘Les bienseances’—[This single word implies decorum, good-breeding, and propriety]—are a most necessary part of the knowledge of the world. They consist in the relations of persons, things, time, and place; good sense points them out, good company perfects them ( supposing always an attention and a desire to please), and good policy recommends them.
MY DEAR FRIEND: ‘Les bienseances’—[This word means decorum, good manners, and propriety]—are an essential part of understanding the world. They involve the relationships between people, things, time, and place; common sense identifies them, being in good company enhances them (assuming there’s a willingness and desire to please), and good strategy encourages them.
Were you to converse with a king, you ought to be as easy and unembarrassed as with your own valet de chambre; but yet, every look, word and action, should imply the utmost respect. What would be proper and well-bred with others, much your superiors, would be absurd and ill-bred with one so very much so. You must wait till you are spoken to; you must receive, not give, the subject of conversation; and you must even take care that the given subject of such conversation do not lead you into any impropriety. The art would be to carry it, if possible, to some indirect flattery; such as commending those virtues in some other person, in which that prince either thinks he does, or at least would be thought by others to excel. Almost the same precautions are necessary to be used with ministers, generals, etc., who expect to be treated with very near the same respect as their masters, and commonly deserve it better. There is, however, this difference, that one may begin the conversation with them, if on their side it should happen to drop, provided one does not carry it to any subject upon which it is improper either for them to speak, or be spoken to. In these two cases, certain attitudes and actions would be extremely absurd, because too easy, and consequently disrespectful. As, for instance, if you were to put your arms across in your bosom, twirl your snuff-box, trample with your feet, scratch your head, etc., it would be shockingly ill-bred in that company; and, indeed, not extremely well-bred in any other. The great difficulty in those cases, though a very surmountable one by attention and custom, is to join perfect inward ease with perfect outward respect.
If you were to talk to a king, you should be as casual and relaxed as you are with your own personal attendant; however, every look, word, and action should convey the utmost respect. What is appropriate and polite with others, who are much your superiors, would be ridiculous and rude with someone who is significantly above you. You must wait until you are addressed; you should receive, not initiate, the topic of conversation; and you need to ensure that the subject of conversation doesn’t lead you into any inappropriate territory. The goal would be to steer it, if possible, towards some indirect flattery, like praising the qualities in another person that the prince either believes he possesses or would like others to think he has. Nearly the same precautions should be taken with ministers, generals, etc., who expect to be treated with almost the same respect as their leaders and often deserve it more. There is, however, a difference; you can start the conversation with them if they don't keep it going, as long as you don’t bring up any topics that are inappropriate for them to discuss or for you to ask about. In these situations, certain behaviors and actions would be extremely out of place because they'd feel too relaxed and, thus, disrespectful. For example, crossing your arms, fidgeting with your snuff box, tapping your feet, scratching your head, etc., would be shockingly rude in that setting; in fact, it wouldn't be very polite in any situation. The main challenge in these cases, although it can be overcome with focus and practice, is to combine complete inner ease with total outward respect.
In mixed companies with your equals (for in mixed companies all people are to a certain degree equal), greater ease and liberty are allowed; but they too have their bounds within ‘bienseance’. There is a social respect necessary: you may start your own subject of conversation with modesty, taking great care, however, ‘de ne jamais parler de cordes dans la maison d’un pendu.—[Never to mention a rope in the family of a man who has been hanged]—Your words, gestures, and attitudes, have a greater degree of latitude, though by no means an unbounded one. You may have your hands in your pockets, take snuff, sit, stand, or occasionally walk, as you like; but I believe you would not think it very ‘bienseant’ to whistle, put on your hat, loosen your garters or your buckles, lie down upon a couch, or go to bed, and welter in an easychair. These are negligences and freedoms which one can only take when quite alone; they are injurious to superiors, shocking and offensive to equals, brutal and insulting to inferiors. That easiness of carriage and behavior, which is exceedingly engaging, widely differs from negligence and inattention, and by no means implies that one may do whatever one pleases; it only means that one is not to be stiff, formal, embarrassed, disconcerted, and ashamed, like country bumpkins, and, people who have never been in good company; but it requires great attention to, and a scrupulous observation of ‘les bienseances’: whatever one ought to do, is to be done with ease and unconcern; whatever is improper must not be done at all. In mixed companies also, different ages and sexes are to be differently addressed. You would not talk of your pleasures to men of a certain age, gravity, and dignity; they justly expect from young people a degree of deference and regard. You should be full as easy with them as with people of your own years: but your manner must be different; more respect must be implied; and it is not amiss to insinuate that from them you expect to learn. It flatters and comforts age for not being able to take a part in the joy and titter of youth. To women you should always address yourself with great outward respect and attention, whatever you feel inwardly; their sex is by long prescription entitled to it; and it is among the duties of ‘bienseance’; at the same time that respect is very properly and very agreeably mixed with a degree of ‘enjouement’, if you have it; but then, that badinage must either directly or indirectly tend to their praise, and even not be liable to a malicious construction to their disadvantage. But here, too, great attention must be had to the difference of age, rank, and situation. A ‘marechale’ of fifty must not be played with like a young coquette of fifteen; respect and serious ‘enjouement’, if I may couple those two words, must be used with the former, and mere ‘badinage, zeste meme d’un peu de polissonerie’, is pardonable with the latter.
In mixed groups with your peers (since everyone is somewhat equal in these settings), there's more relaxation and freedom, but there are still limits to what's considered decent. It's important to show social respect: you can introduce your own topics with modesty, but you should be careful never to bring up sensitive subjects—like mentioning a rope in the family of someone who has been hanged. Your words, gestures, and behavior have a certain leeway, but it's not unlimited. You can keep your hands in your pockets, take snuff, sit, stand, or walk around as you wish, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to whistle, wear your hat, loosen your garters or buckles, lie on a couch, or lounge excessively. These are things you can only do when you're completely alone; they are disrespectful to superiors, shocking to equals, and rude to those below you. The relaxed demeanor that is quite charming differs significantly from carelessness and inattentiveness, and it doesn't mean you can act however you want; it means you shouldn't be stiff, formal, awkward, or embarrassed like country folk or those who haven't been around good company. Instead, it requires careful attention and strict adherence to social decorum: everything that should be done must be done with ease and confidence; anything inappropriate must not be done at all. In mixed gatherings, you should address people of different ages and genders differently. You wouldn’t talk about your pleasures with older, dignified men; they rightly expect some respect from younger individuals. You should feel as comfortable with them as with your peers, but your approach must differ; more respect should be shown, and it's okay to suggest you expect to learn from them. It flatters and comforts older individuals who can't share in the youthful joy and laughter. When speaking to women, you should always treat them with great respect and attention, regardless of your internal feelings; their gender has long held this entitlement, and it’s part of the expectations of good manners. At the same time, respect can be charmingly mixed with a playful demeanor if you have that quality; however, any playful teasing should directly or indirectly praise them and not be interpreted negatively. Additionally, you must pay attention to differences in age, status, and circumstances. You shouldn't treat a fifty-year-old woman of high rank the same way you would a fifteen-year-old flirty girl; you should be respectful and use serious playfulness with the former, while mild teasing may be acceptable with the latter.
Another important point of ‘les bienseances’, seldom enough attended to, is, not to run your own present humor and disposition indiscriminately against everybody, but to observe, conform to, and adopt them. For example, if you happened to be in high good humor and a flow of spirits, would you go and sing a ‘pont neuf’,—[a ballad]—or cut a caper, to la Marechale de Coigny, the Pope’s nuncio, or Abbe Sallier, or to any person of natural gravity and melancholy, or who at that time should be in grief? I believe not; as, on the other hand, I suppose, that if you were in low spirits or real grief, you would not choose to bewail your situation with ‘la petite Blot’. If you cannot command your present humor and disposition, single out those to converse with, who happen to be in the humor the nearest to your own.
Another important point about 'common decency,' which is often overlooked, is not to impose your current mood on everyone else without consideration, but to pay attention to, adapt to, and take on their moods. For instance, if you're feeling really happy and energetic, would you go and sing a cheerful song or dance in front of the Marquise de Coigny, the Pope’s ambassador, or Abbé Sallier, or anyone who is naturally serious or feeling down, or who might be grieving at that moment? I doubt it; similarly, if you were feeling low or genuinely sad, you wouldn't choose to lament your situation in front of 'la petite Blot.' If you can't manage your own mood, make sure to talk to those who are in a similar state to yours.
Loud laughter is extremely inconsistent with ‘les bienseances’, as it is only the illiberal and noisy testimony of the joy of the mob at some very silly thing. A gentleman is often seen, but very seldom heard to laugh. Nothing is more contrary to ‘les bienseances’ than horse-play, or ‘jeux de main’ of any kind whatever, and has often very serious, sometimes very fatal consequences. Romping, struggling, throwing things at one another’s head, are the becoming pleasantries of the mob, but degrade a gentleman: ‘giuoco di mano, giuoco di villano’, is a very true saying, among the few true sayings of the Italians.
Loud laughter really doesn’t fit with good manners, as it only shows the rowdy joy of the crowd over something trivial. You often see a gentleman, but you rarely hear him laugh. Nothing goes against good manners more than roughhousing or any kind of hand games, which can lead to serious, sometimes fatal consequences. Horseplay, struggling, and throwing things at each other might be fun for the crowd, but they lower a gentleman's status: “hand games are for the commoner” is a saying that rings true among the few wise sayings of the Italians.
Peremptoriness and decision in young people is ‘contraire aux bienseances’, and they should seldom seem to assert, and always use some softening mitigating expression; such as, ‘s’il m’est permis de le dire, je croirais plutot, si j’ose m’expliquer’, which soften the manner, without giving up or even weakening the thing. People of more age and experience expect, and are entitled to, that degree of deference.
Being overly assertive and decisive in young people goes against proper behavior, and they should rarely come across as assertive; instead, they should use softer, more cautious expressions like, “If I may say so, I would rather believe, if I dare to explain,” which soften their tone without undermining their point. Older and more experienced individuals expect and deserve that level of respect.
There is a ‘bienseance’ also with regard to people of the lowest degree: a gentleman observes it with his footman—even with the beggar in the street. He considers them as objects of compassion, not of insult; he speaks to neither ‘d’un ton brusque’, but corrects the one coolly, and refuses the other with humanity. There is one occasion in the world in which ‘le ton brusque’ is becoming a gentleman. In short, ‘les bienseances’ are another word for MANNERS, and extend to every part of life. They are propriety; the Graces should attend, in order to complete them; the Graces enable us to do, genteelly and pleasingly, what ‘les bienseances’ require to be done at all. The latter are an obligation upon every man; the former are an infinite advantage and ornament to any man. May you unite both!
There is also a sense of decency when it comes to people of the lowest status: a gentleman shows it to his footman—even to the beggar in the street. He sees them as objects of compassion, not as targets for insult; he doesn’t speak to either in a harsh tone, but he addresses one calmly and refuses the other kindly. There is one situation in the world where a harsh tone is appropriate for a gentleman. In short, etiquette is just another word for MANNERS, and it applies to every part of life. They represent propriety; grace should accompany them to fulfill them; grace allows us to carry out, gracefully and pleasantly, what etiquette requires to be done at all. The latter is a duty for every man; the former is an endless advantage and embellishment for any man. May you have both!
Though you dance well, do not think that you dance well enough, and consequently not endeavor to dance still better. And though you should be told that you are genteel, still aim at being genteeler. If Marcel should, do not you be satisfied. Go on, court the Graces all your lifetime; you will find no better friends at court: they will speak in your favor, to the hearts of princes, ministers, and mistresses.
Even though you dance well, don't assume you're good enough and stop trying to improve. And even if someone tells you you're classy, strive to be even classier. If Marcel achieves it, don’t settle for that. Keep pursuing elegance throughout your life; you'll find no better companions in high society. They will advocate for you to the hearts of royals, officials, and influential women.
Now that all tumultuous passions and quick sensations have subsided with me, and that I have no tormenting cares nor boisterous pleasures to agitate me, my greatest joy is to consider the fair prospect you have before you, and to hope and believe you will enjoy it. You are already in the world, at an age when others have hardly heard of it. Your character is hitherto not only unblemished in its mortal part, but even unsullied by any low, dirty, and ungentleman-like vice; and will, I hope, continue so. Your knowledge is sound, extensive and avowed, especially in everything relative to your destination. With such materials to begin with, what then is wanting! Not fortune, as you have found by experience. You have had, and shall have, fortune sufficient to assist your merit and your industry; and if I can help it, you never shall have enough to make you negligent of either. You have, too, ‘mens sana in corpore sano’, the greatest blessing of all. All, therefore, that you want is as much in your power to acquire, as to eat your breakfast when set before you; it is only that knowledge of the world, that elegance of manners, that universal politeness, and those graces which keeping good company, and seeing variety of places and characters, must inevitably, with the least attention on your part, give you. Your foreign destination leads to the greatest things, and your parliamentary situation will facilitate your progress. Consider, then, this pleasing prospect as attentively for yourself as I consider it for you. Labor on your part to realize it, as I will on mine to assist, and enable you to do it. ‘Nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia’.
Now that all my chaotic emotions and intense feelings have calmed down, and I have no stressful worries or overwhelming pleasures to disturb me, my greatest joy is thinking about the bright future ahead of you, and I hope and believe you will enjoy it. You’re already in the world at an age when most people are just starting to hear about it. Your character is not only spotless so far, but it’s also free from any low, dirty, or unrefined vices; I hope it stays that way. Your knowledge is solid, broad, and acknowledged, especially in everything related to your goals. With such a strong foundation, what could you possibly lack? Not good fortune, as you’ve already learned from experience. You have had, and will continue to have, enough fortune to support your talents and hard work; and if I can help it, you will never have so much that you become careless about either. You also have a “sound mind in a sound body,” which is the greatest blessing of all. So, everything you need is as easy for you to gain as having breakfast when it’s served to you; it’s just that understanding the world, having polished manners, showing universal politeness, and those charms that come from associating with good company and experiencing diverse places and people will inevitably come to you with the slightest effort on your part. Your international goals lead to great opportunities, and your position in parliament will help you advance. So, consider this encouraging future as carefully for yourself as I consider it for you. Put in the effort on your end to make it happen, just as I will on mine to support and enable you. “No divine spirit is absent if there is wisdom.”
Adieu, my dear child! I count the days till I have the pleasure of seeing you; I shall soon count the hours, and at last the minutes, with increasing impatience.
Goodbye, my dear child! I'm counting the days until I get the joy of seeing you; soon I'll be counting the hours, and finally the minutes, with growing impatience.
P. S. The mohairs are this day gone from hence for Calais, recommended to the care of Madame Morel, and directed, as desired, to the Comptroller-general. The three pieces come to six hundred and eighty French livres.
P. S. The mohair fabrics have been sent today to Calais, entrusted to the care of Madame Morel, and addressed, as requested, to the Comptroller-general. The three pieces total six hundred and eighty French livres.
LETTER CXLVIII
GREENWICH, June 20, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: So very few people, especially young travelers, see what they see, or hear what they hear, that though I really believe it may be unnecessary with you, yet there can be no harm in reminding you, from time to time, to see what you see, and to hear what you hear; that is, to see and hear as you should do. Frivolous, futile people, who make at least three parts in four of mankind, only desire to see and hear what their frivolous and futile precursors have seen and heard: as St. Peter’s, the Pope, and High Mass, at Rome; Notre Dame, Versailles, the French King, and the French Comedy, in France. A man of parts sees and hears very differently from these gentlemen, and a great deal more. He examines and informs himself thoroughly of everything he sees or hears; and, more particularly, as it is relative to his own profession or destination. Your destination is political; the object, therefore, of your inquiries and observations should be the political interior of things; the forms of government, laws, regulations, customs, trade, manufactures, etc., of the several nations of Europe. This knowledge is much better acquired by conversation with sensible and well-informed people, than by books, the best of which upon these subjects are always imperfect. For example, there are “Present States” of France, as there are of England; but they are always defective, being published by people uninformed, who only copy one another; they are, however, worth looking into because they point out objects for inquiry, which otherwise might possibly never have occurred to one’s mind; but an hour’s conversation with a sensible president or ‘conseiller’ will let you more into the true state of the parliament of Paris, than all the books in France. In the same manner, the ‘Almanack Militaire’ is worth your having; but two or three conversations with officers will inform you much better of their military regulations. People have, commonly, a partiality for their own professions, love to talk of them, and are even flattered by being consulted upon the subject; when, therefore, you are with any of those military gentlemen (and you can hardly be in any company without some), ask them military questions, inquire into their methods of discipline, quartering, and clothing their men; inform yourself of their pay, their perquisites, ‘lours montres, lours etapes’, etc. Do the same as to the marine, and make yourself particularly master of that detail; which has, and always will have, a great relation to the affairs of England; and, in proportion as you get good informations, take minutes of them in writing.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Very few people, especially young travelers, truly see what they see or hear what they hear. Although I believe it may be unnecessary for you, it doesn't hurt to remind you from time to time to pay attention to what you see and hear; that is, to see and hear as you ought to. Superficial and trivial people, who make up at least three-quarters of humanity, only want to see and hear what their frivolous predecessors have experienced: like St. Peter’s, the Pope, and High Mass in Rome; Notre Dame, Versailles, the French King, and the French Comedy in France. A discerning person sees and hears in a completely different way from these gentlemen, and much more. They thoroughly examine and understand everything they see or hear, especially as it relates to their own profession or purpose. Your purpose is political; therefore, your inquiries and observations should focus on the political nature of things: the structures of government, laws, regulations, customs, trade, manufacturing, etc., of various nations in Europe. This knowledge is much better gained through conversation with sensible, well-informed people than from books, which are always imperfect at best on these subjects. For instance, there are “Present States” of France, just like there are for England; but they are usually flawed, published by uninformed individuals who just replicate one another. However, they are worth looking into because they highlight topics for investigation that might not have occurred to you otherwise. An hour of conversation with a knowledgeable president or ‘conseiller’ will give you a clearer understanding of the true state of the parliament of Paris than all the books in France combined. Similarly, the ‘Almanack Militaire’ is useful to have, but a couple of conversations with officers will provide much better insight into their military regulations. People generally have a bias toward their own professions, enjoy discussing them, and feel flattered to be consulted about them. So, when you’re with those military gentlemen (and you can hardly be in any company without some), ask them military questions, delve into their methods of discipline, quartering, and clothing their troops; find out about their pay, perks, ‘lours montres, lours etapes’, etc. Do the same for the navy, and make sure to master that detail, which is and will always be highly relevant to England's affairs. Take notes on the useful information you acquire.
The regulations of trade and commerce in France are excellent, as appears but too plainly for us, by the great increase of both, within these thirty years; for not to mention their extensive commerce in both the East and West Indies, they have got the whole trade of the Levant from us; and now supply all the foreign markets with their sugars, to the ruin almost of our sugar colonies, as Jamaica, Barbadoes, and the Leeward Islands. Get, therefore, what informations you can of these matters also.
The trade and commerce rules in France are outstanding, which is clear to us from the significant growth in both areas over the past thirty years. Not to mention their vast trade in the East and West Indies, they have taken over the entire trade of the Levant from us. Now, they are supplying all the foreign markets with their sugars, nearly leading to the downfall of our sugar colonies like Jamaica, Barbados, and the Leeward Islands. So, get whatever information you can about these issues as well.
Inquire too into their church matters; for which the present disputes between the court and the clergy give you fair and frequent opportunities. Know the particular rights of the Gallican church, in opposition to the pretensions of the See of Rome. I need not recommend ecclesiastical history to you, since I hear that you study ‘Du Pin’ very assiduously.
Ask about their church issues as the current conflicts between the court and the clergy provide you with good and regular chances. Understand the specific rights of the Gallican church against the claims of the See of Rome. There's no need for me to suggest ecclesiastical history to you since I've heard that you're studying 'Du Pin' quite diligently.
You cannot imagine how much this solid and useful knowledge of other countries will distinguish you in your own (where, to say the truth, it is very little known or cultivated), besides the great use it is of in all foreign negotiations; not to mention that it enables a man to shine in all companies. When kings and princes have any knowledge, it is of this sort, and more particularly; and therefore it is the usual topic of their levee conversations, in which it will qualify you to bear a considerable part; it brings you more acquainted with them; and they are pleased to have people talk to them on a subject in which they think to shine.
You can’t imagine how much having solid and useful knowledge about other countries will set you apart in your own (where, to be honest, it's not very well-known or valued), plus it’s really useful in all international dealings. Not to mention, it allows a person to stand out in any social setting. When kings and princes have any knowledge, it’s usually about this kind of thing, especially; and that’s why it’s a common topic in their levee conversations, where it will enable you to contribute significantly. It helps you connect with them more, and they enjoy talking to people about subjects where they feel they can excel.
There is a sort of chit-chat, or SMALL TALK, which is the general run of conversation at courts, and in most mixed companies. It is a sort of middling conversation, neither silly nor edifying; but, however, very necessary for you to become master of. It turns upon the public events of Europe, and then is at its best; very often upon the number, the goodness or badness, the discipline, or the clothing of the troops of different princes; sometimes upon the families, the marriages, the relations of princes, and considerable people; and sometimes ‘sur le bon chere’, the magnificence of public entertainments, balls, masquerades, etc. I would wish you to be able to talk upon all these things better, and with more knowledge than other people; insomuch that upon those occasions, you should be applied to, and that people should say, I DARE SAY MR. STANHOPE CAN TELL US.
There's a kind of casual chat, or SMALL TALK, that’s typical in courts and most mixed gatherings. It’s a kind of average conversation, not too silly or too enlightening; however, it’s essential for you to master it. It usually focuses on current events in Europe, which is when it’s at its best; often it’s about the size, quality, or training of the troops from different rulers; sometimes it’s about the families, marriages, and connections of royals and influential people; and occasionally it’s about the enjoyment of public events, like grand parties, balls, masquerades, etc. I want you to be able to discuss all these topics better and with more insight than others, so that in those moments, people will turn to you and say, I BET MR. STANHOPE CAN TELL US.
Second-rate knowledge and middling talents carry a man further at courts, and in the busy part of the world, than superior knowledge and shining parts. Tacitus very justly accounts for a man’s having always kept in favor and enjoyed the best employments under the tyrannical reigns of three or four of the very worst emperors, by saying that it was not ‘propter aliquam eximiam artem, sed quia par negotiis neque supra erat’. Discretion is the great article; all these things are to be learned, and only learned by keeping a great deal of the best company. Frequent those good houses where you have already a footing, and wriggle yourself somehow or other into every other. Haunt the courts particularly in order to get that ROUTINE.
Mediocre knowledge and average skills can take a person further in royal courts and busy society than exceptional knowledge and standout talents. Tacitus accurately explains why some individuals maintained favor and had the best jobs under the tyrannical rule of some of the worst emperors; he said it was not because of any extraordinary skill, but because they were capable and didn’t overreach. Discretion is the key quality; all these things can be learned, and the best way to learn them is by surrounding yourself with influential people. Regularly visit those reputable places where you already have connections, and find a way to enter others. Spend time in the courts especially to gain that essential routine.
This moment I receive yours of the 18th N. S. You will have had some time ago my final answers concerning the pictures; and, by my last, an account that the mohairs were gone to Madame Morel, at Calais, with the proper directions.
I just got your letter from the 18th. You should have received my final responses about the pictures a while back, and in my last message, I mentioned that the mohairs were sent to Madame Morel in Calais with the correct instructions.
I am sorry that your two sons-in-law [?? D.W.], the Princes B——, are such boobies; however, as they have the honor of being so nearly related to you, I will show them what civilities I can.
I’m sorry that your two sons-in-law, the Princes B——, are such fools; however, since they have the honor of being so closely related to you, I’ll treat them with whatever kindness I can.
I confess you have not time for long absences from Paris, at present, because of your various masters, all which I would have you apply to closely while you are now in that capital; but when you return thither, after the visit you intend me the honor of, I do not propose your having any master at all, except Marcel, once or twice a week. And then the courts will, I hope, be no longer strange countries to you; for I would have you run down frequently to Versailles and St. Cloud, for three or four days at a time. You know the Abbe de la Ville, who will present you to others, so that you will soon be ‘faufile’ with the rest of the court. Court is the soil in which you are to grow and flourish; you ought to be well acquainted with the nature of it; like all other soil, it is in some places deeper, in others lighter, but always capable of great improvement by cultivation and experience.
I admit you don’t have time for long absences from Paris right now because of your various commitments, and I want you to focus on those while you’re in the city. But when you come back after the visit you’re planning to make to me, I don’t intend for you to have any mentor at all, except for Marcel, maybe once or twice a week. By then, I hope the courts won’t feel foreign to you anymore; I want you to make regular trips to Versailles and St. Cloud for three or four days at a time. You know the Abbe de la Ville, who will introduce you to others so you’ll quickly fit in with the rest of the court. The court is where you’re meant to grow and succeed; you should understand its nature well. Like all types of soil, some areas are richer and some are poorer, but they all have great potential for growth through care and experience.
You say that you want some hints for a letter to Lady Chesterfield; more use and knowledge of the world will teach you occasionally to write and talk genteelly, ‘sup des riens’, which I can tell you is a very useful part upon worldly knowledge; for in some companies, it would be imprudent to talk of anything else; and with very many people it is impossible to talk of anything else; they would not understand you. Adieu.
You say you want some tips for a letter to Lady Chesterfield; more experience and understanding of the world will occasionally teach you to write and speak elegantly, ‘sup des riens’, which I can tell you is a very useful part of worldly knowledge. In some circles, it would be unwise to discuss anything else, and with many people, it's impossible to talk about anything else; they wouldn’t get it. Goodbye.
LETTER CXLIX
LONDON, June 24, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: Air, address, manners, and graces are of such infinite advantage to whoever has them, and so peculiarly and essentially necessary for you, that now, as the time of our meeting draws near, I tremble for fear I should not find you possessed of them; and, to tell you the truth, I doubt you are not yet sufficiently convinced for their importance. There is, for instance, your intimate friend, Mr. H——-, who with great merit, deep knowledge, and a thousand good qualities, will never make a figure in the world while he lives. Why? Merely for want of those external and showish accomplishments, which he began the world too late to acquire; and which, with his studious and philosophical turn, I believe he thinks are not worth his attention. He may, very probably, make a figure in the republic of letters, but he had ten thousand times better make a figure as a man of the world and of business in the republic of the United Provinces, which, take my word for it, he never will.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Air, demeanor, etiquette, and charm are incredibly beneficial to anyone who possesses them, and they are especially essential for you. As our meeting approaches, I worry that you might not have them. Honestly, I doubt you're fully aware of their importance yet. Take, for example, your close friend, Mr. H——-. Despite his great merit, extensive knowledge, and countless good qualities, he will never stand out in the world while he lives. Why? Simply because he lacks those external and flashy traits that he started too late to learn, and with his studious and philosophical nature, I believe he thinks they aren’t worth his time. He might very well make a name for himself in the literary world, but he would be far better off making his mark as a person of influence and business in the United Provinces, which, trust me, he never will.
As I open myself, without the least reserve, whenever I think that my doing so can be of any use to you, I will give you a short account of myself. When I first came into the world, which was at the age you are of now, so that, by the way, you have got the start of me in that important article by two or three years at least,—at nineteen I left the University of Cambridge, where I was an absolute pedant; when I talked my best, I quoted Horace; when I aimed at being facetious, I quoted Martial; and when I had a mind to be a fine gentleman, I talked Ovid. I was convinced that none but the ancients had common sense; that the classics contained everything that was either necessary, useful, or ornamental to men; and I was not without thoughts of wearing the ‘toga virilis’ of the Romans, instead of the vulgar and illiberal dress of the moderns. With these excellent notions I went first to The Hague, where, by the help of several letters of recommendation, I was soon introduced into all the best company; and where I very soon discovered that I was totally mistaken in almost every one notion I had entertained. Fortunately, I had a strong desire to please (the mixed result of good-nature and a vanity by no means blamable), and was sensible that I had nothing but the desire. I therefore resolved, if possible, to acquire the means, too. I studied attentively and minutely the dress, the air, the manner, the address, and the turn of conversation of all those whom I found to be the people in fashion, and most generally allowed to please. I imitated them as well as I could; if I heard that one man was reckoned remarkably genteel, I carefully watched his dress, motions and attitudes, and formed my own upon them. When I heard of another, whose conversation was agreeable and engaging, I listened and attended to the turn of it. I addressed myself, though ‘de tres mauvaise grace’, to all the most fashionable fine ladies; confessed, and laughed with them at my own awkwardness and rawness, recommending myself as an object for them to try their skill in forming. By these means, and with a passionate desire of pleasing everybody, I came by degrees to please some; and, I can assure you, that what little figure I have made in the world, has been much more owing to that passionate desire of pleasing universally than to any intrinsic merit or sound knowledge I might ever have been master of. My passion for pleasing was so strong (and I am very glad it was so), that I own to you fairly, I wished to make every woman I saw in love with me, and every man I met with admire me. Without this passion for the object, I should never have been so attentive to the means; and I own I cannot conceive how it is possible for any man of good-nature and good sense to be without this passion. Does not good-nature incline us to please all those we converse with, of whatever rank or station they may be? And does not good sense and common observation, show of what infinite use it is to please? Oh! but one may please by the good qualities of the heart, and the knowledge of the head, without that fashionable air, address and manner, which is mere tinsel. I deny it. A man may be esteemed and respected, but I defy him to please without them. Moreover, at your age, I would not have contented myself with barely pleasing; I wanted to shine and to distinguish myself in the world as a man of fashion and gallantry, as well as business. And that ambition or vanity, call it what you please, was a right one; it hurt nobody, and made me exert whatever talents I had. It is the spring of a thousand right and good things.
As I open up completely, anytime I think it can benefit you, I'll give you a brief overview of myself. When I first entered the world, which was at your current age—and just so you know, you’ve got a head start on me in that crucial respect by at least two or three years—I left the University of Cambridge at nineteen, where I was a total bookworm. When I spoke my best, I quoted Horace; when I aimed for humor, I quoted Martial; and when I wanted to be refined, I quoted Ovid. I was convinced that only the ancients had any common sense; that the classics held everything needed, useful, or beautiful for people; and I even considered wearing the 'toga virilis' of the Romans instead of the common and uninspiring clothing of modern times. With these lofty ideas, I first went to The Hague, where, thanks to several letters of recommendation, I was quickly introduced to the best social circles; and where I soon realized I was completely wrong about almost every idea I had. Luckily, I had a strong desire to please (a mix of good-nature and a perfectly understandable vanity), and I recognized that I had nothing but that desire. So, I decided to gain the means to please as well. I carefully studied the clothing, demeanor, manners, speech, and conversation style of those who were fashionable and universally liked. I tried to imitate them as best as I could; if I heard of someone being particularly stylish, I closely observed his clothing, movements and posture and shaped my own accordingly. When I learned of another person whose conversation was charming and engaging, I paid attention to how he spoke. I approached all the most fashionable ladies, awkwardly for sure, acknowledging and laughing with them about my own clumsiness, presenting myself as someone for them to help refine. Through these efforts, and with a strong desire to please everyone, I gradually started to please some. I can assure you that the little recognition I’ve achieved in this world is much more due to that passionate desire to please everyone than to any inherent talent or substantial knowledge I ever had. My desire to please was so intense (and I’m glad it was) that I honestly admit I wanted every woman I saw to fall in love with me and every man to admire me. Without this passion, I would never have been so attentive to the methods needed; and I honestly can’t understand how any person with good nature and common sense could be without it. Doesn’t a good nature drive us to please everyone we interact with, regardless of their status? And doesn’t common sense and observation show how incredibly beneficial it is to please? Oh! But one can please through the good qualities of the heart and knowledge of the mind, without needing that fashionable charm, poise, and manner that is just superficial. I disagree. A man may be esteemed and respected, but I challenge him to genuinely please without those traits. Besides, at your age, I wouldn't have settled for just pleasing; I wanted to stand out and make a name for myself as a fashionable and charming person, as well as successful in business. That ambition or vanity, call it what you will, was perfectly valid; it harmed no one and pushed me to develop whatever talents I had. It’s the driving force behind countless positive and good things.
I was talking you over the other day with one very much your friend, and who had often been with you, both at Paris and in Italy. Among the innumerable questions which you may be sure I asked him concerning you, I happened to mention your dress (for, to say the truth, it was the only thing of which I thought him a competent judge) upon which he said that you dressed tolerably well at Paris; but that in Italy you dressed so ill, that he used to joke with you upon it, and even to tear your clothes. Now, I must tell you, that at your age it is as ridiculous not to be very well dressed, as at my age it would be if I were to wear a white feather and red-heeled shoes. Dress is one of various ingredients that contribute to the art of pleasing; it pleases the eyes at least, and more especially of women. Address yourself to the senses, if you would please; dazzle the eyes, soothe and flatter the ears of mankind; engage their hearts, and let their reason do its worst against you. ‘Suaviter in modo’ is the great secret. Whenever you find yourself engaged insensibly, in favor of anybody of no superior merit nor distinguished talents, examine, and see what it is that has made those impressions upon you: and you will find it to be that ‘douceur’, that gentleness of manners, that air and address, which I have so often recommended to you; and from thence draw this obvious conclusion, that what pleases you in them, will please others in you; for we are all made of the same clay, though some of the lumps are a little finer, and some a little coarser; but in general, the surest way to judge of others, is to examine and analyze one’s self thoroughly. When we meet I will assist you in that analysis, in which every man wants some assistance against his own self-love. Adieu.
I was chatting with one of your good friends the other day, someone who's spent a lot of time with you in both Paris and Italy. Among the many questions I asked him about you, I brought up your style (to be honest, it was the only area where I felt he could give valuable insight). He mentioned that you dressed fairly well in Paris, but in Italy, your style was so poor that he would joke with you about it, even going as far as tearing your clothes. Now, I have to say, at your age, it’s just as ridiculous to be poorly dressed as it would be for me to wear a white feather and red-heeled shoes at mine. Fashion is one of many things that contribute to the art of pleasing; it at least catches the eye, especially for women. If you want to impress, appeal to the senses; dazzle the eyes and soothe the ears of people. Win their hearts, and let their logic be against you. 'Suaviter in modo' is the key. Whenever you find yourself unintentionally drawn to someone without exceptional merits or talents, reflect on what created that attraction. You'll discover it's that sweetness, gentleness of manners, and charm that I've often advised you about; and from that, draw the clear conclusion that what appeals to you in others will appeal to others in you too. We’re all made of the same stuff, though some are a bit finer and some a bit rougher; generally, the best way to judge others is to thoroughly analyze yourself. When we meet, I'll help you with that self-examination, which everyone needs help with because of their own self-love. Goodbye.
LETTER CL
GREENWICH, June 30, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Pray give the inclosed to our friend the Abbe; it is to congratulate him upon his ‘Canonicat’, which I am really very glad of, and I hope it will fatten him up to Boileau’s ‘Chanoine’; at present he is as meagre as an apostle or a prophet. By the way, has he ever introduced you to la Duchesse d’Aiguillon? If he has not, make him present you; and if he has, frequent her, and make her many compliments from me. She has uncommon, sense and knowledge for a woman, and her house is the resort of one set of ‘les beaux esprits. It is a satisfaction and a sort of credit to be acquainted with those gentlemen; and it puts a young fellow in fashion. ‘A propos des beaux esprits’, you have ‘les entries’ at Lady Sandwich’s; who, old as she was, when I saw her last, had the strongest parts of any woman I ever knew in my life? If you are not acquainted with her, either the Duchesse d’Aiguillon or Lady Hervey can, and I dare say will; introduce you. I can assure you, it is very well worth your while, both upon her own account, and for the sake of the people of wit and learning who frequent her. In such companies there is always something to be learned as well as manners; the conversation turns upon something above trifles; some point of literature, criticism, history, etc., is discussed with ingenuity and good manners; for I must do the French people of learning justice; they are not bears, as most of ours are: they are gentlemen.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Please give the enclosed to our friend the Abbe; it's to congratulate him on his ‘Canonicat,’ which I'm really happy about, and I hope it will help him bulk up to Boileau’s ‘Chanoine’; right now he’s as skinny as an apostle or prophet. By the way, has he ever introduced you to la Duchesse d’Aiguillon? If he hasn’t, make him introduce you; and if he has, spend time with her and send her many compliments from me. She has extraordinary sense and knowledge for a woman, and her home is where a group of ‘les beaux esprits’ gather. It's satisfying and sort of prestigious to know those gentlemen; it makes a young guy fashionable. Speaking of ‘beaux esprits,’ you have ‘les entries’ at Lady Sandwich’s, who, despite her age, had the strongest intellect of any woman I’ve ever known? If you don’t know her, either the Duchesse d’Aiguillon or Lady Hervey can—and I’m sure will—introduce you. I can assure you, it's definitely worth your time, both for her sake and for the sake of the witty and knowledgeable people who visit her. In such circles, there’s always something to learn along with social skills; the discussions revolve around topics that are more significant than trivial matters; they engage in literature, criticism, history, etc., with cleverness and good manners; I must give credit to the educated French people; they're not brutes, like most of ours are: they are gentlemen.
Our Abbe writes me word that you were gone to Compiegne: I am very glad of it; other courts must form you for your own. He tells me too, that you have left off riding at the ‘manege’; I have no objection to that, it takes up a great deal of the morning; and if you have got a genteel and firm seat on horseback, it is enough for you, now that tilts and tournaments are laid aside. I suppose you have hunted at Compiegne. The King’s hunting there, I am told, is a fine sight. The French manner of hunting is gentlemanlike; ours is only for bumpkins and boobies. The poor beasts are here pursued and run down by much greater beasts than themselves, and the true British fox-hunter is most undoubtedly a species appropriated and peculiar to this country, which no other part of the globe produces.
Our Abbe tells me you've gone to Compiegne: I'm really glad to hear it; other courts will shape you for your own. He also mentioned that you've stopped riding at the ‘manege’; I don't mind that, it takes up a lot of your morning. If you've got a stylish and steady seat on a horse, that's enough for you now that jousts and tournaments are off the table. I assume you’ve been hunting at Compiegne. I've heard the King’s hunting there is quite a sight. The French way of hunting has a certain elegance; ours is just for country folks and fools. The poor animals here are chased and brought down by much bigger beasts than themselves, and the true British fox-hunter is definitely a unique type that only exists in this country, not found anywhere else in the world.
I hope you apply the time you have saved from the riding-house to useful more than to learned purposes; for I can assure you they are very different things. I would have you allow but one hour a-day for Greek; and that more to keep what you have than to increase it: by Greek, I mean useful Greek books, such as Demosthenes, Thucydides, etc., and not the poets, with whom you are already enough acquainted. Your Latin will take care of itself. Whatever more time you may have for reading, pray bestow it upon those books which are immediately relative to your destination; such as modern history, in the modern languages, memoirs, anecdotes, letters, negotiations, etc. Collect also, if you can, authentically, the present state of all the courts and countries in Europe, the characters of the kings and princes, their wives, their ministers, and their w——s; their several views, connections, and interests; the state of their FINANCES, their military force, their trade, manufactures, and commerce. That is the useful, the necessary knowledge for you, and indeed for every gentleman. But with all this, remember, that living books are much better than dead ones; and throw away no time (for it is thrown away) with the latter, which you can employ well with the former; for books must now be your only amusement, but, by no means your business. I had much rather that you were passionately in love with some determined coquette of condition (who would lead you a dance, fashion, supple, and polish you), than that you knew all Plato and Aristotle by heart: an hour at Versailles, Compiegne, or St. Cloud, is now worth more to you than three hours in your closet, with the best books that ever were written.
I hope you use the time you've saved from the riding lessons for something practical rather than just academic pursuits; I can assure you those are two very different things. I suggest you spend only one hour a day on Greek, and that should be more about retaining what you already know than learning more. By Greek, I mean useful texts like Demosthenes and Thucydides, not the poets you already know well. Your Latin will take care of itself. Any extra time you have for reading should be spent on books that are directly related to your goals, like modern history in contemporary languages, memoirs, anecdotes, letters, and negotiations. Also, try to gather accurate information about the current state of all the courts and countries in Europe: the personalities of the kings and princes, their wives, their ministers, and their relationships; their various ambitions, connections, and interests; their finances, military strength, trade, industries, and commerce. This is the valuable knowledge you need, and indeed for every gentleman. But remember, living books are much better than dead ones; don’t waste your time on the latter when you could be using it wisely on the former. Books should now be your main form of entertainment, but definitely not your sole focus. I’d much prefer that you were passionately involved with a lively coquette of good standing (who would keep you on your toes, fashionably refined, and polished) than that you memorized all of Plato and Aristotle. An hour at Versailles, Compiegne, or St. Cloud is now worth more to you than three hours in your study with the greatest books ever written.
I hear the dispute between the court and the clergy is made up amicably, both parties have yielded something; the king being afraid of losing more of his soul, and the clergy more of their revenue. Those gentlemen are very skillful in making the most of the vices and the weaknesses of the laity. I hope you have read and informed yourself fully of everything relative to that affair; it is a very important question, in which the priesthood of every country in Europe is highly concerned. If you would be thoroughly convinced that their tithes are of divine institution, and their property the property of God himself, not to be touched by any power on earth, read Fra Paolo De Beneficiis, an excellent and short book; for which, and some other treaties against the court of Rome, he was stilettoed; which made him say afterward, upon seeing an anonymous book written against him by order of the Pope, ‘Conosco bene to stile Romano’.
I hear the dispute between the court and the clergy has been resolved peacefully, with both sides giving up something; the king is worried about losing more of his moral standing, while the clergy is concerned about losing more of their income. Those guys are really good at exploiting the flaws and weaknesses of regular people. I hope you’ve read up on everything related to this issue; it’s a very important matter that affects the clergy in every country in Europe. If you want to be completely convinced that their tithes are divinely ordained, and that their property truly belongs to God and shouldn’t be touched by any earthly power, check out Fra Paolo De Beneficiis, a great and concise book. For that, and several other writings against the court of Rome, he was assassinated, which led him to later remark, upon seeing an anonymous book written against him by the Pope's orders, “I know your Roman style very well.”
The parliament of Paris, and the states of Languedoc, will, I believe, hardly scramble off; having only reason and justice, but no terrors on their side. Those are political and constitutional questions that well deserve your attention and inquiries. I hope you are thoroughly master of them. It is also worth your while to collect and keep all the pieces written upon those subjects.
The Parliament of Paris and the states of Languedoc will probably struggle to get away with it, as they have only reason and justice on their side, without any threats. These are political and constitutional issues that definitely deserve your attention and investigation. I hope you have a firm grasp of them. It’s also a good idea to gather and keep all the writings on these topics.
I hope you have been thanked by your ladies, at least, if not paid in money, for the mohairs, which I sent by a courier to Paris, some time ago, instead of sending them to Madame Morel, at Calais, as I told you I should. Do they like them; and do they like you the better for getting them? ‘Le petite Blot devroit au moins payer de sa personne’. As for Madame de Polignac, I believe you will very willingly hold her excused from personal payment.
I hope the ladies have at least thanked you, if not paid you in cash, for the mohairs I sent to Paris by courier some time ago, instead of sending them to Madame Morel in Calais as I initially said I would. Do they like them? And do they appreciate you more for getting them? "Le petite Blot should at least repay in kind." As for Madame de Polignac, I’m sure you’re more than happy to excuse her from any personal payment.
Before you return to England, pray go again to Orli, for two or three days, and also to St. Cloud, in order to secure a good reception there at your return. Ask the Marquis de Matignon too, if he has any orders for you in England, or any letters or packets for Lord Bolingbroke. Adieu! Go on and prosper.
Before you head back to England, please visit Orli again for a couple of days, and also stop by St. Cloud to ensure a warm welcome when you return. Check with the Marquis de Matignon to see if he has any instructions for you in England or if he has any letters or packages for Lord Bolingbroke. Goodbye! Best of luck!
LETTER CLI
GREENWICH, July 8, O. S. 1751.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter of the 3d July, N. S. I am glad that you are so well with Colonel Yorke, as to be let into secret correspondences. Lord Albemarle’s reserve to you is, I believe, more owing to his secretary than to himself; for you seem to be much in favor with him; and possibly too HE HAS NO VERY SECRET LETTERS to communicate. However, take care not to discover the least dissatisfaction upon this score: make the proper acknowledgments to Colonel Yorke, for what he does show you; but let neither Lord Albemarle nor his people perceive the least coldness on your part, upon account of what they do not show you. It is very often necessary, not to manifest all one feels. Make your court to, and connect yourself as much as possible with Colonel Yorke; he may be of great use to you hereafter; and when you take leave, not only offer to bring over any letters or packets, by way of security; but even ask, as a favor, to be the carrier of a letter from him to his father, the Chancellor. ‘A propos’ of your coming here; I confess that I am weakly impatient for it, and think a few days worth getting; I would, therefore, instead of the 25th of next month, N. S., which was the day that I some time ago appointed for your leaving Paris, have you set out on Friday the 20th of August, N. S.; in consequence of which you will be at Calais some time on the Sunday following, and probably at Dover within four-and-twenty hours afterward. If you land in the morning, you may, in a postchaise, get to Sittingborne that day; if you come on shore in the evening, you can only get to Canterbury, where you will be better lodged than at Dover. I will not have you travel in the night, nor fatigue and overheat yourself by running on fourscore miles the moment you land. You will come straight to Blackheath, where I shall be ready to meet you, and which is directly upon the Dover road to London; and we will go to town together, after you have rested yourself a day or two here. All the other directions, which I gave you in my former letter, hold still the same. But, notwithstanding this regulation, should you have any particular reasons for leaving Paris two or three days sooner or later, than the above mentioned, ‘vous etes maitre’. Make all your arrangements at Paris for about a six weeks stay in England at farthest.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter dated July 3rd. I'm glad to hear that you're getting along well with Colonel Yorke and have been let in on some confidential discussions. I believe Lord Albemarle’s reserved nature towards you is more because of his secretary than himself; you seem to be quite favored by him, and perhaps he simply doesn’t have any really confidential letters to share. However, be careful not to show any sign of dissatisfaction about this: thank Colonel Yorke for what he does share with you, but don’t let Lord Albemarle or his team sense even the slightest coldness from you regarding what they don’t show you. It’s often necessary to hide some of your feelings. Build a good relationship with Colonel Yorke and connect with him as much as you can; he may be very helpful to you in the future. When you leave, not only offer to bring over any letters or packages for security, but also ask as a favor to carry a letter from him to his father, the Chancellor. Regarding your upcoming visit, I admit I’m somewhat impatient for it and believe a few days would be worth it; therefore, instead of the 25th of next month, which I initially set for your departure from Paris, I would like you to leave on Friday, August 20th. This way, you'll arrive in Calais sometime the following Sunday and probably at Dover within twenty-four hours afterward. If you land in the morning, you can take a postchaise and reach Sittingbourne that same day; if you arrive in the evening, you can only make it to Canterbury, where you'll find better accommodations than in Dover. I don't want you traveling at night or tiring yourself out by covering eighty miles as soon as you arrive. You will come straight to Blackheath, where I'll be ready to meet you, which is right on the way from Dover to London, and we can head to the city together after you've rested for a day or two here. All the other instructions I gave you in my previous letter remain unchanged. But, should you have any specific reasons for leaving Paris a couple of days earlier or later than mentioned, 'vous etes maitre.' Make all your arrangements in Paris for a stay of about six weeks in England at most.
I had a letter the other day from Lord Huntingdon, of which one-half at least was your panegyric; it was extremely welcome to me from so good a hand. Cultivate that friendship; it will do you honor and give you strength. Connections, in our mixed parliamentary government, are of great use.
I received a letter the other day from Lord Huntingdon, and at least half of it was your praise; it was very welcome to me coming from such a respected source. Nurture that friendship; it will bring you honor and provide you with strength. Connections, in our diverse parliamentary government, are very valuable.
I send you here inclosed the particular price of each of the mohairs; but I do not suppose that you will receive a shilling for anyone of them. However, if any of your ladies should take an odd fancy to pay, the shortest way, in the course of business, is for you to keep the money, and to take so much less from Sir John Lambert in your next draught upon him.
I’m enclosing the specific price for each of the mohairs; however, I doubt you’ll get even a shilling for any of them. Still, if any of your ladies happen to want to pay, the easiest way to handle it is for you to keep the money and take that much less from Sir John Lambert in your next request for funds from him.
I am very sorry to hear that Lady Hervey is ill. Paris does not seem to agree with her; she used to have great health here. ‘A propos’ of her; remember, when you are with me, not to mention her but when you and I are quite alone, for reasons which I will tell you when we meet: but this is only between you and me; and I desire that you will not so much as hint it to her, or to anybody else.
I’m really sorry to hear that Lady Hervey is unwell. Paris doesn’t seem to suit her; she used to be very healthy here. By the way, when you’re with me, please don’t mention her unless it’s just the two of us, for reasons I’ll explain when we meet. But this is just between us, and I ask that you don’t even hint at it to her or anyone else.
If old Kurzay goes to the valley of Jehoshaphat, I cannot help it; it will be an ease to our friend Madame Montconseil, who I believe maintains her, and a little will not satisfy her in any way.
If old Kurzay goes to the valley of Jehoshaphat, there's nothing I can do about it; it will be a relief for our friend Madame Montconseil, who I think supports her, and a little won’t be enough to satisfy her at all.
Remember to bring your mother some little presents; they need not be of value, but only marks of your affection and duty for one who has always been tenderly fond of you. You may bring Lady Chesterfield a little Martin snuffbox of about five Louis; and you need bring over no other presents; you and I not wanting ‘les petits presens pour entretenir l’amitee’.
Remember to bring your mom some small gifts; they don't have to be valuable, just tokens of your love and respect for someone who has always cared for you. You could get Lady Chesterfield a small Martin snuffbox worth about five Louis; and you really don’t need to bring any other gifts; you and I don’t need “the little presents to maintain friendship”.
Since I wrote what goes before, I have talked you over minutely with Lord Albemarle, who told me, that he could very sincerely commend you upon every article but one; but upon that one you were often joked, both by him and others. I desired to know what that was; he laughed and told me it was the article of dress, in which you were exceedingly negligent. Though he laughed, I can assure you that it is no laughing matter for you; and you will possibly be surprised when I assert (but, upon my word, it is literally true), that to be very well dressed is of much more importance to you, than all the Greek you know will, be of these thirty years. Remember that the world is now your only business; and that you must adopt its customs and manners, be they silly or be they not. To neglect your dress, is an affront to all the women you keep company with; as it implies that you do not think them worth that attention which everybody else doth; they mind dress, and you will never please them if you neglect yours; and if you do not please the women, you will not please half the men you otherwise might. It is the women who put a young fellow in fashion even with the men. A young fellow ought to have a certain fund of coquetry; which should make him try all the means of pleasing, as much as any coquette in Europe can do. Old as I am, and little thinking of women, God knows, I am very far from being negligent of my dress; and why? From conformity to custom, and out of decency to men, who expect that degree of complaisance. I do not, indeed, wear feathers and red heels, which would ill suit my age; but I take care to have my clothes well made, my wig well combed and powdered, my linen and person extremely clean. I even allow my footman forty shillings a year extraordinary, that they may be spruce and neat. Your figure especially, which from its stature cannot be very majestic and interesting, should be the more attended to in point of dress as it cannot be ‘imposante’, it should be ‘gentile, aimable, bien mise’. It will not admit of negligence and carelessness.
Since I wrote the previous section, I've had a detailed conversation with Lord Albemarle. He told me that he could genuinely commend you on almost every point except one, and that one has been a topic of jokes from both him and others. I wanted to know what that was; he laughed and said it was about your clothes, which you seem to neglect a lot. Even though he laughed about it, I assure you it's serious business for you. You might be surprised when I say (and I mean it) that being well-dressed is way more important for you than all the Greek you know will be in the next thirty years. Remember, your main focus now is on the world, and you have to adopt its customs and manners, whether they seem silly or not. Ignoring your attire is disrespectful to all the women you associate with, as it suggests you don’t think they deserve the effort that everyone else puts in. They care about clothing, and if you neglect your own, you won't win them over; and if you don't impress the women, you’ll lose the approval of half the men you could otherwise charm. It's the women who help a young man become fashionable in the eyes of men. A young man should have a certain flair that drives him to try all possible ways to please, just like any coquette in Europe would. Even though I'm old and not focused on women, trust me, I still care about how I dress. Why? Because it’s about fitting in with societal norms and showing decency to men who expect that level of consideration. I may not wear feathers and red heels, which wouldn’t suit my age, but I ensure my clothes are well-tailored, my wig is neatly combed and powdered, and that both my clothes and myself are impeccably clean. I even give my footman an extra forty shillings a year so he can look sharp and tidy. Your appearance, especially since your height might not be very statuesque, should be given more attention in terms of dressing up; since it can't be imposing, it should at least be elegant, charming, and well put together. There’s no room for neglect or carelessness here.
I believe Mr. Hayes thinks that you have slighted him a little of late, since you have got into so much other company. I do not by any means blame you for not frequenting his house so much as you did at first, before you had got into so many other houses more entertaining and more instructing than his; on the contrary, you do very well; but, however, as he was extremely civil to you, take care to be so to him, and make up in manner what you omit in matter. See him, dine with him before you come away, and ask his commands for England.
I think Mr. Hayes feels a bit neglected lately since you've been hanging out with a lot of other people. I don’t blame you for not visiting his house as often as you used to, especially now that you have access to other places that are more entertaining and informative than his; in fact, you're doing the right thing. However, since he has been very courteous to you, make sure to return the courtesy and compensate with your attitude for what you're lacking in frequency. Make sure to see him, have dinner with him before you leave, and ask if he has any requests for England.
Your triangular seal is done, and I have given it to an English gentleman, who sets out in a week for Paris, and who will deliver it to Sir John Lambert for you.
Your triangular seal is ready, and I've given it to an English gentleman who is leaving for Paris in a week and will deliver it to Sir John Lambert for you.
I cannot conclude this letter without returning again to the showish, the ornamental, the shining parts of your character; which, if you neglect, upon my word you will render the solid ones absolutely useless; nay, such is the present turn of the world, that some valuable qualities are even ridiculous, if not accompanied by the genteeler accomplishments. Plainness, simplicity, and quakerism, either in dress or manners, will by no means do; they must both be laced and embroidered; speaking, or writing sense, without elegance and turn, will be very little persuasive; and the best figure in the world, without air and address, will be very ineffectual. Some pedants may have told you that sound sense and learning stand in, need of no ornaments; and, to support that assertion, elegantly quote the vulgar proverb, that GOOD WINE NEEDS NO BUSH; but surely the little experience you have already had of the world must have convinced you that the contrary of that assertion is true. All those accomplishments are now in your power; think of them, and of them only. I hope you frequent La Foire St. Laurent, which I see is now open; you will improve more by going there with your mistress, than by staying at home and reading Euclid with your geometry master. Adieu. ‘Divertissez-vous, il n’y a rien de tel’.
I can't finish this letter without bringing up again the flashy, decorative, and impressive parts of your character; if you overlook them, I swear you'll make the more solid traits completely ineffective. In fact, given how things are today, some valuable qualities might even seem ridiculous if they're not paired with more polished skills. Plainness and simplicity, whether in your clothing or behavior, won't cut it; everything needs to be stylish and refined. Speaking or writing with clear meaning, without elegance and finesse, won’t be very convincing; and the best appearance in the world, without charm and poise, will have little impact. Some know-it-alls might tell you that sound judgment and knowledge don't need embellishment, using the saying that GOOD WINE NEEDS NO BUSH as proof; but surely your limited experience in the real world has shown you that the opposite is true. You have all those skills within your reach; focus solely on them. I hope you’re visiting La Foire St. Laurent, which I see is now open; you'll gain much more by going there with your companion than by staying home and studying Euclid with your math teacher. Goodbye. ‘Have fun, nothing like it.’
LETTER CLII
GREENWICH, July 15, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: As this is the last, or last letter but one, that I think I shall write before I have the pleasure of seeing you here, it may not be amiss to prepare you a little for our interview, and for the time we shall pass together. Before kings and princes meet, ministers on each side adjust the important points of precedence, arm chairs, right hand and left, etc., so that they know previously what they are to expect, what they have to trust to; and it is right they should; for they commonly envy or hate, but most certainly distrust each other. We shall meet upon very different terms; we want no such preliminaries: you know my tenderness, I know your affection. My only object, therefore, is to make your short stay with me as useful as I can to you; and yours, I hope, is to co-operate with me. Whether, by making it wholesome, I shall make it pleasant to you, I am not sure. Emetics and cathartics I shall not administer, because I am sure you do not want them; but for alteratives you must expect a great many; and I can tell you that I have a number of NOSTRUMS, which I shall communicate to nobody but yourself. To speak without a metaphor, I shall endeavor to assist your youth with all the experience that I have purchased, at the price of seven and fifty years. In order to this, frequent reproofs, corrections, and admonitions will be necessary; but then, I promise you, that they shall be in a gentle, friendly, and secret manner; they shall not put you out of countenance in company, nor out of humor when we are alone. I do not expect that, at nineteen, you should have that knowledge of the world, those manners, that dexterity, which few people have at nine-and-twenty. But I will endeavor to give them you; and I am sure you will endeavor to learn them, as far as your youth, my experience, and the time we shall pass together, will allow. You may have many inaccuracies (and to be sure you have, for who has not at your age?) which few people will tell you of, and some nobody can tell you of but myself. You may possibly have others, too, which eyes less interested, and less vigilant than mine, do not discover; all those you shall hear of from one whose tenderness for you will excite his curiosity and sharpen his penetration. The smallest inattention or error in manners, the minutest inelegance of diction, the least awkwardness in your dress and carriage, will not escape my observation, nor pass without amicable correction. Two, the most intimate friends in the world, can freely tell each other their faults, and even their crimes, but cannot possibly tell each other of certain little weaknesses; awkwardnesses, and blindnesses of self-love; to authorize that unreserved freedom, the relation between us is absolutely necessary. For example, I had a very worthy friend, with whom I was intimate enough to tell him his faults; he had but few; I told him of them; he took it kindly of me, and corrected them. But then, he had some weaknesses that I could never tell him of directly, and which he was so little sensible of himself, that hints of them were lost upon him. He had a scrag neck, of about a yard long; notwithstanding which, bags being in fashion, truly he would wear one to his wig, and did so; but never behind him, for, upon every motion of his head, his bag came forward over one shoulder or the other. He took it into his head too, that he must occasionally dance minuets, because other people did; and he did so, not only extremely ill, but so awkward, so disjointed, slim, so meagre, was his figure, that had he danced as well as ever Marcel did, it would have been ridiculous in him to have danced at all. I hinted these things to him as plainly as friendship would allow, and to no purpose; but to have told him the whole, so as to cure him, I must have been his father, which, thank God, I am not. As fathers commonly go, it is seldom a misfortune to be fatherless; and, considering the general run of sons, as seldom a misfortune to be childless. You and I form, I believe, an exception to that rule; for, I am persuaded that we would neither of us change our relation, were it in our power. You will, I both hope and believe, be not only the comfort, but the pride of my age; and, I am sure, I will be the support, the friend, the guide of your youth. Trust me without reserve; I will advise you without private interest, or secret envy. Mr. Harte will do so too; but still there may be some little things proper for you to know, and necessary for you to correct, which even his friendship would not let him tell you of so freely as I should; and some, of which he may not possibly be so good a judge of as I am, not having lived so much in the great world.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Since this is the last, or second to last, letter I’ll write before I have the pleasure of seeing you here, I thought it might be a good idea to prepare you a bit for our meeting and the time we'll spend together. Before kings and princes meet, their advisors sort out the important details like seating arrangements, so they know what to expect and what to rely on; and it makes sense they would, because they often envy, dislike, or at the very least distrust one another. We’re meeting on a very different level; we don’t need such formalities: you know my affection, and I know yours. My only goal is to make your short stay with me as beneficial as I can for you, and I hope yours is to work together with me. I’m not sure if making it beneficial will also make it enjoyable for you. I won’t force you to take unpleasant medicine because I know you don’t want that; but be ready for a lot of changes, and I have plenty of remedies that I will share with no one but you. To speak plainly, I will try to help your youth with all the experience I’ve gained over my fifty-seven years. For this, I’ll need to give you regular feedback, corrections, and advice; but I promise it will be in a gentle, friendly, and private way. They won’t embarrass you in public, nor will they upset you when we’re alone. I don’t expect that at nineteen you should have the knowledge of the world, the manners, and the skills that few people have at twenty-nine. But I will try to teach you, and I’m sure you’ll try to learn as much as your youth, my experience, and the time we have together will allow. You may have many errors (and of course you do, who doesn’t at your age?), some of which few people will point out to you, and some that only I can notice. You might also have other issues that less concerned and observant eyes won’t catch; you’ll hear about all of those from someone whose care for you will drive his curiosity and sharpen his observations. The tiniest mistake or error in manners, the smallest awkwardness in your language, or the least clumsiness in your appearance won’t escape my notice or go without friendly correction. Two very close friends can tell each other their flaws and even their mistakes, but they can’t easily address certain small weaknesses, awkwardnesses, and blind spots in self-regard. For that kind of honest feedback, our relationship is absolutely necessary. For example, I had a very good friend, with whom I was close enough to mention his faults; he had only a few, and he appreciated my honesty and made changes. However, he had some weaknesses I could never directly point out to him, and he was so oblivious to them that even hints went unnoticed. He had a long neck, about a yard long; yet, since bags were in style, he would wear one with his wig, but never in the back, as it always swung forward with every move he made. He also decided he had to dance minuets occasionally, just like everyone else; and not only did he do it very badly, but his awkward and thin figure made it look even worse. Even if he had danced as well as Marcel, it still would have looked ridiculous. I hinted at these things to him as directly as friendship would allow, but it was no use; to truly fix the issue, I would have needed to be his father, which, thank goodness, I am not. As most fathers go, being fatherless is usually not a tragedy; and considering how most sons behave, being childless is often not a misfortune either. You and I, I believe, are exceptions to that rule; because I’m convinced neither of us would change our relationship if we had the chance. I both hope and believe you will be not just the comfort but also the pride of my later years; and I’m sure I will be your support, your friend, and your guide in youth. Trust me completely; I will advise you without personal motives or hidden envy. Mr. Harte will do the same, but there may be some small things you should know, and necessary corrections you need to make, that even his friendship wouldn’t allow him to share with you as freely as I could; and for some matters, he may not have the same perspective as I do, not having spent as much time in the larger world.
One principal topic of our conversation will be, not only the purity but the elegance of the English language; in both which you are very deficient. Another will be the constitution of this country, of which, I believe, you know less than of most other countries in Europe. Manners, attentions, and address, will also be the frequent subjects of our lectures; and whatever I know of that important and necessary art, the art of pleasing. I will unreservedly communicate to you. Dress too (which, as things are, I can logically prove, requires some attention) will not always escape our notice. Thus, my lectures will be more various, and in some respects more useful than Professor Mascow’s, and therefore, I can tell you, that I expect to be paid for them; but, as possibly you would not care to part with your ready money, and as I do not think that it would be quite handsome in me to accept it, I will compound for the payment, and take it in attention and practice.
One main topic of our conversation will be not just the purity but also the elegance of the English language, both of which you are lacking. Another topic will be the constitution of this country, which I believe you know less about than most other countries in Europe. Manners, attentiveness, and social skills will also frequently come up in our discussions, and I will gladly share everything I know about that important and necessary skill—the art of pleasing. We won't overlook dress either (which, as things stand, I can logically argue requires some attention). So, my lessons will cover a wider range and, in some ways, be more practical than Professor Mascow's. Therefore, I expect to be compensated for them; however, since you might not want to part with your money, and I don't think it would be quite proper for me to accept it, I’ll settle for getting paid in your attention and practice.
Pray remember to part with all your friends, acquaintances, and mistresses, if you have any at Paris, in such a manner as may make them not only willing but impatient to see you there again. Assure them of your desire of returning to them; and do it in a manner that they may think you in earnest, that is ‘avec onction et une espece d’attendrissement’. All people say, pretty near the same things upon those occasions; it is the manner only that makes the difference; and that difference is great. Avoid, however, as much as you can, charging yourself with commissions, in your return from hence to Paris; I know, by experience, that they are exceedingly troublesome, commonly expensive, and very seldom satisfactory at last, to the persons who gave them; some you cannot refuse, to people to whom you are obliged, and would oblige in your turn; but as to common fiddle-faddle commissions, you may excuse yourself from them with truth, by saying that you are to return to Paris through Flanders, and see all those great towns; which I intend you shall do, and stay a week or ten days at Brussels. Adieu! A good journey to you, if this is my last; if not, I can repeat again what I shall wish constantly.
Please remember to say goodbye to all your friends, acquaintances, and romantic interests, if you have any in Paris, in a way that makes them not just eager but excited to see you again. Let them know you genuinely want to return to them, and do it in a way that makes them believe you’re sincere, that is “with warmth and a kind of sentiment.” Everyone says pretty much the same things in these situations; it’s really the way you say it that makes the difference, and that difference is significant. However, try to avoid taking on too many favors to bring back from here to Paris; I know from experience that they can be extremely annoying, often costly, and rarely satisfactory for the people who asked for them. Some you can’t decline, especially to those you owe favors to and would like to help in return; but for the usual trivial favors, you can genuinely excuse yourself by saying you're traveling back to Paris through Flanders and plan to see all those great cities. I intend for you to do that and to stay in Brussels for a week or ten days. Farewell! Have a good trip if this is our last goodbye; if not, I can say again what I will always wish for you.
LETTER CLIII
LONDON, December 19, O. S. 1751—[Note the date, which indicates that the sojourn with the author has ended.]
LONDON, December 19, O. S. 1751—[Note the date, which indicates that the time spent with the author has come to an end.]
MY DEAR FRIEND: You are now entered upon a scene of business, where I hope you will one day make a figure. Use does a great deal, but care and attention must be joined to it. The first thing necessary in writing letters of business, is extreme clearness and perspicuity; every paragraph should be so clear and unambiguous, that the dullest fellow in the world may not be able to mistake it, nor obliged to read it twice in order to understand it. This necessary clearness implies a correctness, without excluding an elegance of style. Tropes, figures, antitheses, epigrams, etc., would be as misplaced and as impertinent in letters of business, as they are sometimes (if judiciously used) proper and pleasing in familiar letters, upon common and trite subjects. In business, an elegant simplicity, the result of care, not of labor, is required. Business must be well, not affectedly dressed; but by no means negligently. Let your first attention be to clearness, and read every paragraph after you have written it, in the critical view of discovering whether it is possible that any one man can mistake the true sense of it: and correct it accordingly.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You are now entering a world of business, where I hope you will one day excel. Practice is important, but it must be paired with care and attention. The first requirement in writing business letters is extreme clarity. Each paragraph should be so straightforward and clear that even the dullest person can’t misunderstand it or have to read it twice to grasp its meaning. This necessary clarity requires accuracy, but that doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice style. Literary devices like metaphors, figures of speech, and puns are just as out of place in business letters as they can sometimes add charm in casual letters about common topics. In business, you need an elegant simplicity that comes from care, not from excessive effort. Business communication should be well-presented, but not overdone; definitely not careless. Focus first on clarity, and after writing each paragraph, read it critically to ensure that there’s no chance anyone could misconstrue its true meaning, and make corrections as needed.
Our pronouns and relatives often create obscurity or ambiguity; be therefore exceedingly attentive to them, and take care to mark out with precision their particular relations. For example, Mr. Johnson acquainted me that he had seen Mr. Smith, who had promised him to speak to Mr. Clarke, to return him (Mr. Johnson) those papers, which he (Mr. Smith) had left some time ago with him (Mr. Clarke): it is better to repeat a name, though unnecessarily, ten times, than to have the person mistaken once. WHO, you know, is singly relative to persons, and cannot be applied to things; WHICH and THAT are chiefly relative to things, but not absolutely exclusive of persons; for one may say, the man THAT robbed or killed such-a-one; but it is better to say, the man WHO robbed or killed. One never says, the man or the woman WHICH. WHICH and THAT, though chiefly relative to things, cannot be always used indifferently as to things, and the ‘euoovca’ must sometimes determine their place. For instance, the letter WHICH I received from you, WHICH you referred to in your last, WHICH came by Lord Albemarle’s messenger WHICH I showed to such-a-one; I would change it thus—The letter THAT I received from you; WHICH you referred to in your last, THAT came by Lord Albemarle’s messenger, and WHICH I showed to such-a-one.
Our pronouns and relatives often create confusion; so be very careful with them, and make sure to clearly define their specific connections. For example, Mr. Johnson told me he had seen Mr. Smith, who promised to talk to Mr. Clarke about returning those papers that Mr. Smith left with him a while ago: it’s better to repeat a name, even if it seems unnecessary, ten times than to mistakenly identify someone just once. WHO, as you know, only refers to people and can't be used for things; WHICH and THAT usually refer to things, but they aren't completely exclusive to people; for instance, you can say, the man THAT robbed or killed someone, but it’s better to say, the man WHO robbed or killed. You never say, the man or woman WHICH. Although WHICH and THAT mostly relate to things, they can’t always be used interchangeably when talking about things, and context must sometimes dictate their use. For example, the letter WHICH I received from you, WHICH you mentioned in your last, WHICH came by Lord Albemarle’s messenger, WHICH I showed to someone; I would change it to—The letter THAT I received from you, WHICH you mentioned in your last, THAT came by Lord Albemarle’s messenger, and WHICH I showed to someone.
Business does not exclude (as possibly you wish it did) the usual terms of politeness and good-breeding; but, on the contrary, strictly requires them: such as, I HAVE THE HONOR TO ACQUAINT YOUR LORDSHIP; PERMIT ME TO ASSURE YOU; IF I MAY BE ALLOWED TO GIVE MY OPINION, etc. For the minister abroad, who writes to the minister at home, writes to his superior; possibly to his patron, or at least to one who he desires should be so.
Business doesn't ignore the usual courtesies and good manners, as you might hope; rather, it strictly requires them: such as, I HAVE THE HONOR TO INFORM YOUR LORDSHIP; PLEASE ALLOW ME TO ASSURE YOU; IF I MAY SHARE MY OPINION, etc. The minister abroad, who writes to the minister at home, is writing to his superior; possibly to his patron, or at least to someone he wishes to regard as such.
Letters of business will not only admit of, but be the better for CERTAIN GRACES—but then, they must be scattered with a sparing and skillful hand; they must fit their place exactly. They must decently adorn without encumbering, and modestly shine without glaring. But as this is the utmost degree of perfection in letters of business, I would not advise you to attempt those embellishments, till you have first laid your foundation well.
Business letters not only allow for certain enhancements, but they actually benefit from them—provided they are used sparingly and skillfully. They should fit perfectly in their context, adding a decent touch without cluttering, and shine modestly without being overwhelming. However, since this is the highest standard for business letters, I wouldn’t recommend trying these embellishments until you’ve laid a solid foundation first.
Cardinal d’Ossat’s letters are the true letters of business; those of Monsieur d’Avaux are excellent; Sir William Temple’s are very pleasing, but, I fear, too affected. Carefully avoid all Greek or Latin quotations; and bring no precedents from the VIRTUOUS SPARTANS, THE POLITE ATHENIANS, AND THE BRAVE ROMANS. Leave all that to futile pedants. No flourishes, no declamation. But (I repeat it again) there is an elegant simplicity and dignity of style absolutely necessary for good letters of business; attend to that carefully. Let your periods be harmonious, without seeming to be labored; and let them not be too long, for that always occasions a degree of obscurity. I should not mention correct orthography, but that you very often fail in that particular, which will bring ridicule upon you; for no man is allowed to spell ill. I wish too that your handwriting were much better; and I cannot conceive why it is not, since every man may certainly write whatever hand he pleases. Neatness in folding up, sealing, and directing your packets, is by no means to be neglected; though, I dare say, you think it is. But there is something in the exterior, even of a packet, that may please or displease; and consequently worth some attention.
Cardinal d’Ossat’s letters are the true examples of business writing; Monsieur d’Avaux’s are excellent; Sir William Temple’s are quite enjoyable, but I worry they might come off as too artificial. Avoid using any Greek or Latin quotes, and don't bring up examples from the VIRTUOUS SPARTANS, THE POLITE ATHENIANS, OR THE BRAVE ROMANS. Leave that to pointless pedants. No elaborate rhetoric, no grandstanding. But (I’ll say it again) there is a necessary elegance and dignity in style for effective business letters; pay close attention to that. Your sentences should flow harmoniously without being forced, and avoid making them too long, as that leads to confusion. I wouldn't mention spelling, but you often make mistakes, which can lead to mockery; no one is allowed to spell poorly. I also wish your handwriting were much better; I can’t understand why it isn’t, since everyone can write in whatever style they prefer. Take care with the neatness of how you fold, seal, and address your packages; I’m sure you think it’s unimportant. But there’s something to the appearance of a package that can be either appealing or off-putting, and it deserves some consideration.
You say that your time is very well employed; and so it is, though as yet only in the outlines, and first ROUTINE of business. They are previously necessary to be known; they smooth the way for parts and dexterity. Business requires no conjuration nor supernatural talents, as people unacquainted with it are apt to think. Method, diligence, and discretion, will carry a man, of good strong common sense, much higher than the finest parts, without them, can do. ‘Par negotiis, neque supra’, is the true character of a man of business; but then it implies ready attention and no ABSENCES, and a flexibility and versatility of attention from one object to another, without being engrossed by anyone.
You say that you’re using your time really well, and you are, even if it’s just in the initial stages and basic routine of work. These are important to understand; they make it easier to develop skills and expertise. Business doesn't require magic or special supernatural abilities, as those unfamiliar with it might think. Organization, hard work, and good judgment can take a person with solid common sense much farther than natural talent alone. 'In business matters, nothing beyond' truly defines a business person; however, it also means you need to be attentive and present, able to switch your focus between different tasks without getting stuck on any one of them.
Be upon your guard against the pedantry and affectation of business which young people are apt to fall into, from the pride of being concerned in it young. They look thoughtful, complain of the weight of business, throw out mysterious hints, and seem big with secrets which they do not know. Do you, on the contrary, never talk of business but to those with whom you are to transact it; and learn to seem vacuus and idle, when you have the most business. Of all things, the ‘volte sciollo’, and the ‘pensieri stretti’, are necessary. Adieu.
Be careful of the pretentiousness and showiness that young people often adopt when they get involved in business. They tend to look serious, complain about how heavy their responsibilities are, drop vague hints, and act like they have important secrets they don’t really understand. Instead, only discuss business with the people you’re actually working with, and learn to appear relaxed and unoccupied when you have the most to do. It's essential to have a light touch and keep your thoughts to yourself. Goodbye.
LETTER CLIV
LONDON, December 30, O. S. 1751
MY DEAR FRIEND: The parliaments are the courts of justice of France, and are what our courts of justice in Westminster-Hall are here. They used anciently to follow the court, and administer justice in presence of the King. Philip le Bel first fixed it at Paris, by an edict of 1302. It consisted then of but one chambre, which was called ‘la Chambre des Prelats’, most of the members being ecclesiastics; but the multiplicity of business made it by degrees necessary to create several other chambres. It consists now of seven chambres:
MY DEAR FRIEND: The parliaments serve as the courts of justice in France, similar to our courts of justice at Westminster Hall. In the past, they used to follow the court and administer justice in the presence of the King. Philip IV first established it in Paris with an edict in 1302. At that time, it was just one chamber, called ‘la Chambre des Prelats’, primarily made up of ecclesiastics; however, the increasing volume of cases eventually necessitated the creation of several other chambers. It now consists of seven chambers:
‘La Grande Chambre’, which is the highest court of justice, and to which appeals lie from the others.
‘La Grande Chambre,’ which is the highest court of justice, and to which appeals go from the others.
‘Les cinq Chambres des Enquetes’, which are like our Common Pleas, and Court of Exchequer.
‘The five Inquiry Chambers’, which are like our Common Pleas and Court of Exchequer.
‘La Tournelle’, which is the court for criminal justice, and answers to our Old Bailey and King’s Bench.
‘La Tournelle’, which is the court for criminal justice, and corresponds to our Old Bailey and King’s Bench.
There are in all twelve parliaments in France: 1. Paris 2. Toulouse 3. Grenoble 4. Bourdeaux 5. Dijon 6. Rouen 7. Aix en Provence 8. Rennes en Bretagne 9. Pau en Navarre 10. Metz 11. Dole en Franche Comte 12. Douay
There are a total of twelve parliaments in France: 1. Paris 2. Toulouse 3. Grenoble 4. Bordeaux 5. Dijon 6. Rouen 7. Aix-en-Provence 8. Rennes in Brittany 9. Pau in Navarre 10. Metz 11. Dole in Franche-Comté 12. Douai
There are three ‘Conseils Souverains’, which may almost be called parliaments; they are those of:
There are three 'Sovereign Councils,' which could almost be referred to as parliaments; they are:
Perpignan Arras Alsace
Perpignan Arras Alsace
For further particulars of the French parliaments, read ‘Bernard de la Rochefavin des Parlemens de France’, and other authors, who have treated that subject constitutionally. But what will be still better, converse upon it with people of sense and knowledge, who will inform you of the particular objects of the several chambres, and the businesses of the respective members, as, ‘les Presidens, les Presidens a Mortier’ (these last so called from their black velvet caps laced with gold), ‘les Maitres tres des Requetes, les Greffiers, le Procureur General, les Avocats Generaux, les Conseillers’, etc. The great point in dispute is concerning the powers of the parliament of Paris in matters of state, and relatively to the Crown. They pretend to the powers of the States-General of France when they used to be assembled (which, I think, they have not been since the reign of Lewis the Thirteenth, in the year 1615). The Crown denies those pretensions, and considers them only as courts of justice. Mezeray seems to be on the side of the parliament in this question, which is very well worth your inquiry. But, be that as it will, the parliament of Paris is certainly a very respectable body, and much regarded by the whole kingdom. The edicts of the Crown, especially those for levying money on the subjects, ought to be registered in parliament; I do not say to have their effect, for the Crown would take good care of that; but to have a decent appearance, and to procure a willing acquiescence in the nation. And the Crown itself, absolute as it is, does not love that strong opposition, and those admirable remonstrances, which it sometimes meets with from the parliaments. Many of those detached pieces are very well worth your collecting; and I remember, a year or two ago, a remonstrance of the parliament of Douay, upon the subject, as I think, of the ‘Vingtieme’, which was in my mind one of the finest and most moving compositions I ever read. They owned themselves, indeed, to be slaves, and showed their chains: but humbly begged of his Majesty to make them a little lighter, and less galling.
For more details about the French parliaments, check out ‘Bernard de la Rochefavin des Parlemens de France’ and other authors who have discussed the topic constitutionally. Even better, talk to knowledgeable people who can explain the specific roles of the different chambers and the responsibilities of their members, like ‘les Présidens, les Présidens à Mortier’ (the latter named for their black velvet caps trimmed with gold), ‘les Maitres tres des Requetes, les Greffiers, le Procureur General, les Avocats Generaux, les Conseillers’, etc. The main issue at stake is the powers of the parliament of Paris in matters of state and its relationship to the Crown. They claim to have the powers of the States-General of France when they used to convene (which, as far as I know, hasn't happened since the reign of Louis the Thirteenth in 1615). The Crown rejects those claims and views them merely as courts of justice. Mezeray seems to side with the parliament on this matter, which is definitely worth your exploration. Regardless, the parliament of Paris is a very respected institution and holds significant regard throughout the kingdom. The Crown’s edicts, especially those concerning taxation, should be registered in parliament; I don’t mean that it’s required for their effect— the Crown would ensure that happens—but for appearances' sake and to gain the acceptance of the public. Even the Crown, despite its absolute power, doesn't appreciate strong opposition and those remarkable remonstrances it occasionally faces from the parliaments. Many of those individual pieces are worth collecting; I recall that a year or two ago, the parliament of Douay issued a remonstrance about the ‘Vingtieme’, which I thought was one of the finest and most moving writings I had ever read. They acknowledged themselves as slaves and displayed their chains, but humbly asked His Majesty to make them a little lighter and less oppressive.
THE STATES OF FRANCE were general assemblies of the three states or orders of the kingdom; the Clergy, the Nobility, and the ‘Tiers Etat’, that is, the people. They used to be called together by the King, upon the most important affairs of state, like our Lords and Commons in parliament, and our Clergy in convocation. Our parliament is our states, and the French parliaments are only their courts of justice. The Nobility consisted of all those of noble extraction, whether belonging to the SWORD or to the ROBE, excepting such as were chosen (which sometimes happened) by the Tiers Etat as their deputies to the States-General. The Tiers Etat was exactly our House of Commons, that is, the people, represented by deputies of their own choosing. Those who had the most considerable places, ‘dans la robe’, assisted at those assemblies, as commissioners on the part of the Crown. The States met, for the first time that I can find (I mean by the name of ‘les etats’), in the reign of Pharamond, 424, when they confirmed the Salic law. From that time they have been very frequently assembled, sometimes upon important occasions, as making war and peace, reforming abuses, etc.; at other times, upon seemingly trifling ones, as coronations, marriages, etc. Francis the First assembled them, in 1526, to declare null and void his famous treaty of Madrid, signed and sworn to by him during his captivity there. They grew troublesome to the kings and to their ministers, and were but seldom called after the power of the Crown grew strong; and they have never been heard of since the year 1615. Richelieu came and shackled the nation, and Mazarin and Lewis the Fourteenth riveted the shackles.
THE STATES OF FRANCE were general assemblies of the three estates or orders of the kingdom: the Clergy, the Nobility, and the 'Tiers Etat', which means the people. They were convened by the King for significant state matters, similar to our Lords and Commons in Parliament and our Clergy in convocation. Our Parliament is our states, while the French parliaments are mainly their courts of justice. The Nobility included anyone of noble birth, whether from the SWORD or the ROBE, except those chosen (which sometimes happened) by the Tiers Etat as their representatives at the States-General. The Tiers Etat was exactly like our House of Commons, representing the people through deputies they selected themselves. Those with the most important positions 'dans la robe' attended these assemblies as representatives of the Crown. The States first met, as far as I can tell (using the term 'les etats'), during the reign of Pharamond in 424, when they confirmed the Salic law. Since then, they have been convened often, sometimes for significant issues like declaring war or peace, or reforming abuses, and at other times for seemingly trivial matters, like coronations and marriages. Francis the First called them together in 1526 to declare his famous treaty of Madrid null and void, which he had signed and sworn to during his captivity there. They became a nuisance to kings and their ministers and were rarely called after the Crown's power strengthened; they have not been heard from since 1615. Richelieu came and subdued the nation, followed by Mazarin and Louis the Fourteenth, who firmly established that control.
There still subsist in some provinces in France, which are called ‘pais d etats’, an humble local imitation, or rather mimicry, of the great ‘etats’, as in Languedoc, Bretagne, etc. They meet, they speak, they grumble, and finally submit to whatever the King orders.
There are still some provinces in France, known as 'pais d'états', that have a modest local version, or rather imitation, of the great 'états', like in Languedoc, Bretagne, etc. They gather, they talk, they complain, and eventually go along with whatever the King decides.
Independently of the intrinsic utility of this kind of knowledge to every man of business, it is a shame for any man to be ignorant of it, especially relatively to any country he has been long in. Adieu.
Regardless of how useful this kind of knowledge is to every business person, it's a shame for anyone to be unaware of it, especially regarding any country they've lived in for a long time. Goodbye.
1752
LETTER CLV
LETTER 155
LONDON, January 2, O. S. 1752.
LONDON, January 2, 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Laziness of mind, or inattention, are as great enemies to knowledge as incapacity; for, in truth, what difference is there between a man who will not, and a man who cannot be informed? This difference only, that the former is justly to be blamed, the latter to be pitied. And yet how many there are, very capable of receiving knowledge, who from laziness, inattention, and incuriousness, will not so much as ask for it, much less take the least pains to acquire it!
MY DEAR FRIEND: Laziness of mind or lack of attention are just as much enemies to knowledge as inability; because, really, what’s the difference between someone who won’t be informed and someone who can’t be? The only difference is that the former deserves blame, while the latter deserves pity. And yet, there are so many who are completely capable of gaining knowledge but, due to laziness, inattention, and lack of curiosity, don’t even bother to ask for it, let alone make an effort to acquire it!
Our young English travelers generally distinguish themselves by a voluntary privation of all that useful knowledge for which they are sent abroad; and yet, at that age, the most useful knowledge is the most easy to be acquired; conversation being the book, and the best book in which it is contained. The drudgery of dry grammatical learning is over, and the fruits of it are mixed with, and adorned by, the flowers of conversation. How many of our young men have been a year at Rome, and as long at Paris, without knowing the meaning and institution of the Conclave in the former, and of the parliament in the latter? and this merely for want of asking the first people they met with in those several places, who could at least have given them some general notions of those matters.
Our young English travelers often stand out by choosing to ignore all the practical knowledge they’re supposed to gain while abroad. Yet, at that age, the most useful knowledge is also the easiest to learn, as conversation serves as the best source for it. The boring routine of memorizing grammar rules is behind them, and the benefits of it blend with and are enhanced by the engaging nature of conversation. How many of our young men spend a year in Rome and just as long in Paris without ever learning about the Conclave in the former or the parliament in the latter? This happens simply because they don't bother to ask the first people they encounter in those cities, who could have at least provided them with some basic understanding of these topics.
You will, I hope, be wiser, and omit no opportunity (for opportunities present themselves every hour of the day) of acquainting yourself with all those political and constitutional particulars of the kingdom and government of France. For instance, when you hear people mention le Chancelier, or ‘le Garde de Sceaux’, is it any great trouble for you to ask, or for others to tell you, what is the nature, the powers, the objects, and the profits of those two employments, either when joined together, as they often are, or when separate, as they are at present? When you hear of a gouverneur, a lieutenant du Roi, a commandant, and an intendant of the same province, is, it not natural, is it not becoming, is it not necessary, for a stranger to inquire into their respective rights and privileges? And yet, I dare say, there are very few Englishmen who know the difference between the civil department of the Intendant, and the military powers of the others. When you hear (as I am persuaded you must) every day of the ‘Vingtieme’, which is one in twenty, and consequently five per cent., inquire upon what that tax is laid, whether upon lands, money, merchandise, or upon all three; how levied, and what it is supposed to produce. When you find in books: (as you will sometimes) allusion to particular laws and customs, do not rest till you have traced them up to their source. To give you two examples: you will meet in some French comedies, ‘Cri’, or ‘Clameur de Haro’; ask what it means, and you will be told that it is a term of the law in Normandy, and means citing, arresting, or obliging any person to appear in the courts of justice, either upon a civil or a criminal account; and that it is derived from ‘a Raoul’, which Raoul was anciently Duke of Normandy, and a prince eminent for his justice; insomuch, that when any injustice was committed, the cry immediately was, ‘Venez, a Raoul, a Raoul’, which words are now corrupted and jumbled into ‘haro’. Another, ‘Le vol du Chapon, that is, a certain district of ground immediately contiguous to the mansion-seat of a family, and answers to what we call in English DEMESNES. It is in France computed at about 1,600 feet round the house, that being supposed to be the extent of the capon’s flight from ‘la basse cour’. This little district must go along with the mansion-seat, however the rest of the estate may be divided.
I hope you become wiser and take every chance (since opportunities come up every hour) to learn about all the political and constitutional details of the kingdom and government of France. For example, when people mention le Chancelier or ‘le Garde de Sceaux,’ isn’t it easy for you to ask, or for others to explain, what those two roles entail regarding their responsibilities, powers, purpose, and benefits, either when they are combined, as they often are, or when they are separate, as they are now? When you hear of a gouverneur, a lieutenant du Roi, a commandant, and an intendant in the same province, isn’t it natural, proper, and necessary for a newcomer to inquire about their respective rights and privileges? Yet, I bet very few Englishmen understand the difference between the Intendant's civil duties and the military powers of the others. When you hear (as I believe you certainly will) about the ‘Vingtieme,’ which is one of twenty and equals five percent, ask what this tax is applied to—whether it’s on lands, money, merchandise, or all three; how it’s collected, and what it’s expected to yield. When you come across references in books (as you will occasionally) to specific laws and customs, don’t stop until you trace them back to their origin. To give you two examples: in some French comedies, you’ll see ‘Cri’ or ‘Clameur de Haro’; ask what that means, and you’ll find it’s a legal term in Normandy that refers to citing, arresting, or compelling someone to appear in court, whether for civil or criminal matters; it comes from ‘a Raoul,’ who was an ancient Duke of Normandy known for his sense of justice. So much so that whenever an injustice occurred, the call would be made, ‘Venez, a Raoul, a Raoul,’ which has since been corrupted into ‘haro.’ Another example, ‘Le vol du Chapon,’ refers to a specific piece of land immediately next to a family’s home, corresponding to what we call DEMESNES in English. In France, this area is generally measured to be about 1,600 feet around the house, thought to be the distance a capon can fly from ‘la basse cour.’ This small area must remain with the mansion, regardless of how the rest of the estate is divided.
I do not mean that you should be a French lawyer; but I would not have you unacquainted with the general principles of their law, in matters that occur every day: Such is the nature of their descents, that is, the inheritance of lands: Do they all go to the eldest son, or are they equally divided among the children of the deceased? In England, all lands unsettled descend to the eldest son, as heir-at-law, unless otherwise disposed of by the father’s will, except in the county of Kent, where a particular custom prevails, called Gavelkind; by which, if the father dies intestate, all his children divide his lands equally among them. In Germany, as you know, all lands that, are not fiefs are equally divided among all the children, which ruins those families; but all male fiefs of the empire descend unalienably to the next male heir, which preserves those families. In France, I believe, descents vary in different provinces.
I don't mean you should become a French lawyer, but I think you should be familiar with the basic principles of their law concerning everyday matters. For example, the rules about inheritance are important: Do all lands go to the eldest son, or are they split equally among the deceased's children? In England, all unsettled lands go to the eldest son as the legal heir unless the father specifies otherwise in a will, except in Kent where a unique custom known as Gavelkind applies. Under Gavelkind, if the father dies without a will, all his children share his lands equally. In Germany, as you know, all lands that aren’t fiefs are divided equally among all the children, which often leads to financial struggles for those families. However, all male fiefs of the empire pass down unchangingly to the next male heir, which helps maintain those families. In France, the rules about inheritance differ from one province to another.
The nature of marriage contracts deserves inquiry. In England, the general practice is, the husband takes all the wife’s fortune; and in consideration of it settles upon her a proper pin-money, as it is called; that is, an annuity during his life, and a jointure after his death. In France it is not so, particularly at Paris; where ‘la communaute des biens’ is established. Any married woman at Paris (IF YOU ARE ACQUAINTED WITH ONE) can inform you of all these particulars.
The nature of marriage contracts deserves examination. In England, the typical practice is that the husband receives all of the wife's fortune and, in return, provides her with an allowance, known as pin-money; this means he gives her an annuity for his lifetime and a jointure after his death. In France, especially in Paris, it's different; there, 'la communaute des biens' exists. Any married woman in Paris (IF YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH ONE) can tell you all the details about this.
These and other things of the same nature, are the useful and rational objects of the curiosity of a man of sense and business. Could they only be attained by laborious researches in folio-books, and wormeaten manuscripts, I should not wonder at a young fellow’s being ignorant of them; but as they are the frequent topics of conversation, and to be known by a very little degree of curiosity, inquiry and attention, it is unpardonable not to know them.
These and other similar things are the useful and sensible subjects for a thoughtful person involved in business. If learning about them required exhausting research in thick books and old manuscripts, I wouldn't be surprised if a young person didn't know about them; but since they are common topics of conversation and can be understood with just a bit of curiosity, inquiry, and attention, it's inexcusable not to be familiar with them.
Thus I have given you some hints only for your inquiries; ‘l’Etat de la France, l’Almanach Royal’, and twenty other such superficial books, will furnish you with a thousand more. ‘Approfondissez.’
Thus I've only provided you with a few hints for your research; 'l’Etat de la France, l’Almanach Royal', and twenty other similar superficial books will give you a thousand more. 'Dig deeper.'
How often, and how justly, have I since regretted negligences of this kind in my youth! And how often have I since been at great trouble to learn many things which I could then have learned without any! Save yourself now, then, I beg of you, that regret and trouble hereafter. Ask questions, and many questions; and leave nothing till you are thoroughly informed of it. Such pertinent questions are far from being illbred or troublesome to those of whom you ask them; on the contrary, they are a tacit compliment to their knowledge; and people have a better opinion of a young man, when they see him desirous to be informed.
How often, and how rightly, have I regretted neglecting things like this in my youth! And how often have I struggled to learn many things that I could have easily learned back then! So, do yourself a favor, I urge you, and avoid that regret and hassle later. Ask questions, and lots of them; and don't leave anything until you fully understand it. Those relevant questions are far from being rude or annoying to the people you ask; on the contrary, they show respect for their knowledge, and people think more highly of a young person when they see them eager to learn.
I have by last post received your two letters of the 1st and 5th of January, N. S. I am very glad that you have been at all the shows at Versailles: frequent the courts. I can conceive the murmurs of the French at the poorness of the fireworks, by which they thought their king of their country degraded; and, in truth, were things always as they should be, when kings give shows they ought to be magnificent.
I recently got your two letters dated January 1st and 5th, N.S. I’m really glad you attended all the shows in Versailles; it's great to be around the court. I can imagine the complaints from the French about the poor quality of the fireworks, which they felt made their king look bad. Honestly, if things were as they should be, royal events should always be impressive.
I thank you for the ‘These de la Sorbonne’, which you intend to send me, and which I am impatient to receive. But pray read it carefully yourself first; and inform yourself what the Sorbonne is by whom founded, and for what puraoses.
I appreciate you sending me ‘These de la Sorbonne,’ and I can't wait to get it. But please, read it carefully yourself first; and find out what the Sorbonne is, who founded it, and what its purposes are.
Since you have time, you have done very well to take an Italian and a German master; but pray take care to leave yourelf time enough for company; for it is in company only that you can learn what will be much more useful to you than either Italian or German; I mean ‘la politesse, les manieres et les graces, without which, as I told you long ago, and I told you true, ‘ogni fatica a vana’. Adieu.
Since you have some time, it's great that you've taken on an Italian and a German master. But please make sure you also set aside enough time for socializing, because it’s in those interactions that you’ll learn things much more useful than either Italian or German. I mean things like manners and grace, without which, as I mentioned a while back, all your efforts are in vain. Goodbye.
Pray make my compliments to Lady Brown.
Please send my regards to Lady Brown.
LETTER CLVI
LONDON, January 6, O. S. 1752. MY DEAR FRIEND
LONDON, January 6, O. S. 1752. MY DEAR FRIEND
I recommended to you, in my last, some inquiries into the constitution of that famous society the Sorbonne; but as I cannot wholly trust to the diligence of those inquiries, I will give you here the outlines of that establishment; which may possibly excite you to inform yourself of particulars, which you are more ‘a portee’ to know than I am.
I suggested in my last message that you look into the structure of the well-known society, the Sorbonne. However, since I can't fully rely on the thoroughness of those inquiries, I’ll provide you with an overview of the organization. This might encourage you to learn more specifics that you’re better equipped to find out than I am.
It was founded by Robert de Sorbon, in the year 1256 for sixteen poor scholars in divinity; four of each nation, of the university of which it made a part; since that it hath been much extended and enriched, especially by the liberality and pride of Cardinal Richelieu; who made it a magnificent building for six-and-thirty doctors of that society to live in; besides which, there are six professors and schools for divinity. This society has long been famous for theological knowledge and exercitations. There unintelligible points are debated with passion, though they can never be determined by reason. Logical subtilties set common sense at defiance; and mystical refinements disfigure and disguise the native beauty and simplicity of true natural religion; wild imaginations form systems, which weak minds adopt implicitly, and which sense and reason oppose in vain; their voice is not strong enough to be heard in schools of divinity. Political views are by no means neglected in those sacred places; and questions are agitated and decided, according to the degree of regard, or rather submission, which the Sovereign is pleased to show the Church. Is the King a slave to the Church, though a tyrant to the laity? The least resistance to his will shall be declared damnable. But if he will not acknowledge the superiority of their spiritual over his temporal, nor even admit their ‘imperium in imperio’, which is the least they will compound for, it becomes meritorious not only to resist, but to depose him. And I suppose that the bold propositions in the thesis you mention, are a return for the valuation of ‘les biens du Clerge’.
It was founded by Robert de Sorbon in 1256 for sixteen poor scholars in theology; four from each nation of the university it was part of. Since then, it has been significantly expanded and enriched, especially by the generosity and ambition of Cardinal Richelieu, who created an impressive building for thirty-six members of that society to live in; in addition, there are six professors and schools for theology. This society has long been recognized for its theological expertise and discussions. There, difficult points are debated passionately, even though they can never be resolved by reason. Logical subtleties defy common sense, and mystical complexities obscure the innate beauty and simplicity of true natural religion; vivid imaginations create systems that weaker minds accept uncritically, which sense and reason oppose in vain; their voices are too faint to be heard in theological schools. Political considerations are certainly not overlooked in those sacred spaces; issues are raised and resolved based on the level of respect, or rather submission, that the Sovereign chooses to show the Church. Is the King a servant to the Church while being a tyrant to the people? Any slight opposition to his will will be declared sinful. But if he refuses to acknowledge their spiritual authority over his temporal power, or even recognize their ‘imperium in imperio’, which is the least they will settle for, it becomes praiseworthy not just to resist but to overthrow him. I assume that the bold statements in the thesis you mentioned are a response to the valuation of ‘les biens du Clerge’.
I would advise you, by all means, to attend to two or three of their public disputations, in order to be informed both of the manner and the substance of those scholastic exercises. Pray remember to go to all those kind of things. Do not put it off, as one is too apt to do those things which one knows can be done every day, or any day; for one afterward repents extremely, when too late, the not having done them.
I strongly encourage you to check out two or three of their public debates to get a feel for both how they’re conducted and what the discussions are about. Make sure you attend all of these events. Don’t procrastinate, as it’s easy to put off things you assume can be done anytime; you’ll end up regretting it when it’s too late and you haven’t attended.
But there is another (so-called) religious society, of which the minutest circumstance deserves attention, and furnishes great matter for useful reflections. You easily guess that I mean the society of ‘les R. R. P. P. Jesuites’, established but in the year 1540, by a Bull of Pope Paul III. Its progress, and I may say its victories, were more rapid than those of the Romans; for within the same century it governed all Europe; and, in the next, it extended its influence over the whole world. Its founder was an abandoned profligate Spanish officer, Ignatius Loyola; who, in the year 1521, being wounded in the leg at the ‘siege of Pampeluna, went mad from the smart of his wound, the reproaches of his conscience, and his confinement, during which he read the lives of the Saints. Consciousness of guilt, a fiery temper, and a wild imagination, the common ingredients of enthusiasm, made this madman devote himself to the particular service of the Virgin Mary; whose knight-errant he declared himself, in the very same form in which the old knight-errants in romances used to declare themselves the knights and champions of certain beautiful and incomparable princesses, whom sometimes they had, but oftener had not, seen. For Dulcinea del Toboso was by no means the first princess whom her faithful and valorous knight had never seen in his life. The enthusiast went to the Holy Land, from whence he returned to Spain, where he began to learn Latin and philosophy at three-and-thirty years old, so that no doubt but he made great progress in both. The better to carry on his mad and wicked designs, he chose four disciples, or rather apostles, all Spaniards, viz, Laynes, Salmeron, Bobadilla, and Rodriguez. He then composed the rules and constitutions of his order; which, in the year 1547, was called the order of Jesuits, from the church of Jesus in Rome, which was given them. Ignatius died in 1556, aged sixty-five, thirty-five years after his conversion, and sixteen years after the establishment of his society. He was canonized in the year 1609, and is doubtless now a saint in heaven.
But there’s another so-called religious group that deserves attention, and offers plenty of food for thought. You can easily tell I'm talking about the Society of 'les R. R. P. P. Jesuites,' which was established in 1540 by a papal bull from Pope Paul III. Its growth, and I can even say its successes, were quicker than those of the Romans; within the same century, it was leading all of Europe, and in the next century, it spread its influence across the entire world. Its founder was Ignatius Loyola, a reckless Spanish officer. In 1521, he got wounded in the leg during the siege of Pampeluna, and from the pain of his injury, the guilt on his conscience, and being confined, he went a bit mad. During his recovery, he read the lives of the Saints. Feeling guilty, having a fiery temperament, and an overactive imagination—traits often found in fanatics—led this troubled man to dedicate himself to the Virgin Mary, declaring himself her knight in a manner similar to the old knight-errants from stories, who claimed to be the champions of beautiful and exceptional princesses, whom they had sometimes seen but more often had not. For Dulcinea del Toboso was definitely not the first princess her loyal knight had never encountered. This enthusiast traveled to the Holy Land, then returned to Spain, where he started learning Latin and philosophy at the age of thirty-three, so he surely made significant progress in both. To further his wild and misguided plans, he chose four disciples, or rather apostles, all Spaniards: Laynes, Salmeron, Bobadilla, and Rodriguez. He then wrote the rules and constitutions of his order, which, in 1547, was named the Jesuit order, after the Church of Jesus in Rome that was given to them. Ignatius passed away in 1556 at the age of sixty-five, thirty-five years after his conversion and sixteen years after establishing his society. He was canonized in 1609 and is surely a saint in heaven now.
If the religious and moral principles of this society are to be detested, as they justly are, the wisdom of their political principles is as justly to be admired. Suspected, collectively as an order, of the greatest crimes, and convicted of many, they have either escaped punishment, or triumphed after it; as in France, in the reign of Henry IV. They have, directly or indirectly, governed the consciences and the councils of all the Catholic princes in Europe; they almost governed China in the reign of Cangghi; and they are now actually in possession of the Paraguay in America, pretending, but paying no obedience to the Crown of Spain. As a collective body they are detested, even by all the Catholics, not excepting the clergy, both secular and regular, and yet, as individuals, they are loved, respected, and they govern wherever they are.
If the religious and moral principles of this society are to be disliked, as they rightly are, the wisdom of their political principles is equally worthy of admiration. There are suspicions about them, as a group, regarding serious crimes, and they have been convicted of many; yet they either avoided punishment or emerged victorious after it, like in France during Henry IV's reign. They have, whether directly or indirectly, influenced the beliefs and decisions of all the Catholic rulers in Europe; they nearly controlled China during the reign of Cangghi, and they currently hold Paraguay in America, pretending to follow but not actually obeying the Crown of Spain. As a whole, they are disliked, even by all Catholics, including both secular and regular clergy, but individually, they are loved, respected, and they take charge wherever they go.
Two things, I believe, contribute to their success. The first, that passive, implicit, unlimited obedience to their General (who always resides at Rome), and to the superiors of their several houses, appointed by him. This obedience is observed by them all to a most astonishing degree; and, I believe, there is no one society in the world, of which so many individuals sacrifice their private interest to the general one of the society itself. The second is the education of youth, which they have in a manner engrossed; there they give the first, and the first are the lasting impressions; those impressions are always calculated to be favorable to the society. I have known many Catholics, educated by the Jesuits, who, though they detested the society, from reason and knowledge, have always remained attached to it, from habit and prejudice. The Jesuits know, better than any set of people in the world, the importance of the art of pleasing, and study it more; they become all things to all men in order to gain, not a few, but many. In Asia, Africa, and America they become more than half pagans, in order to convert the pagans to be less than half Christians. In private families they begin by insinuating themselves as friends, they grow to be favorites, and they end DIRECTORS. Their manners are not like those of any other regulars in the world, but gentle, polite, and engaging. They are all carefully bred up to that particular destination, to which they seem to have a natural turn; for which reason one sees most Jesuits excel in some particular thing. They even breed up some for martyrdom in case of need; as the superior of a Jesuit seminary at Rome told Lord Bolingbroke. ‘E abbiamo anche martiri per il martirio, se bisogna’.
Two things, I believe, contribute to their success. First, their passive, implicit, and complete obedience to their General (who always resides in Rome) and to the heads of their respective houses, appointed by him. This obedience is observed by them all to an astonishing degree; I believe there is no other group in the world where so many individuals sacrifice their personal interests for the overall benefit of the group itself. The second factor is their dominance in youth education; they handle it in such a way that the first impressions are the most lasting, and those impressions are always designed to favor the organization. I have known many Catholics educated by the Jesuits who, despite their dislike for the society based on reason and knowledge, remain attached to it due to habit and prejudice. The Jesuits understand the importance of the art of pleasing better than anyone else and study it extensively; they adapt to all kinds of people to gain not just a few but many followers. In Asia, Africa, and America, they often adopt pagan customs to convert pagans into Christians who are less than half committed. In private homes, they start by ingratiating themselves as friends, become favorites, and ultimately turn into DIRECTORS. Their behavior is not like that of any other religious order in the world; it is gentle, polite, and engaging. They are all raised specifically for this purpose, which they seem naturally inclined to; for this reason, many Jesuits excel in certain areas. They even prepare some for martyrdom if necessary, as the head of a Jesuit seminary in Rome told Lord Bolingbroke, "E abbiamo anche martiri per il martirio, se bisogna."
Inform yourself minutely of everything concerning this extraordinary establishment; go into their houses, get acquainted with individuals, hear some of them preach. The finest preacher I ever heard in my life is le Pere Neufville, who, I believe, preaches still at Paris, and is so much in the best company, that you may easily get personally acquainted with him.
Get fully informed about everything related to this remarkable place; visit their homes, get to know the people, and listen to some of them preach. The best preacher I've ever heard in my life is Father Neufville, who I think still preaches in Paris and is well-connected enough that you can easily meet him in person.
If you would know their ‘morale’ read Pascal’s ‘Lettres Provinciales’, in which it is very truly displayed from their own writings.
If you want to understand their 'morale,' read Pascal's 'Lettres Provinciales,' where it is accurately shown through their own writings.
Upon the whole, this is certain, that a society of which so little good is said, and so much ill believed, and that still not only subsists, but flourishes, must be a very able one. It is always mentioned as a proof of the superior abilities of the Cardinal Richelieu, that, though hated by all the nation, and still more by his master, he kept his power in spite of both.
Overall, it's clear that a society which has so little good said about it and so many negative beliefs, yet continues not only to exist but to thrive, must be quite strong. It's often noted as evidence of Cardinal Richelieu's exceptional skills that, despite being hated by the entire nation and even more by his own king, he managed to maintain his power against both.
I would earnestly wish you to do everything now, which I wish, that I had done at your age, and did not do. Every country has its peculiarities, which one can be much better informed of during one’s residence there, than by reading all the books in the world afterward. While you are in Catholic countries, inform yourself of all the forms and ceremonies of that tawdry church; see their converts both of men and women, know their several rules and orders, attend their most remarkable ceremonies; have their terms of art explained to you, their ‘tierce, sexte, nones, matines; vepres, complies’; their ‘breviares, rosaires, heures, chapelets, agnus’, etc., things that many people talk of from habit, though few people know the true meaning of anyone of them. Converse with, and study the characters of some of those incarcerated enthusiasts. Frequent some ‘parloirs’, and see the air and manners of those Recluse, who are a distinct nation themselves, and like no other.
I really hope you do everything now that I wish I had done at your age but didn’t. Every country has its unique traits that you can better understand while living there rather than by reading every book later. While you’re in Catholic countries, learn about all the rituals and ceremonies of that flashy church; observe their converts, both men and women, and get to know their various rules and orders. Attend their most notable ceremonies; have the meanings of their specialized terms explained to you, like ‘tierce, sexte, nones, matines; vepres, complies’; their ‘breviaires, rosaires, heures, chapelets, agnus’, etc., things that many people mention out of habit, but very few actually know the true meanings of. Talk to and study the personalities of some of those dedicated enthusiasts. Visit some ‘parloirs’ and see the vibe and behavior of those Recluses, who form a unique group of their own and are unlike anyone else.
I dined yesterday with Mrs. F——d, her mother and husband. He is an athletic Hibernian, handsome in his person, but excessively awkward and vulgar in his air and manner. She inquired much after you, and, I thought, with interest. I answered her as a ‘Mezzano’ should do: ‘Et je pronai votre tendresse, vos soins, et vos soupirs’.
I had lunch yesterday with Mrs. F——d, her mother, and her husband. He is a fit Irish guy, good-looking but really clumsy and crude in his behavior. She asked a lot about you, and I think she was genuinely interested. I responded the way a ‘Mezzano’ should: ‘Et je pronai votre tendresse, vos soins, et vos soupirs’.
When you meet with any British returning to their own country, pray send me by them any little ‘brochures, factums, theses’, etc., ‘qui font du bruit ou du plaisir a Paris’. Adieu, child.
When you meet any British people returning to their country, please send me any little 'brochures, fact sheets, theses,' etc., 'that are making waves or bringing joy in Paris.' Goodbye, dear.
LETTER CLVII
LONDON, January 23, O. S. 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Have you seen the new tragedy of Varon,—[Written by the Vicomte de Grave; and at that time the general topic of conversation at Paris.]—and what do you think of it? Let me know, for I am determined to form my taste upon yours. I hear that the situations and incidents are well brought on, and the catastrophe unexpected and surprising, but the verses bad. I suppose it is the subject of all conversations at Paris, where both women and men are judges and critics of all such performances; such conversations, that both form and improve the taste, and whet the judgment; are surely preferable to the conversations of our mixed companies here; which, if they happen to rise above bragg and whist, infallibly stop short of everything either pleasing or instructive.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Have you seen the new tragedy by Varon—[Written by the Vicomte de Grave; and at that time the main topic of conversation in Paris.]—what do you think of it? Let me know, because I want to shape my taste based on yours. I hear the situations and events are well executed, and the ending is unexpected and surprising, but the verses are lacking. I guess it’s the hot topic in Paris, where both women and men act as judges and critics of such works; these discussions, which both shape and refine taste, and sharpen judgment, are definitely better than the conversations we have in our mixed gatherings here, which, if they manage to rise above bragging and card games, always fall short of being either enjoyable or enlightening.
I take the reason of this to be, that (as women generally give the ‘ton’ to the conversation) our English women are not near so well informed and cultivated as the French; besides that they are naturally more serious and silent.
I think the reason for this is that, since women usually set the tone for conversation, our English women are not nearly as well-informed and cultured as the French. Plus, they tend to be more serious and quiet by nature.
I could wish there were a treaty made between the French and English theatres, in which both parties should make considerable concessions. The English ought to give up their notorious violations of all the unities; and all their massacres, racks, dead bodies, and mangled carcasses, which they so frequently exhibit upon their stage. The French should engage to have more action and less declamation; and not to cram and crowd things together, to almost a degree of impossibility, from a too scrupulous adherence to the unities. The English should restrain the licentiousness of their poets, and the French enlarge the liberty of theirs; their poets are the greatest slaves in their country, and that is a bold word; ours are the most tumultuous subjects in England, and that is saying a good deal. Under such regulations one might hope to see a play in which one should not be lulled to sleep by the length of a monotonical declamation, nor frightened and shocked by the barbarity of the action. The unity of time extended occasionally to three or four days, and the unity of place broke into, as far as the same street, or sometimes the same town; both which, I will affirm, are as probable as four-and-twenty hours, and the same room.
I wish there was an agreement between French and English theaters where both sides would make significant compromises. The English should give up their infamous disregard for the unities, along with the countless instances of violence, torture, corpses, and mutilated bodies that they frequently showcase on stage. The French should promise to include more action and less long-winded speeches, and avoid cramming everything together to an impossible degree by being overly strict about the unities. The English should control the excesses of their playwrights, while the French should allow more freedom for theirs; the playwrights in France are the most restricted in their country, and that’s saying a lot; ours are some of the most unruly in England, which is quite a statement. With such rules in place, one could hope to see a play that wouldn’t put you to sleep with endless speeches or terrify you with brutal scenes. The unity of time could occasionally extend to three or four days, and the unity of place could stretch to the same street or sometimes the same town; both of which I assert are just as likely as twenty-four hours and the same room.
More indulgence too, in my mind, should be shown, than the French are willing to allow, to bright thoughts, and to shining images; for though, I confess, it is not very natural for a hero or a princess to say fine things in all the violence of grief, love, rage, etc., yet, I can as well suppose that, as I can that they should talk to themselves for half an hour; which they must necessarily do, or no tragedy could be carried on, unless they had recourse to a much greater absurdity, the choruses of the ancients. Tragedy is of a nature, that one must see it with a degree of self-deception; we must lend ourselves a little to the delusion; and I am very willing to carry that complaisance a little farther than the French do.
I think we should be more lenient than the French are about allowing bright thoughts and striking images in storytelling. While I admit it's not very realistic for a hero or a princess to express beautiful ideas amid intense feelings like grief, love, or rage, I can easily imagine them talking to themselves for half an hour. They have to do that, or else no tragedy could unfold, unless they resorted to a much bigger absurdity like the choruses of ancient times. Tragedy requires a bit of self-deception; we need to allow ourselves some suspension of disbelief. I'm definitely more willing to extend that tolerance than the French are.
Tragedy must be something bigger than life, or it would not affect us. In nature the most violent passions are silent; in tragedy they must speak, and speak with dignity too. Hence the necessity of their being written in verse, and unfortunately for the French, from the weakness of their language, in rhymes. And for the same reason, Cato the Stoic, expiring at Utica, rhymes masculine and feminine at Paris; and fetches his last breath at London, in most harmmonious and correct blank verse.
Tragedy has to be something larger than life, or it wouldn’t have an impact on us. In nature, the most intense emotions are quiet; in tragedy, they need to express themselves, and do so with dignity. That’s why they should be written in verse, and unfortunately for the French, due to the limitations of their language, in rhymes. For the same reason, Cato the Stoic, dying in Utica, rhymes masculine and feminine in Paris; and takes his last breath in London, in highly harmonious and correct blank verse.
It is quite otherwise with Comedy, which should be mere common life, and not one jot bigger. Every character should speak upon the stage, not only what it would utter in the situation there represented, but in the same manner in which it would express it. For which reason I cannot allow rhymes in comedy, unless they were put into the mouth, and came out of the mouth of a mad poet. But it is impossible to deceive one’s self enough (nor is it the least necessary in comedy) to suppose a dull rogue of an usurer cheating, or ‘gross Jean’ blundering in the finest rhymes in the world.
Comedy is quite different; it should represent everyday life and nothing more. Each character should only say what they would actually say in the situation being depicted, and they should express it in the same way they would in real life. That's why I can't accept rhymes in comedy, unless they come from the mouth of a crazy poet. However, it's impossible to fool oneself enough (nor is it necessary in comedy) to think that a dull, deceitful usurer would be able to deliver the most elegant rhymes.
As for Operas, they are essentially too absurd and extravagant to mention; I look upon them as a magic scene, contrived to please the eyes and the ears, at the expense of the understanding; and I consider singing, rhyming, and chiming heroes, and princesses, and philosophers, as I do the hills, the trees, the birds, and the beasts, who amicably joined in one common country dance, to the irresistible turn of Orpheus’s lyre. Whenever I go to an opera, I leave my sense and reason at the door with my half guinea, and deliver myself up to my eyes and my ears.
When it comes to operas, they’re just too ridiculous and flashy to discuss; I see them as a magical spectacle designed to entertain the eyes and ears, but at the cost of understanding. I view singing, rhyming, and chiming heroes, princesses, and philosophers the same way I see hills, trees, birds, and animals all happily joining together in a dance to the enchanting music of Orpheus's lyre. Every time I attend an opera, I leave my logic and sense at the door along with my half guinea and surrender myself to what I see and hear.
Thus I have made you my poetical confession; in which I have acknowledged as many sins against the established taste in both countries, as a frank heretic could have owned against the established church in either, but I am now privileged by my age to taste and think for myself, and not to care what other people think of me in those respects; an advantage which youth, among its many advantages, hath not. It must occasionally and outwardly conform, to a certain degree, to establish tastes, fashions, and decisions. A young man may, with a becoming modesty, dissent, in private companies, from public opinions and prejudices: but he must not attack them with warmth, nor magisterially set up his own sentiments against them. Endeavor to hear, and know all opinions; receive them with complaisance; form your own with coolness, and give it with modesty.
So I've shared my poetic confession with you, where I've admitted as many sins against the accepted tastes in both countries as a bold heretic could confess against the established church in either. However, now that I'm older, I have the privilege to think and feel for myself, not worrying about what others think of me in those matters—something youth, with all its perks, doesn't have. Youth must sometimes conform, at least to some extent, to established tastes, trends, and beliefs. A young man can respectfully disagree in private settings with public opinions and biases, but he shouldn't challenge them passionately or arrogantly impose his own views on them. Try to listen to and understand all perspectives; accept them graciously, form your own opinions calmly, and express them modestly.
I have received a letter from Sir John Lambert, in which he requests me to use my interest to procure him the remittance of Mr. Spencer’s money, when he goes abroad and also desires to know to whose account he is to place the postage of my letters. I do not trouble him with a letter in answer, since you can execute the commission. Pray make my compliments to him, and assure him that I will do all I can to procure him Mr. Spencer’s business; but that his most effectual way will be by Messrs. Hoare, who are Mr. Spencer’s cashiers, and who will undoubtedly have their choice upon whom they will give him his credit. As for the postage of the letters, your purse and mine being pretty near the same, do you pay it, over and above your next draught.
I've received a letter from Sir John Lambert asking me to help him get Mr. Spencer’s money sent when he goes abroad. He also wants to know whose account should cover the postage for my letters. I’m not going to reply to him directly since you can handle the request. Please send him my regards and assure him that I’ll do everything I can to help with Mr. Spencer’s business; however, the best approach would be to go through Messrs. Hoare, who are Mr. Spencer’s cashiers and will definitely choose who to give him credit. As for the postage on the letters, since our wallets are pretty much the same, you can cover it and just take it out of your next draft.
Your relations, the Princes B——-, will soon be with you at Paris; for they leave London this week: whenever you converse with them, I desire it may be in Italian; that language not being yet familiar enough to you.
Your relatives, the Princes B——-, will be with you in Paris soon; they are leaving London this week. Whenever you talk to them, I want you to speak in Italian since you’re not yet very familiar with that language.
By our printed papers, there seems to be a sort of compromise between the King and the parliament, with regard to the affairs of the hospitals, by taking them out of the hands of the Archbishop of Paris, and placing them in Monsieur d’Argenson’s: if this be true, that compromise, as it is called, is clearly a victory on the side of the court, and a defeat on the part of the parliament; for if the parliament had a right, they had it as much to the exclusion of Monsieur d’Argenson as of the Archbishop. Adieu.
According to our printed materials, there seems to be a compromise between the King and the parliament regarding the management of the hospitals. This involves removing control from the Archbishop of Paris and giving it to Monsieur d’Argenson. If this is accurate, then this so-called compromise is clearly a win for the court and a loss for the parliament, since if the parliament had any rights, they would apply equally to excluding Monsieur d’Argenson as well as the Archbishop. Goodbye.
LETTER CLVIII
LONDON, February 6, O. S. 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your criticism of Varon is strictly just; but, in truth, severe. You French critics seek for a fault as eagerly as I do for a beauty: you consider things in the worst light, to show your skill, at the expense of your pleasure; I view them in the best, that I may have more pleasure, though at the expense of my judgment. A ‘trompeur trompeur et demi’ is prettily said; and, if you please, you may call ‘Varon, un Normand’, and ‘Sostrate, un Manceau, qui vaut un Normand et demi’; and, considering the ‘denouement’ in the light of trick upon trick, it would undoubtedly be below the dignity of the buskin, and fitter for the sock.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your criticism of Varon is fair, but honestly, quite harsh. You French critics look for faults just as eagerly as I look for beauty: you see things in the worst possible light to showcase your skill, even if it sacrifices your enjoyment; I choose to see them in the best possible way so I can have more enjoyment, even if it compromises my judgment. The phrase ‘trompeur trompeur et demi’ is nicely put; and if you'd like, you can call ‘Varon, a Normand’, and ‘Sostrate, a Manceau, who is worth a Normand and a half’; and considering the ‘denouement’ as a series of tricks, it would certainly be beneath the dignity of a serious play, better suited for a comedy.
But let us see if we cannot bring off the author. The great question upon which all turns, is to discover and ascertain who Cleonice really is. There are doubts concerning her ‘etat’; how shall they be cleared? Had the truth been extorted from Varon (who alone knew) by the rack, it would have been a true tragical ‘denouement’. But that would probably not have done with Varon, who is represented as a bold, determined, wicked, and at that time desperate fellow; for he was in the hands of an enemy who he knew could not forgive him, with common prudence or safety. The rack would, therefore, have extorted no truth from him; but he would have died enjoying the doubts of his enemies, and the confusion that must necessarily attend those doubts. A stratagem is therefore thought of to discover what force and terror could not, and the stratagem such as no king or minister would disdain, to get at an important discovery. If you call that stratagem a TRICK, you vilify it, and make it comical; but call that trick a STRATAGEM, or a MEASURE, and you dignify it up to tragedy: so frequently do ridicule or dignity turn upon one single word. It is commonly said, and more particularly by Lord Shaftesbury, that ridicule is the best test of truth; for that it will not stick where it is not just. I deny it. A truth learned in a certain light, and attacked in certain words, by men of wit and humor, may, and often doth, become ridiculous, at least so far that the truth is only remembered and repeated for the sake of the ridicule. The overturn of Mary of Medicis into a river, where she was half-drowned, would never have been remembered if Madame de Vernuel, who saw it, had not said ‘la Reine boit’. Pleasure or malignity often gives ridicule a weight which it does not deserve. The versification, I must confess, is too much neglected and too often bad: but, upon the whole, I read the play with pleasure.
But let's see if we can figure out who the author is. The main issue we need to resolve is to find out who Cleonice really is. There are questions about her background; how can we clear these up? If the truth had been forced out of Varon (who was the only one who knew) by torture, it would have been a genuine tragic conclusion. But that probably wouldn’t have worked with Varon, who is portrayed as bold, determined, wicked, and, at that moment, desperate; he was in the hands of an enemy who he knew wouldn’t forgive him, which is just common sense. So, no truth would have come from the torture; instead, he would have died relishing the doubts of his enemies and the confusion those doubts brought. So, we thought of a plan to discover what force and fear couldn’t. It’s a scheme that no king or minister would look down upon to make an important discovery. If you call that scheme a TRICK, you diminish it and make it seem funny; but if you call that trick a STRATEGY, or a MEASURE, you elevate it to a dramatic level: often, the distinction between ridicule and dignity hinges on a single word. It’s often said, especially by Lord Shaftesbury, that ridicule is the best test of truth, as it doesn’t stick where it’s not warranted. I disagree. A truth seen in a certain light and attacked in certain words, by clever and humorous people, can often become ridiculous, to the point where the truth is only remembered and repeated for its absurdity. For instance, Mary of Medicis being tossed into a river, where she almost drowned, would never have been recalled if Madame de Vernuel, who witnessed it, hadn’t said, “the Queen drinks.” Pleasure or malice often gives ridicule an importance it doesn’t deserve. I must admit the writing is often neglected and frequently bad; however, overall, I enjoyed reading the play.
If there is but a great deal of wit and character in your new comedy, I will readily compound for its having little or no plot. I chiefly mind dialogue and character in comedies. Let dull critics feed upon the carcasses of plays; give me the taste and the dressing.
If there’s a lot of wit and character in your new comedy, I’m totally okay with it having little or no plot. I mainly care about dialogue and character in comedies. Let boring critics pick apart the remains of plays; I want the flavor and the presentation.
I am very glad you went to Versailles to see the ceremony of creating the Prince de Conde ‘Chevalier de l’ Ordre’; and I do not doubt but that upon this occasion you informed yourself thoroughly of the institution and rules of that order. If you did, you were certainly told it was instituted by Henry III. immediately after his return, or rather his flight from Poland; he took the hint of it at Venice, where he had seen the original manuscript of an order of the ‘St. Esprit, ou droit desir’, which had been instituted in 1352, by Louis d’Anjou, King of Jerusalem and Sicily, and husband to Jane, Queen of Naples, Countess of Provence. This Order was under the protection of St. Nicholas de Bari, whose image hung to the collar. Henry III. found the Order of St. Michael prostituted and degraded, during the civil wars; he therefore joined it to his new Order of the St. Esprit, and gave them both together; for which reason every knight of the St. Esprit is now called Chevalier des Ordres du Roi. The number of the knights hath been different, but is now fixed to ONE HUNDRED, exclusive of the sovereign. There, are many officers who wear the riband of this Order, like the other knights; and what is very singular is, that these officers frequently sell their employments, but obtain leave to wear the blue riband still, though the purchasers of those offices wear it also.
I'm really glad you went to Versailles to see the ceremony for naming the Prince de Conde as 'Chevalier de l’Ordre'; and I have no doubt that on this occasion you learned all about the institution and rules of that order. If you did, you were probably told that it was established by Henry III right after his return, or rather his escape, from Poland. He got the idea in Venice, where he saw the original manuscript of an order called 'St. Esprit, ou droit desir', which was created in 1352 by Louis d’Anjou, King of Jerusalem and Sicily, and husband to Jane, Queen of Naples and Countess of Provence. This Order was under the protection of St. Nicholas de Bari, whose image hung from its collar. Henry III discovered that the Order of St. Michael had been misused and diminished during the civil wars, so he merged it with his new Order of the St. Esprit, granting them both together; hence, every knight of the St. Esprit is now called Chevalier des Ordres du Roi. The number of knights has varied, but it is currently set at ONE HUNDRED, not including the sovereign. There are many officers who wear the ribbon of this Order, just like the other knights; and what's very unusual is that these officers often sell their positions but still get permission to wear the blue ribbon, even though the buyers of those offices wear it too.
As you will have been a great while in France, people will expect that you should be ‘au fait’ of all these sort of things relative to that country. But the history of all the Orders of all countries is well worth your knowledge; the subject occurs often, and one should not be ignorant of it, for fear of some such accident as happened to a solid Dane at Paris, who, upon seeing ‘L’Ordre du St. Esprit’, said, ‘Notre St. Esprit chez nous c’est un Elephant’. Almost all the princes in Germany have their Orders too; not dated, indeed, from any important events, or directed to any great object, but because they will have orders, to show that they may; as some of them, who have the ‘jus cudendae monetae’, borrow ten shillings worth of gold to coin a ducat. However, wherever you meet with them, inform yourself, and minute down a short account of them; they take in all the colors of Sir Isaac Newton’s prisms. N. B: When you inquire about them, do not seem to laugh.
Since you've been in France for quite a while, people will expect you to be familiar with all these aspects related to the country. However, understanding the history of all the Orders in various countries is definitely worth your time; the topic comes up often, and it’s important to be knowledgeable about it to avoid situations like what happened to a straightforward Dane in Paris, who, upon seeing ‘L’Ordre du St. Esprit’, remarked, ‘Our St. Esprit at home is an elephant.’ Most of the princes in Germany have their own Orders too; not necessarily tied to any significant events or aimed at any grand purpose, but simply because they want Orders to demonstrate that they can. It’s like some of them, who have the right to mint money, borrow ten shillings worth of gold just to create a ducat. Nonetheless, wherever you encounter these Orders, make sure to learn about them and jot down a brief account; they encompass all the colors of Sir Isaac Newton’s prisms. P.S.: When you ask about them, try not to laugh.
I thank you for le Mandement de Monseigneur l’Archeveyue; it is very well drawn, and becoming an archbishop. But pray do not lose sight of a much more important object, I mean the political disputes between the King and the parliament, and the King and the clergy; they seem both to be patching up; but, however, get the whole clue to them, as far as they have gone.
I appreciate the letter from the Archbishop; it's very well written and fitting for an archbishop. But please don't forget about a much more crucial issue, which is the political disputes between the King and the parliament, as well as between the King and the clergy; it seems they're both trying to resolve things. However, make sure you understand the entire situation as far as it has developed.
I received a letter yesterday from Madame Monconseil, who assures me you have gained ground ‘du cote des maniires’, and that she looks upon you to be ‘plus qu’a moitie chemin’. I am very glad to hear this, because, if you are got above half way of your journey, surely you will finish it, and not faint in the course. Why do you think I have this affair so extremely at heart, and why do I repeat it so often? Is it for your sake, or for mine? You can immediately answer yourself that question; you certainly have—I cannot possibly have any interest in it. If then you will allow me, as I believe you may, to be a judge of what is useful and necessary to you, you must, in consequence, be convinced of the infinite importance of a point which I take so much pains to inculcate.
I got a letter yesterday from Madame Monconseil, who assures me you're making progress “on the manners front,” and that she believes you’re “more than halfway there.” I’m really happy to hear this because if you’ve come this far in your journey, you’ll surely finish it and won’t give up along the way. Why do you think I care so much about this, and why do I keep bringing it up? Is it for your benefit or mine? You can easily answer that yourself; you know I have no personal stake in it. So, if you’ll let me, as I believe you might, be a judge of what’s useful and necessary for you, you must recognize how incredibly important this point is that I’m making such an effort to communicate.
I hear that the new Duke of Orleans ‘a remercie Monsieur de Melfort, and I believe, ‘pas sans raison’, having had obligations to him; ‘mais il ne l’a pas remercie en mari poli’, but rather roughly. Il faut que ce soit un bourru’. I am told, too, that people get bits of his father’s rags, by way of relies; I wish them joy, they will do them a great deal of good. See from hence what weaknesses human nature is capable of, and make allowances for such in all your plans and reasonings. Study the characters of the people you have to do with, and know what they are, instead of thinking them what they should be; address yourself generally to the senses, to the heart, and to the weaknesses of mankind, but very rarely to their reason.
I hear that the new Duke of Orleans thanks Monsieur de Melfort, and I think, 'not without reason,' since he owes him some favors; 'but he didn't thank him in a polite manner,' rather quite roughly. He must be a bit of a grump. I've also been told that people are getting scraps of his father's clothes as keepsakes; good luck to them, they'll get plenty of use out of them. From this, see how weak human nature can be and be lenient about it in all your plans and reasoning. Study the personalities of the people you deal with and understand who they really are, instead of assuming they are what they ought to be; generally appeal to the senses, the heart, and the weaknesses of humanity, but very rarely to their reason.
Good-night or good-morrow to you, according to the time you shall receive this letter from, Yours.
Good night or good morning to you, depending on when you receive this letter from me. Yours.
LETTER CLIX
LONDON, February 14, O. S. 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: In a month’s time, I believe I shall have the pleasure of sending you, and you will have the pleasure of reading, a work of Lord Bolingbroke’s, in two volumes octavo, “Upon the Use of History,” in several letters to Lord Hyde, then Lord Cornbury. It is now put into the press. It is hard to determine whether this work will instruct or please most: the most material historical facts, from the great era of the treaty of Munster, are touched upon, accompanied by the most solid reflections, and adorned by all that elegance of style which was peculiar to himself, and in which, if Cicero equals, he certainly does not exceed him; but every other writer falls short of him. I would advise you almost to get this book by heart. I think you have a turn to history, you love it, and have a memory to retain it: this book will teach you the proper use of it. Some people load their memories indiscriminately with historical facts, as others do their stomachs with food; and bring out the one, and bring up the other, entirely crude and undigested. You will find in Lord Bolingbroke’s book an infallible specific against that epidemical complaint.—[It is important to remember that at this time Lord Bolingbroke’s philosophical works had not appeared; which accounts for Lord Chesterfield’s recommending to his son, in this, as well as in some foregoing passages, the study of Lord Bolingbroke’s writings.]
MY DEAR FRIEND: In a month, I believe I’ll have the pleasure of sending you a work by Lord Bolingbroke in two volumes, titled “On the Use of History,” written in several letters to Lord Hyde, who later became Lord Cornbury. It's currently being printed. It's tough to say whether this work will be more instructive or enjoyable: it covers significant historical facts from the important era of the Treaty of Munster, along with solid reflections, all presented in the elegant style he was known for, which, while Cicero may match, no other writer comes close to. I suggest you almost memorize this book. I think you have a knack for history; you love it and have a good memory for it: this book will show you how to use it well. Some people stuff their minds with historical facts indiscriminately, much like others overstuff their stomachs with food, resulting in crude and undigested knowledge. You’ll find in Lord Bolingbroke’s book a perfect remedy for that common issue.—[It’s important to note that at this time, Lord Bolingbroke’s philosophical works had not yet been published, which explains why Lord Chesterfield recommended his writings to his son here and in earlier passages.]
I remember a gentleman who had read history in this thoughtless and undistinguishing manner, and who, having traveled, had gone through the Valtelline. He told me that it was a miserable poor country, and therefore it was, surely, a great error in Cardinal Richelieu to make such a rout, and put France to so much expense about it. Had my friend read history as he ought to have done, he would have known that the great object of that great minister was to reduce the power of the House of Austria; and in order to that, to cut off as much as he could the communication between the several parts of their then extensive dominions; which reflections would have justified the Cardinal to him, in the affair of the Valtelline. But it was easier to him to remember facts, than to combine and reflect.
I remember a guy who had studied history in a careless and uncritical way, and who, after traveling, went through the Valtelline. He said it was a really poor country, and that it was definitely a big mistake for Cardinal Richelieu to make such a fuss and put France to so much expense over it. If my friend had read history properly, he would have understood that the main goal of that great minister was to reduce the power of the House of Austria; and to do that, he needed to cut off as much communication as he could between the different parts of their extensive territories at that time. Those insights would have justified the Cardinal’s actions in the Valtelline in his eyes. But it was easier for him to just remember facts than to think critically and reflect.
One observation I hope you will make in reading history; for it is an obvious and a true one. It is, that more people have made great figures and great fortunes in courts by their exterior accomplishments, than by their interior qualifications. Their engaging address, the politeness of their manners, their air, their turn, hath almost always paved the way for their superior abilities, if they have such, to exert themselves. They have been favorites before they have been ministers. In courts, an universal gentleness and ‘douceur dans les manieres’ is most absolutely necessary: an offended fool, or a slighted valet de chambre, may very possibly do you more hurt at court, than ten men of merit can do you good. Fools, and low people, are always jealous of their dignity, and never forget nor forgive what they reckon a slight: on the other hand, they take civility and a little attention as a favor; remember, and acknowledge it: this, in my mind, is buying them cheap; and therefore they are worth buying. The prince himself, who is rarely the shining genius of his court, esteems you only by hearsay but likes you by his senses; that is, from your air, your politeness, and your manner of addressing him, of which alone he is a judge. There is a court garment, as well as a wedding garment, without which you will not be received. That garment is the ‘volto sciolto’; an imposing air, an elegant politeness, easy and engaging manners, universal attention, an insinuating gentleness, and all those ‘je ne sais quoi’ that compose the GRACES.
One thing I hope you'll notice while reading history is quite obvious and true. More people have made significant impacts and amassed great wealth in courts through their outward accomplishments rather than their inner qualities. Their charming demeanor, polite manners, presence, and style have usually paved the way for their greater abilities, if they possess any, to be recognized. They've often been favorites before becoming ministers. In courts, a general gentleness and refined manners are absolutely essential: an offended fool or a slighted servant can potentially cause you more trouble than ten talented individuals can help you. Fools and lesser people are always protective of their dignity and never forget or forgive what they perceive as a slight; conversely, they view civility and a bit of attention as favors, remember it, and appreciate it. To me, this is a low-cost investment, and so they are worth investing in. The prince himself, who is rarely the standout talent at his court, forms his opinion about you based on hearsay but judges you by your presence, politeness, and how you address him; he solely relies on these impressions. There’s a court dress, just like a wedding outfit, without which you won’t be accepted. That outfit is having a relaxed but impressive demeanor, polite elegance, friendly and engaging manners, attentive respect, an approachable gentleness, and all those indescribable qualities that make up the GRACES.
I am this moment disagreeably interrupted by a letter; not from you, as I expected, but from a friend of yours at Paris, who informs me that you have a fever which confines you at home. Since you have a fever, I am glad you have prudence enough in it to stay at home, and take care of yourself; a little more prudence might probably have prevented it. Your blood is young, and consequently hot; and you naturally make a great deal by your good stomach and good digestion; you should, therefore, necessarily attenuate and cool it, from time to time, by gentle purges, or by a very low diet, for two or three days together, if you would avoid fevers. Lord Bacon, who was a very great physician in both senses of the word, hath this aphorism in his “Essay upon Health,” ‘Nihil magis ad Sanitatem tribuit quam crebrae et domesticae purgationes’. By ‘domesticae’, he means those simple uncompounded purgatives which everybody can administer to themselves; such as senna-tea, stewed prunes and senria, chewing a little rhubarb, or dissolving an ounce and a half of manna in fair water, with the juice of a lemon to make it palatable. Such gentle and unconfining evacuations would certainly prevent those feverish attacks to which everybody at your age is subject.
I’ve just been disturbed by a letter; not from you as I expected, but from a friend of yours in Paris, who tells me that you have a fever keeping you at home. Since you’re dealing with a fever, I’m glad you’re smart enough to stay home and take care of yourself; a little more caution might have actually helped prevent it. Your blood is young and naturally hot, and you tend to be quite healthy with your good appetite and digestion; so you should definitely try to cool things down occasionally with gentle cleanses or a very light diet for a couple of days if you want to avoid fevers. Lord Bacon, who was a brilliant physician in every sense, has this saying in his “Essay on Health,” ‘Nihil magis ad Sanitatem tribuit quam crebrae et domesticae purgationes.’ By ‘domesticae,’ he refers to those simple, uncomplicated purges that anyone can use, like senna tea, stewed prunes, a bit of rhubarb, or dissolving an ounce and a half of manna in plain water, adding some lemon juice to make it taste better. These gentle and easy cleanses would definitely help prevent those feverish episodes that everyone your age is prone to.
By the way, I do desire, and insist, that whenever, from any indisposition, you are not able to write to me upon the fixed days, that Christian shall; and give me a TRUE account how you are. I do not expect from him the Ciceronian epistolary style; but I will content myself with the Swiss simplicity and truth.
By the way, I really want and insist that whenever you’re unable to write to me on the scheduled days due to any illness, Christian should do it; and he should give me an honest report on how you’re doing. I don’t expect him to write with the style of Cicero, but I’ll be satisfied with straightforward Swiss honesty.
I hope you extend your acquaintance at Paris, and frequent variety of companies; the only way of knowing the world; every set of company differs in some particulars from another; and a man of business must, in the course of his life, have to do with all sorts. It is a very great advantage to know the languages of the several countries one travels in; and different companies may, in some degree, be considered as different countries; each hath its distinctive language, customs, and manners: know them all, and you will wonder at none.
I hope you expand your social circle in Paris and enjoy a variety of company; it's the best way to understand the world. Every group of people is different in some way from another, and someone in business will encounter all kinds during their life. It's a huge advantage to know the languages of the countries you visit; different groups can be seen as different countries, each with its unique language, customs, and ways of behaving. Know them all, and you won’t be surprised by anything.
Adieu, child. Take care of your health; there are no pleasures without it.
Goodbye, kid. Take care of yourself; you can't enjoy anything without good health.
LETTER CLX
LONDON, February 20, O. S. 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: In all systems whatsoever, whether of religion, government, morals, etc., perfection is the object always proposed, though possibly unattainable; hitherto, at least, certainly unattained. However, those who aim carefully at the mark itself, will unquestionably come nearer it, than those who from despair, negligence, or indolence, leave to chance the work of skill. This maxim holds equally true in common life; those who aim at perfection will come infinitely nearer it than those desponding or indolent spirits, who foolishly say to themselves: Nobody is perfect; perfection is unattainable; to attempt it is chimerical; I shall do as well as others; why then should I give myself trouble to be what I never can, and what, according to the common course of things, I need not be, PERFECT?
MY DEAR FRIEND: In every system, whether it's religion, government, morals, etc., the goal is always perfection, even if it might be impossible to achieve; so far, at least, it definitely hasn't been reached. However, those who aim carefully at that target will definitely get closer to it than those who, out of despair, carelessness, or laziness, leave the outcome to chance. This principle applies just as much in everyday life; those who strive for perfection will get much closer to it than those despondent or lazy people who foolishly tell themselves: Nobody is perfect; perfection can't be achieved; trying for it is unrealistic; I'll just do as well as everyone else; so why should I bother trying to be something I can never be, and what, according to the usual way of things, I don't even need to be, PERFECT?
I am very sure that I need not point out to you the weakness and the folly of this reasoning, if it deserves the name of reasoning. It would discourage and put a stop to the exertion of any one of our faculties. On the contrary, a man of sense and spirit says to himself: Though the point of perfection may (considering the imperfection of our nature) be unattainable, my care, my endeavors, my attention, shall not be wanting to get as near it as I can. I will approach it every day, possibly, I may arrive at it at last; at least, what I am sure is in my own power, I will not be distanced. Many fools (speaking of you) say to me: What! would you have him perfect? I answer: Why not? What hurt would it do him or me? O, but that is impossible, say they; I reply, I am not sure of that: perfection in the abstract, I admit to be unattainable, but what is commonly called perfection in a character I maintain to be attainable, and not only that, but in every man’s power. He hath, continue they, a good head, a good heart, a good fund of knowledge, which would increase daily: What would you have more? Why, I would have everything more that can adorn and complete a character. Will it do his head, his heart, or his knowledge any harm, to have the utmost delicacy of manners, the most shining advantages of air and address, the most endearing attentions, and the most engaging graces? But as he is, say they, he is loved wherever he is known. I am very glad of it, say I; but I would have him be liked before he is known, and loved afterward. I would have him, by his first abord and address, make people wish to know him, and inclined to love him: he will save a great deal of time by it. Indeed, reply they, you are too nice, too exact, and lay too much stress upon things that are of very little consequence. Indeed, rejoin I, you know very little of the nature of mankind, if you take those things to be of little consequence: one cannot be too attentive to them; it is they that always engage the heart, of which the understanding is commonly the bubble. And I would much rather that he erred in a point of grammar, of history, of philosophy, etc., than in point of manners and address. But consider, he is very young; all this will come in time. I hope so; but that time must be when he is young, or it will never be at all; the right ‘pli’ must be taken young, or it will never be easy or seem natural. Come, come, say they (substituting, as is frequently done, assertion instead of argument), depend upon it he will do very well: and you have a great deal of reason to be satisfied with him. I hope and believe he will do well, but I would have him do better than well. I am very well pleased with him, but I would be more, I would be proud of him. I would have him have lustre as well as weight. Did you ever know anybody that reunited all these talents? Yes, I did; Lord Bolingbroke joined all the politeness, the manners, and the graces of a courtier, to the solidity of a statesman, and to the learning of a pedant. He was ‘omnis homo’; and pray what should hinder my boy from being so too, if he ‘hath, as I think he hath, all the other qualifications that you allow him? Nothing can hinder him, but neglect of or inattention to, those objects which his own good sense must tell him are, of infinite consequence to him, and which therefore I will not suppose him capable of either neglecting or despising.
I’m sure I don’t need to point out the weakness and foolishness of this reasoning, if it even deserves to be called that. It would discourage anyone from using any of our abilities. On the other hand, a sensible and spirited person reminds themselves: Although the ultimate perfection may—given our flawed nature—be unreachable, my effort, my dedication, and my focus won’t be lacking in getting as close as I can. I'll move towards it every day; perhaps I will eventually achieve it. At the very least, I will not fall short of what is within my control. Many fools (referring to you) say to me: What! Do you want him to be perfect? I respond: Why not? What harm would it bring to him or me? Oh, but that’s impossible, they say; I reply, I’m not so sure of that: I admit that perfection in the abstract is unattainable, but what is commonly referred to as perfection in character is achievable and, more importantly, within everyone’s capacity. They continue: He has a good mind, a good heart, and a solid base of knowledge, which grows daily: What more do you want? Well, I want everything that can enrich and complete a character. Would it hurt his mind, heart, or knowledge to have the utmost finesse in manners, the most noticeable charm in presence and conversation, the most affectionate attentions, and the most appealing qualities? But as he is now, they say, he is loved wherever he’s known. I’m very happy about that, I say; but I want him to be liked before he is known, and loved afterward. I want his first appearance and manner to make people eager to know him and inclined to love him: that would save a lot of time. Indeed, they respond, you are being too particular, too precise, and placing too much importance on things that matter little. Actually, I counter, you understand very little about human nature if you think those things are insignificant: you cannot pay too much attention to them; it is those things that truly capture the heart, of which the mind is usually just a surface distraction. I would much prefer that he makes a mistake in grammar, history, philosophy, etc., than in manners and approach. But consider, he is very young; all of this will develop over time. I hope so, but that time needs to happen while he’s still young, or it will never happen at all; the right shape must be taken in youth, or it will never feel easy or natural. Come on, come on, they say (often making assertions instead of arguments), trust me, he will do just fine: and you have plenty of reason to be pleased with him. I hope and believe he will do well, but I want him to do even better than just well. I’m pleased with him, but I want to be even more so; I want to be proud of him. I want him to have brilliance as well as substance. Did you ever meet anyone who combined all these talents? Yes, I have; Lord Bolingbroke combined all the elegance, manners, and charm of a courtier with the strength of a statesman and the knowledge of a scholar. He was ‘the whole man’; and tell me, what should stop my boy from being the same, if he has, as I believe he does, all the other qualities you acknowledge? The only thing that could hold him back is neglecting or ignoring those areas that his own good sense would recognize are incredibly important to him, and I refuse to believe he is capable of either neglecting or despising.
This (to tell you the whole truth) is the result of a controversy that passed yesterday, between Lady Hervey and myself, upon your subject, and almost in the very words. I submit the decision of it to yourself; let your own good sense determine it, and make you act in consequence of that determination. The receipt to make this composition is short and infallible; here I give it to you:
This is the result of a debate that happened yesterday between Lady Hervey and me about you, and almost in the exact words. I leave the final decision to you; let your own good judgment guide you and lead you to act based on that decision. The recipe to create this composition is simple and foolproof; here it is:
Take variety of the best company, wherever you are; be minutely attentive to every word and action; imitate respectively those whom you observe to be distinguished and considered for any one accomplishment; then mix all those several accomplishments together, and serve them up yourself to others.
Surround yourself with a diverse group of the best people, no matter where you are; pay close attention to everything they say and do; respectfully imitate those you see as remarkable for any specific skill; then combine all those different skills and share them with others.
I hope your fair, or rather your brown AMERICAN is well. I hear that she makes very handsome presents, if she is not so herself. I am told there are people at Paris who expect, from this secret connection, to see in time a volume of letters, superior to Madame de Graffiny’s Peruvian ones; I lay in my claim to one of the first copies.
I hope your lovely, or rather your brown AMERICAN is doing well. I've heard that she gives very nice gifts, even if she isn't particularly charming herself. I've been told there are people in Paris who anticipate that, due to this secret connection, there will eventually be a collection of letters that's even better than Madame de Graffiny's Peruvian ones; I want to make sure I get one of the first copies.
Francis’s Genie—[Francis’s “Eugenia.”]—hath been acted twice, with most universal applause; to-night is his third night, and I am going to it. I did not think it would have succeeded so well, considering how long our British audiences have been accustomed to murder, racks, and poison, in every tragedy; but it affected the heart so much, that it triumphed over habit and prejudice. All the women cried, and all the men were moved. The prologue, which is a very good one, was made entirely by Garrick. The epilogue is old Cibber’s; but corrected, though not enough, by Francis. He will get a great deal of, money by it; and, consequently, be better able to lend you sixpence, upon any emergency.
Francis’s Genie—[Francis’s “Eugenia.”]—has been performed twice, with overwhelming applause; tonight is its third night, and I’m going to see it. I didn’t think it would do so well, considering how long our British audiences have been used to murders, torture, and poison in every tragedy; but it touched the heart so much that it overcame habits and biases. All the women cried, and all the men were moved. The prologue, which is really good, was entirely written by Garrick. The epilogue is from old Cibber; but it’s been edited, although not enough, by Francis. He’s going to make a lot of money from it; and, as a result, he’ll be better able to lend you sixpence in case of an emergency.
The parliament of Paris, I find by the newspapers, has not carried its point concerning the hospitals, and, though the King hath given up the Archbishop, yet as he has put them under the management and direction ‘du Grand Conseil’, the parliament is equally out of the question. This will naturally put you upon inquiring into the constitution of the ‘Grand Conseil’. You will, doubtless, inform yourself who it is composed of, what things are ‘de son ressort’, whether or not there lies an appeal from thence to any other place; and of all other particulars, that may give you a clear notion of this assembly. There are also three or four other Conseils in France, of which you ought to know the constitution and the objects; I dare say you do know them already; but if you do not, lose no time in informing yourself. These things, as I have often told you, are best learned in various French companies: but in no English ones, for none of our countrymen trouble their heads about them. To use a very trite image, collect, like the bee, your store from every quarter. In some companies (‘parmi les fermiers generaux nommement’) you may, by proper inquiries, get a general knowledge, at least, of ‘les affaires des finances’. When you are with ‘des gens de robe’, suck them with regard to the constitution, and civil government, and ‘sic de caeteris’. This shows you the advantage of keeping a great deal of different French company; an advantage much superior to any that you can possibly receive from loitering and sauntering away evenings in any English company at Paris, not even excepting Lord A———. Love of ease, and fear of restraint (to both which I doubt you are, for a young fellow, too much addicted) may invite you among your countrymen: but pray withstand those mean temptations, ‘et prenez sur vous’, for the sake of being in those assemblies, which alone can inform your mind and improve your manners. You have not now many months to continue at Paris; make the most of them; get into every house there, if you can; extend acquaintance, know everything and everybody there; that when you leave it for other places, you may be ‘au fait’, and even able to explain whatever you may hear mentioned concerning it. Adieu.
The Paris parliament, as I read in the newspapers, didn’t succeed in its efforts regarding the hospitals, and although the King has given up on the Archbishop, since they've placed them under the management of the ‘Grand Conseil’, the parliament is still out of the picture. This will naturally lead you to ask about the structure of the ‘Grand Conseil’. You’ll want to find out who is part of it, what their responsibilities are, whether appeals can be made from it to anywhere else, and any other details that might give you a clear understanding of this assembly. There are also three or four other councils in France that you should learn about regarding their structure and purposes; I’m sure you know some of this already, but if not, don’t waste any time getting informed. As I’ve often told you, these things are best learned in various French circles, but not in English ones, since our countrymen don’t think about them. To use a common metaphor, gather your knowledge like a bee collects nectar from every source. In some groups (especially among the farmers-general), you can gain a general understanding of ‘les affaires des finances’ through thoughtful questions. When you’re with ‘des gens de robe’, pick their brains about the constitution, civil government, and other relevant topics. This illustrates the benefit of mingling with diverse French social circles, a benefit far greater than anything you might get from hanging out in English company in Paris, not even including Lord A———. Your love of comfort and fear of being restrained (to which I suspect you’re rather prone for someone your age) may draw you to your countrymen, but please resist those superficial temptations and make an effort to be part of gatherings that will truly expand your mind and enhance your manners. You don’t have many months left in Paris; make the most of them. Get into every house you can; widen your circle, learn everything and know everyone there, so that when you leave for other places, you’ll be well-informed and capable of discussing whatever comes up regarding it. Adieu.
LETTER CLXI
LONDON, March 2, O. S. 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Whereabouts are you in Ariosto? Or have you gone through that most ingenious contexture of truth and lies, of serious and extravagant, of knights-errant, magicians, and all that various matter which he announces in the beginning of his poem:
MY DEAR FRIEND: Where are you in Ariosto? Or have you made it through that brilliant mix of truth and lies, serious and outrageous, of knights-errant, magicians, and all the other varied topics he introduces at the start of his poem:
Le Donne, I Cavalier, l’arme, gli amori,
Le cortesie, l’audaci impreso io canto.
The women, the knights, the arms, the loves,
The courtesies, the bold deeds, I sing. I am by no means sure that Homer had superior invention, or excelled more in description than Ariosto. What can be more seducing and voluptuous, than the description of Alcina’s person and palace? What more ingeniously extravagant, than the search made in the moon for Orlando’s lost wits, and the account of other people’s that were found there? The whole is worth your attention, not only as an ingenious poem, but as the source of all modern tales, novels, fables, and romances; as Ovid’s “Metamorphoses;” was of the ancient ones; besides, that when you have read this work, nothing will be difficult to you in the Italian language. You will read Tasso’s ‘Gierusalemme’, and the ‘Decamerone di Boccacio’, with great facility afterward; and when you have read those three authors, you will, in my opinion, have read all the works of invention that are worth reading in that language; though the Italians would be very angry at me for saying so.
I’m not entirely convinced that Homer was more inventive or better at description than Ariosto. What could be more enticing and luxurious than the way Alcina and her palace are described? What’s more cleverly over-the-top than the search for Orlando’s lost sanity on the moon, and the stories of others that were discovered there? This entire work deserves your attention, not only because it's a clever poem but also because it’s the foundation of all modern stories, novels, fables, and romances—just as Ovid’s "Metamorphoses" was for the ancient ones. Plus, once you’ve read this work, you’ll find nothing difficult in the Italian language. You’ll easily get through Tasso’s "Gierusalemme" and Boccaccio’s "Decamerone" afterward. In my opinion, after reading those three authors, you’ll have covered all the inventive works worth reading in that language, even though the Italians might be quite upset with me for saying that.
A gentleman should know those which I call classical works, in every language; such as Boileau, Corneille, Racine, Moliere, etc., in French; Milton, Dryden, Pope, Swift, etc., in English; and the three authors above mentioned in Italian; whether you have any such in German I am not quite sure, nor, indeed, am I inquisitive. These sort of books adorn the mind, improve the fancy, are frequently alluded to by, and are often the subjects of conversations of the best companies. As you have languages to read, and memory to retain them, the knowledge of them is very well worth the little pains it will cost you, and will enable you to shine in company. It is not pedantic to quote and allude to them, which it would be with regard to the ancients.
A gentleman should be familiar with what I consider classical works in every language, such as Boileau, Corneille, Racine, Moliere, and others in French; Milton, Dryden, Pope, Swift, and so on in English; and the three authors I mentioned before in Italian. I'm not really sure if there are any notable works in German, and honestly, I'm not that curious about it. These kinds of books enrich the mind, spark creativity, and are often referenced in conversations among the best company. Since you have the ability to read and remember languages, knowing these works is definitely worth the little effort it takes and will help you stand out in social settings. It's not pretentious to quote or reference them, unlike with ancient texts.
Among the many advantages which you have had in your education, I do not consider your knowledge of several languages as the least. You need not trust to translations; you can go to the source; you can both converse and negotiate with people of all nations, upon equal terms; which is by no means the case of a man, who converses or negotiates in a language which those with whom he hath to do know much better than himself. In business, a great deal may depend upon the force and extent of one word; and, in conversation, a moderate thought may gain, or a good one lose, by the propriety or impropriety, the elegance or inelegance of one single word. As therefore you now know four modern languages well, I would have you study (and, by the way, it will be very little trouble to you) to know them correctly, accurately, and delicately. Read some little books that treat of them, and ask questions concerning their delicacies, of those who are able to answer you. As, for instance, should I say in French, ‘la lettre que je vous ai ECRIT’, or, ‘la lettre que je vous ai ECRITE’? in which, I think, the French differ among themselves. There is a short French grammar by the Port Royal, and another by Pere Buffier, both which are worth your reading; as is also a little book called ‘Les Synonymes Francois. There are books of that kind upon the Italian language, into some of which I would advise you to dip; possibly the German language may have something of the same sort, and since you already speak it, the more properly you speak it the better; one would, I think, as far as possible, do all one does correctly and elegantly. It is extremely engaging to people of every nation, to meet with a foreigner who hath taken pains enough to speak their language correctly; it flatters that local and national pride and prejudice of which everybody hath some share.
Among the many advantages you've gained in your education, I think your ability to speak several languages is one of the most significant. You don’t have to rely on translations; you can go directly to the source. You can engage and negotiate with people from all over the world on equal footing, which isn’t the case for someone who speaks a language that those they are communicating with know much better. In business, the impact of a single word can be huge, and in conversation, even a moderate idea can succeed or a good one can fail based on the appropriateness or quality of just one word. Since you now know four modern languages well, I encourage you to make an effort (and it won’t be much trouble for you) to use them correctly, accurately, and with finesse. Read some short books that cover these languages and ask questions about the nuances from those who can help you. For example, should I say in French, ‘la lettre que je vous ai ECRIT’ or ‘la lettre que je vous ai ECRITE’? There seems to be some debate among the French on this. There's a concise French grammar by Port Royal, and another by Father Buffier, both of which are worth your time; there's also a little book called ‘Les Synonymes Francois’. There are similar resources for Italian, which I recommend you check out; German may have something similar too, and since you already speak it, the better you speak it, the more effective you'll be. I believe it’s important to do everything as correctly and elegantly as possible. People from every nation are quite impressed when they meet a foreigner who has made the effort to speak their language well; it appeals to the local and national pride that everyone has to some degree.
Francis’s “Eugenia,” which I will send you, pleased most people of good taste here; the boxes were crowded till the sixth night, when the pit and gallery were totally deserted, and it was dropped. Distress, without death, was not sufficient to affect a true British audience, so long accustomed to daggers, racks, and bowls of poison: contrary to Horace’s rule, they desire to see Medea murder her children upon the stage. The sentiments were too delicate to move them; and their hearts are to be taken by storm, not by parley.
Francis's "Eugenia," which I'll send you, was well-received by most people with good taste here; the seats were packed until the sixth night, when the pit and gallery were completely empty, and it was pulled from the schedule. Distress, without death, didn't have much of an impact on a true British audience, so used to daggers, torture devices, and poison: contrary to Horace's rule, they want to see Medea kill her children on stage. The emotions were too subtle to move them; their hearts need to be won over by force, not through gentle conversation.
Have you got the things, which were taken from you at Calais, restored? and, among them, the little packet which my sister gave you for Sir Charles Hotham? In this case, have you forwarded it to him? If you have not had an opportunity, you will have one soon; which I desire you will not omit; it is by Monsieur d’Aillion, whom you will see in a few days at Paris, in his way to Geneva, where Sir Charles now is, and will remain some time. Adieu:
Have you gotten back the things that were taken from you at Calais? And among them, the small package my sister gave you for Sir Charles Hotham? If so, have you sent it to him? If you haven’t had a chance yet, you’ll have one soon; please make sure you don’t miss it. It’s with Monsieur d’Aillion, whom you’ll see in a few days in Paris on his way to Geneva, where Sir Charles is now and will be for a while. Goodbye:
LETTER CLXII
LONDON, March 5, O. S. 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: As I have received no letter from you by the usual post, I am uneasy upon account of your health; for, had you been well, I am sure you would have written, according to your engagement and my requisition. You have not the least notion of any care of your health; but though I would not have you be a valetudinarian, I must tell you that the best and most robust health requires some degree of attention to preserve. Young fellows, thinking they have so much health and time before them, are very apt to neglect or lavish both, and beggar themselves before they are aware: whereas a prudent economy in both would make them rich indeed; and so far from breaking in upon their pleasures, would improve, and almost perpetuate them. Be you wiser, and, before it is too late, manage both with care and frugality; and lay out neither, but upon good interest and security.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Since I haven’t received a letter from you through the usual mail, I’m worried about your health; if you were well, I’m sure you would have written as you promised and as I asked. You really don’t seem to care about your health at all, but while I wouldn’t want you to be an invalid, I have to say that maintaining good and strong health requires some attention. Young people, thinking they have plenty of health and time, often neglect or waste both, and end up suffering before they even realize it; meanwhile, managing both wisely would make them truly wealthy, and not only wouldn’t it interfere with their enjoyment, but it would actually enhance it and prolong it. Be smarter, and before it’s too late, take care and manage both carefully and wisely, and spend neither without good reason and security.
I will now confine myself to the employment of your time, which, though I have often touched upon formerly, is a subject that, from its importance, will bear repetition. You have it is true, a great deal of time before you; but, in this period of your life, one hour usefully employed may be worth more than four-and-twenty hereafter; a minute is precious to you now, whole days may possibly not be so forty years hence. Whatever time you allow, or can snatch for serious reading (I say snatch, because company and the knowledge of the world is now your chief object), employ it in the reading of some one book, and that a good one, till you have finished it: and do not distract your mind with various matters at the same time. In this light I would recommend to you to read ‘tout de suite’ Grotius ‘de Jure Belli et Pacis’, translated by Barbeyrac, and Puffendorff’s ‘Jus Gentium’, translated by the same hand. For accidental quarters of hours, read works of invention, wit and humor, of the best, and not of trivial authors, either ancient or modern.
I'll focus on how you use your time, which I’ve mentioned before, but it’s important enough to repeat. While you have plenty of time ahead of you, in this part of your life, one hour spent wisely could be more valuable than a full day later on; a minute is precious to you now, while whole days might not be as significant forty years from now. Whenever you can find time for serious reading (and I say “find” because socializing and exploring the world are your main priorities right now), dedicate it to one good book until you finish it. Don’t let your mind get distracted by too many things at once. With that in mind, I recommend you read Grotius’ ‘On the Law of War and Peace,’ translated by Barbeyrac, and Puffendorf’s ‘Law of Nations,’ also translated by the same person. For spare moments, pick up works of creativity, wit, and humor from the best authors, avoiding the trivial ones, whether ancient or modern.
Whatever business you have, do it the first moment you can; never by halves, but finish it without interruption, if possible. Business must not be sauntered and trifled with; and you must not say to it, as Felix did to Paul, “At a more convenient season I will speak to thee.” The most convenient season for business is the first; but study and business in some measure point out their own times to a man of sense; time is much oftener squandered away in the wrong choice and improper methods of amusement and pleasures.
Whatever you need to do, tackle it as soon as you can; don’t do it halfway, but try to finish it without interruptions if possible. Business shouldn’t be approached casually or treated lightly, and you shouldn’t put it off like Felix did with Paul by saying, “I’ll talk to you at a better time.” The best time for business is always now, but a sensible person will recognize when the right moments for work and study arise; time is much more often wasted on poor choices and inappropriate distractions.
Many people think that they are in pleasures, provided they are neither in study nor in business. Nothing like it; they are doing nothing, and might just as well be asleep. They contract habitudes from laziness, and they only frequent those places where they are free from all restraints and attentions. Be upon your guard against this idle profusion of time; and let every place you go to be either the scene of quick and lively pleasures, or the school of your own improvements; let every company you go into either gratify your senses, extend your knowledge, or refine your manners. Have some decent object of gallantry in view at some places; frequent others, where people of wit and taste assemble; get into others, where people of superior rank and dignity command respect and attention from the rest of the company; but pray frequent no neutral places, from mere idleness and indolence. Nothing forms a young man so much as being used to keep respectable and superior company, where a constant regard and attention is necessary. It is true, this is at first a disagreeable state of restraint; but it soon grows habitual, and consequently easy; and you are amply paid for it, by the improvement you make, and the credit it gives you. What you said some time ago was very true, concerning ‘le Palais Royal’; to one of your age the situation is disagreeable enough: you cannot expect to be much taken notice of; but all that time you can take notice of others; observe their manners, decipher their characters, and insensibly you will become one of the company.
Many people believe they're enjoying themselves as long as they're not studying or working. That's not true; they're just wasting time and might as well be asleep. They develop habits out of laziness and only go to places where they’re free from any obligations or attention. Be careful of squandering your time like this; make sure every place you visit is either full of fun and excitement or helps you improve yourself. Every group you join should either please your senses, broaden your knowledge, or help you refine your manners. Have a respectable romantic interest in mind when you're at certain venues; visit others where smart and cultured people gather; go to places where individuals of higher status command respect and attention from the rest of the crowd; but please, avoid neutral places just out of boredom or laziness. Nothing shapes a young person more than being accustomed to respectable and superior company, where constant attention and respect are essential. It’s true that this can feel restrictive at first, but it quickly becomes second nature and easy; you’ll be rewarded with personal growth and the respect it earns you. What you mentioned earlier about ‘le Palais Royal’ is very accurate; for someone your age, the atmosphere can be quite uncomfortable: you can’t expect to get much attention. However, during that time, you can pay attention to others; observe their behavior, figure out their personalities, and gradually you’ll become part of the group.
All this I went through myself, when I was of your age. I have sat hours in company without being taken the least notice of; but then I took notice of them, and learned in their company how to behave myself better in the next, till by degrees I became part of the best companies myself. But I took great care not to lavish away my time in those companies where there were neither quick pleasures nor useful improvements to be expected.
I went through all of this myself when I was your age. I spent hours in company without anyone noticing me at all; but I observed them and learned how to conduct myself better in the next situation, until eventually, I became part of the best groups myself. However, I made sure not to waste my time in places where there were no fun or valuable learning opportunities to be had.
Sloth, indolence, and ‘mollesse’ are pernicious and unbecoming a young fellow; let them be your ‘ressource’ forty years hence at soonest. Determine, at all events, and however disagreeable it may to you in some respects, and for some time, to keep the most distinguished and fashionable company of the place you are at, either for their rank, or for their learning, or ‘le bel esprit et le gout’. This gives you credentials to the best companies, wherever you go afterward. Pray, therefore, no indolence, no laziness; but employ every minute in your life in active pleasures, or useful employments. Address yourself to some woman of fashion and beauty, wherever you are, and try how far that will go. If the place be not secured beforehand, and garrisoned, nine times in ten you will take it. By attentions and respect you may always get into the highest company: and by some admiration and applause, whether merited or not, you may be sure of being welcome among ‘les savans et les beaux esprits’. There are but these three sorts of company for a young fellow; there being neither pleasure nor profit in any other.
Laziness and idleness are harmful and unfit for a young man; save those traits for when you’re older, at least forty years from now. Make it a point, no matter how uncomfortable it may feel at times, to associate with the most distinguished and fashionable people around you, whether because of their status, knowledge, or style and taste. This earns you a reputation that opens doors to the best circles wherever you go later. So, avoid laziness; spend every moment of your life engaging in enjoyable activities or meaningful work. Approach a fashionable and attractive woman wherever you are and see how far that gets you. If the opportunity isn’t already taken, you’ll likely succeed. With attention and respect, you can always find your way into top social circles, and a bit of admiration, whether deserved or not, will ensure you’re welcomed among intellectuals and great minds. For a young man, those are the only three kinds of company worth pursuing; there’s no real pleasure or benefit in any others.
My uneasiness with regard to your health is this moment removed by your letter of the 8th N. S., which, by what accident I do not know, I did not receive before.
My concern about your health is now eased by your letter dated the 8th N. S., which, for some reason I don't understand, I didn't receive until now.
I long to read Voltaire’s ‘Rome Sauvee’, which, by the very faults that your SEVERE critics find with it, I am sure I shall like; for I will at an any time give up a good deal of regularity for a great deal of brillant; and for the brillant surely nobody is equal to Voltaire. Catiline’s conspiracy is an unhappy subject for a tragedy; it is too single, and gives no opportunity to the poet to excite any of the tender passions; the whole is one intended act of horror, Crebillon was sensible of this defect, and to create another interest, most absurdly made Catiline in love with Cicero’s daughter, and her with him.
I really want to read Voltaire’s ‘Rome Safeguarded’, which, despite the flaws that your HARSH critics highlight, I’m sure I’ll enjoy; because I’ll gladly trade a lot of structure for a lot of brilliance at any time; and for brilliance, no one can match Voltaire. Catiline’s conspiracy is not a great subject for a tragedy; it’s too straightforward and doesn’t give the poet a chance to stir any of the deeper emotions; it’s entirely one planned act of horror. Crebillon recognized this flaw and, in a rather absurd move, made Catiline in love with Cicero’s daughter, and her with him.
I am very glad that you went to Versailles, and dined with Monsieur de St. Contest. That is company to learn ‘les bonnes manieres’ in; and it seems you had ‘les bonnes morceaux’ into the bargain. Though you were no part of the King of France’s conversation with the foreign ministers, and probably not much entertained with it, do you think that it is not very useful to you to hear it, and to observe the turn and manners of people of that sort? It is extremely useful to know it well. The same in the next rank of people, such as ministers of state, etc., in whose company, though you cannot yet, at your age, bear a part, and consequently be diverted, you will observe and learn, what hereafter it may be necessary for you to act.
I'm really glad you went to Versailles and had dinner with Monsieur de St. Contest. That's a great opportunity to learn good manners, and it seems like you also got some good food out of it. Even though you weren't part of the King of France's conversation with the foreign ministers and probably didn't find it very entertaining, don't you think it's still really useful for you to hear it and watch how these people behave? Understanding that world is very beneficial. The same goes for the next level of people, like state ministers, where, at your age, you might not be able to engage in conversation yet and therefore might not find it entertaining, but you'll still be able to observe and learn what you might need to do in the future.
Tell Sir John Lambert that I have this day fixed Mr. Spencer’s having his credit upon him; Mr. Hoare had also recommended him. I believe Mr. Spencer will set out next month for some place in France, but not Paris. I am sure he wants a great deal of France, for at present he is most entirely English: and you know very well what I think of that. And so we bid you heartily good-night.
Tell Sir John Lambert that I have today confirmed Mr. Spencer's credit with him; Mr. Hoare also recommended him. I believe Mr. Spencer will leave next month for somewhere in France, but not Paris. I'm sure he wants to experience a lot of France, because right now he is completely English; and you know very well what I think about that. So, we wish you a heartfelt good night.
LETTER CLXIII
LONDON, March 16, O. S. 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: How do you go on with the most useful and most necessary of all studies, the study of the world? Do you find that you gain knowledge? And does your daily experience at once extend and demonstrate your improvement? You will possibly ask me how you can judge of that yourself. I will tell you a sure way of knowing. Examine yourself, and see whether your notions of the world are changed, by experience, from what they were two years ago in theory; for that alone is one favorable symptom of improvement. At that age (I remember it in myself) every notion that one forms is erroneous; one hath seen few models, and those none of the best, to form one’s self upon. One thinks that everything is to be carried by spirit and vigor; that art is meanness, and that versatility and complaisance are the refuge of pusilanimity and weakness. This most mistaken opinion gives an indelicacy, a ‘brusquerie’, and a roughness to the manners. Fools, who can never be undeceived, retain them as long as they live: reflection, with a little experience, makes men of sense shake them off soon. When they come to be a little better acquainted with themselves, and with their own species, they discover that plain right reason is, nine times in ten, the fettered and shackled attendant of the triumph of the heart and the passions; and, consequently, they address themselves nine times in ten to the conqueror, not to the conquered: and conquerors, you know, must be applied to in the gentlest, the most engaging, and the most insinuating manner. Have you found out that every woman is infallibly to be gained by every sort of flattery, and every man by one sort or other? Have you discovered what variety of little things affect the heart, and how surely they collectively gain it? If you have, you have made some progress. I would try a man’s knowledge of the world, as I would a schoolboy’s knowledge of Horace: not by making him construe ‘Maecenas atavis edite regibus’, which he could do in the first form; but by examining him as to the delicacy and ‘curiosa felicitas’ of that poet. A man requires very little knowledge and experience of the world, to understand glaring, high-colored, and decided characters; they are but few, and they strike at first: but to distinguish the almost imperceptible shades, and the nice gradations of virtue and vice, sense and folly, strength and weakness (of which characters are commonly composed), demands some experience, great observation, and minute attention. In the same cases, most people do the same things, but with this material difference, upon which the success commonly turns: A man who hath studied the world knows when to time, and where to place them; he hath analyzed the characters he applies to, and adapted his address and his arguments to them: but a man, of what is called plain good sense, who hath only reasoned by himself, and not acted with mankind, mistimes, misplaces, runs precipitately and bluntly at the mark, and falls upon his nose in the way. In the common manners of social life, every man of common sense hath the rudiments, the A B C of civility; he means not to offend, and even wishes to please: and, if he hath any real merit, will be received and tolerated in good company. But that is far from being enough; for, though he may be received, he will never be desired; though he does not offend, he will never be loved; but, like some little, insignificant, neutral power, surrounded by great ones, he will neither be feared nor courted by any; but, by turns, invaded by all, whenever it is their interest. A most contemptible situation! Whereas, a man who hath carefully attended to, and experienced, the various workings of the heart, and the artifices of the head; and who, by one shade, can trace the progression of the whole color; who can, at the proper times, employ all the several means of persuading the understanding, and engaging the heart, may and will have enemies; but will and must have friends: he may be opposed, but he will be supported too; his talents may excite the jealousy of some, but his engaging arts will make him beloved by many more; he will be considerable; he will be considered. Many different qualifications must conspire to form such a man, and to make him at once respectable and amiable; the least must be joined to the greatest; the latter would be unavailing without the former; and the former would be futile and frivolous, without the latter. Learning is acquired by reading books; but the much more necessary learning, the knowledge of the world, is only to be acquired by reading men, and studying all the various editions of them. Many words in every language are generally thought to be synonymous; but those who study the language attentively will find, that there is no such thing; they will discover some little difference, some distinction between all those words that are vulgarly called synonymous; one hath always more energy, extent, or delicacy, than another. It is the same with men; all are in general, and yet no two in particular, exactly alike. Those who have not accurately studied, perpetually mistake them; they do not discern the shades and gradations that distinguish characters seemingly alike. Company, various company, is the only school for this knowledge. You ought to be, by this time, at least in the third form of that school, from whence the rise to the uppermost is easy and quick; but then you must have application and vivacity; and you must not only bear with, but even seek restraint in most companies, instead of stagnating in one or two only, where indolence and love of ease may be indulged.
MY DEAR FRIEND: How are you progressing with the most useful and essential study of all, the study of the world? Do you feel like you’re gaining knowledge? And does your daily experience both extend and show your improvement? You might wonder how you can judge that for yourself. I'll give you a sure way to find out. Reflect on whether your views of the world have changed through experience compared to what they were two years ago in theory; that alone is a good indicator of progress. At that age (I remember it myself), every opinion you form is likely wrong; you've seen few examples, and those aren’t the best, to base yourself on. You think everything should rely on energy and passion; that skill is lowly, and that adaptability and agreeableness are signs of cowardice and weakness. This completely mistaken belief can lead to a lack of tact, abruptness, and roughness in behavior. Fools, who can never be convinced otherwise, hold onto these ideas for their entire lives; but self-reflection, combined with a little experience, allows sensible people to shake them off quickly. When they get to know themselves and others a bit better, they realize that plain common sense is, nine times out of ten, a constrained companion of the triumph of emotions and passions; therefore, they tend to appeal nine times out of ten to the victor, not the vanquished: and you know that conquerors must be approached in the gentlest, most appealing, and most charming way. Have you figured out that every woman can be won over by some form of flattery, and every man by one kind or another? Have you discovered what small things touch the heart and how easily they can win it? If so, you've made some headway. I would test a man’s knowledge of the world like I would a schoolboy’s understanding of Horace: not by making him translate ‘Maecenas atavis edite regibus’, which he could do by the first year; but by assessing his grasp of the subtleties and artistic finesse of that poet. A man needs very little knowledge and experience of the world to recognize evident, bold, and distinct characters; there are few of them, and they are striking at first glance. But to pick out the nearly invisible nuances and the subtle shades of virtue and vice, sense and folly, strength and weakness (which are what characters usually consist of) requires some experience, great observation, and careful attention. In similar situations, most people act in the same way, but there’s a crucial difference that usually determines success: A man who has studied the world knows when to act and where to place his actions; he has analyzed the characters he interacts with and adjusted his approach and his arguments accordingly. However, a man who is simply deemed to have common sense, who has only reasoned by himself and not interacted with the world, often misjudges timing, placement, and can bluntly rush at a target, falling flat on his face in the process. In the everyday social interactions, every man of common sense has the basics, the A B C of civility; he doesn’t mean to offend and even wants to please: and if he has any genuine merit, he will be accepted and tolerated in good company. But that’s far from enough; even if he’s accepted, he will never be sought after; even if he doesn’t offend, he will never be loved; he will be like some small, insignificant, neutral power, surrounded by larger ones, never feared nor courted by anyone; but, in turn, invaded by all whenever it serves their interests. A truly contemptible situation! On the other hand, a man who has carefully observed and experienced the various workings of the heart and the tricks of the mind; who can trace the progression of any nuance by just one hint; who can use different means to persuade understanding and win hearts at the right moments, may have enemies; but he will and must have friends; he may face opposition, but he will also receive support; his talents may incite jealousy in some, but his charm will make him beloved by many more; he will be important; he will matter. It takes many different qualities to create such a man, making him both respectable and likable; the lesser qualities must be paired with the greater ones; the latter would be useless without the former; and the former would be meaningless and superficial without the latter. Knowledge from books is acquired through reading; but the far more essential learning, the understanding of the world, is gained by observing people and studying all their various forms. Many words in each language are generally thought to be synonymous; but anyone who studies language closely will find that there are no true synonyms; they will discover subtle differences, distinctions between words commonly labeled as synonymous; one often has more power, scope, or nuance than another. The same goes for people; all are similar in general, yet no two are exactly alike. Those who haven’t closely studied often confuse them; they fail to recognize the shades and gradations that differentiate seemingly similar characters. The only school for this knowledge is varied company. By this time, you should be at least in the third level of that school, from which the ascent to the highest level is quick and easy; but you must also be dedicated and lively; and you must not merely tolerate, but actively seek out challenges in most social settings, rather than stagnating in just one or two, where you can indulge in laziness and comfort.
In the plan which I gave you in my last,—[That letter is missing.]—for your future motions, I forgot to tell you; that, if a king of the Romans should be chosen this year, you shall certainly be at that election; and as, upon those occasions, all strangers are excluded from the place of the election, except such as belong to some ambassador, I have already eventually secured you a place in the suite of the King’s Electoral Ambassador, who will be sent upon that account to Frankfort, or wherever else the election may be. This will not only secure you a sight of the show, but a knowledge of the whole thing; which is likely to be a contested one, from the opposition of some of the electors, and the protests of some of the princes of the empire. That election, if there is one, will, in my opinion, be a memorable era in the history of the empire; pens at least, if not swords, will be drawn; and ink, if not blood, will be plentifully shed by the contending parties in that dispute. During the fray, you may securely plunder, and add to your present stock of knowledge of the ‘jus publicum imperii’. The court of France hath, I am told, appointed le President Ogier, a man of great abilities, to go immediately to Ratisbon, ‘pour y souffler la discorde’. It must be owned that France hath always profited skillfully of its having guaranteed the treaty of Munster; which hath given it a constant pretense to thrust itself into the affairs of the empire. When France got Alsace yielded by treaty, it was very willing to have held it as a fief of the empire; but the empire was then wiser. Every power should be very careful not to give the least pretense to a neighboring power to meddle with the affairs of its interior. Sweden hath already felt the effects of the Czarina’s calling herself Guarantee of its present form of government, in consequence of the treaty of Neustadt, confirmed afterward by that of Abo; though, in truth, that guarantee was rather a provision against Russia’s attempting to alter the then new established form of government in Sweden, than any right given to Russia to hinder the Swedes from establishing what form of government they pleased. Read them both, if you can get them. Adieu.
In the plan I shared with you last time—[That letter is missing.]—for your upcoming actions, I forgot to mention that if a king of the Romans is chosen this year, you will definitely attend that election. Since all outsiders are typically excluded from the election venue, apart from those associated with an ambassador, I’ve secured you a spot in the entourage of the King’s Electoral Ambassador, who will be sent to Frankfurt or wherever the election takes place. This will not only give you a chance to witness the event but also to understand the entire process, which is likely to be competitive due to some electors' opposition and the protests from certain princes of the empire. I believe this election, if it happens, will be a significant moment in the empire's history; pens, if not swords, will be drawn, and ink, if not blood, will be spilled by the conflicting parties in that dispute. During the chaos, you can safely acquire more knowledge about the 'jus publicum imperii.' I've heard that France has appointed President Ogier, a highly skilled individual, to go directly to Ratisbon “to stir up discord.” It's true that France has always skillfully taken advantage of its guarantee of the Treaty of Münster, which has provided them with a constant excuse to involve themselves in the empire's affairs. When France gained Alsace through the treaty, it was eager to hold it as a fief of the empire; however, the empire was wiser back then. Every power should be cautious not to give any neighboring power a reason to interfere in its internal matters. Sweden has already experienced the consequences of the Czarina calling herself the guarantor of its current government form due to the Treaty of Neustadt, which was later confirmed by the Treaty of Abo. Yet, that guarantee was more of a safeguard against Russia attempting to change the newly established government in Sweden than any right for Russia to stop the Swedes from setting up whatever government they choose. Read both treaties if you can find them. Farewell.
LETTER CLXIV
LONDON, April 73, O. S. 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: I receive this moment your letter of the 19th, N. S., with the inclosed pieces relative to the present dispute between the King and the parliament. I shall return them by Lord Huntingdon, whom you will soon see at Paris, and who will likewise carry you the piece, which I forgot in making up the packet I sent you by the Spanish Ambassador. The representation of the parliament is very well drawn, ‘suaviter in modo, fortiter in re’. They tell the King very respectfully, that, in a certain case, WHICH THEY SHOULD THINK IT CRIMINAL To SUPPOSE, they would not obey him. This hath a tendency to what we call here revolution principles. I do not know what the Lord’s anointed, his vicegerent upon earth, divinely appointed by him, and accountable to none but him for his actions, will either think or do, upon these symptoms of reason and good sense, which seem to be breaking out all over France: but this I foresee, that, before the end of this century, the trade of both king and priest will not be half so good a one as it has been. Du Clos, in his “Reflections,” hath observed, and very truly, ‘qu’il y a un germe de raison qui commence a se developper en France’;—a developpement that must prove fatal to Regal and Papal pretensions. Prudence may, in many cases, recommend an occasional submission to either; but when that ignorance, upon which an implicit faith in both could only be founded, is once removed, God’s Vicegerent, and Christ’s Vicar, will only be obeyed and believed, as far as what the one orders, and the other says, is conformable to reason and to truth.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I just received your letter from the 19th, N. S., along with the enclosed documents about the current conflict between the King and the parliament. I’ll send them back with Lord Huntingdon, whom you’ll be seeing soon in Paris, and who will also bring you the document I forgot to include in the packet I sent you via the Spanish Ambassador. The parliament's representation is very well articulated, 'gentle in manner, strong in substance.' They respectfully tell the King that, in a certain situation, which they would find it wrong to assume, they would not obey him. This leans toward what we refer to as revolutionary principles here. I don’t know what the Lord’s anointed, his representative on earth, divinely appointed by him, and accountable to no one but him for his actions, will think or do about these signs of reason and common sense that seem to be emerging throughout France: but I do foresee that, by the end of this century, the positions of both king and priest will not be nearly as lucrative as they once were. Du Clos, in his “Reflections,” has accurately noted that 'there is a seed of reason beginning to develop in France';—a development that will be detrimental to royal and papal claims. Prudence may sometimes suggest a temporary submission to either; but once the ignorance that sustains blind faith in both is removed, God’s representative and Christ’s Vicar will only be obeyed and believed insofar as what each commands and what the other states aligns with reason and truth.
I am very glad (to use a vulgar expression) that You MAKE AS IF YOU WERE NOT WELL, though you really are; I am sure it is the likeliest way to keep so. Pray leave off entirely your greasy, heavy pastry, fat creams, and indigestible dumplings; and then you need not confine yourself to white meats, which I do not take to be one jot wholesomer than beef, mutton, and partridge.
I’m really glad (to put it bluntly) that you’re pretending to be unwell when you’re not; I’m sure that’s the best way to actually feel that way. Please completely stop eating your greasy, heavy pastries, rich creams, and hard-to-digest dumplings; then you won’t have to stick to just white meats, which I don’t believe are any healthier than beef, lamb, or partridge.
Voltaire sent me, from Berlin, his ‘History du Siecle de Louis XIV. It came at a very proper time; Lord Bolingbroke had just taught me how history should be read; Voltaire shows me how it should be written. I am sensible that it will meet with almost as many critics as readers. Voltaire must be criticised; besides, every man’s favorite is attacked: for every prejudice is exposed, and our prejudices are our mistresses; reason is at best our wife, very often heard indeed, but seldom minded. It is the history of the human understanding, written by a man of parts, for the use of men of parts. Weak minds will not like it, even though they do not understand it; which is commonly the measure of their admiration. Dull ones will want those minute and uninteresting details with which most other histories are encumbered. He tells me all I want to know, and nothing more. His reflections are short, just, and produce others in his readers. Free from religious, philosophical, political and national prejudices, beyond any historian I ever met with, he relates all those matters as truly and as impartially, as certain regards, which must always be to some degree observed, will allow him; for one sees plainly that he often says much less than he would say, if he might. He hath made me much better acquainted with the times of Lewis XIV., than the innumerable volumes which I had read could do; and hath suggested this reflection to me, which I have never made before—His vanity, not his knowledge, made him encourage all, and introduce many arts and sciences in his country. He opened in a manner the human understanding in France, and brought it to its utmost perfection; his age equalled in all, and greatly exceeded in many things (pardon me, Pedants!) the Augustan. This was great and rapid; but still it might be done, by the encouragement, the applause, and the rewards of a vain, liberal, and magnificent prince. What is much more surprising is, that he stopped the operations of the human mind just where he pleased; and seemed to say, “Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.” For, a bigot to his religion, and jealous of his power, free and rational thoughts upon either, never entered into a French head during his reign; and the greatest geniuses that ever any age produced, never entertained a doubt of the divine right of Kings, or the infallibility of the Church. Poets, Orators, and Philosophers, ignorant of their natural rights, cherished their chains; and blind, active faith triumphed, in those great minds, over silent and passive reason. The reverse of this seems now to be the case in France: reason opens itself; fancy and invention fade and decline.
Voltaire sent me his ‘History of the Age of Louis XIV’ from Berlin. It arrived at the perfect time; Lord Bolingbroke had just taught me how to read history, and Voltaire shows me how to write it. I realize it will attract almost as many critics as readers. Voltaire invites criticism; besides, everyone’s favorite is often attacked: every bias is revealed, and our biases are our comforts; reason is at best our spouse, often heard but seldom heeded. It’s a history of human understanding, written by a skilled writer for the use of discerning readers. Weak minds will dislike it, even if they don’t fully grasp it; that’s often how they measure their admiration. Dull minds will request the tedious and uninteresting details that weigh down most other histories. He tells me everything I want to know and nothing more. His reflections are brief, insightful, and spark further thought in his readers. He’s free from religious, philosophical, political, and national biases more than any historian I’ve encountered; he recounts all matters as truly and impartially as certain considerations allow, for it’s clear he often says much less than he could. He has made me far better acquainted with the times of Louis XIV than the countless volumes I’ve read could do and sparked a reflection I’ve never had before—his vanity, not just his knowledge, led him to support all kinds of arts and sciences in his country. He opened the human understanding in France and brought it to its highest point; his era matched the Augustan Age in many ways, and surpassed it in some (forgive me, Academics!). This was impressive and swift; yet it could only happen through the encouragement, applause, and rewards of a vain, generous, and magnificent prince. What’s even more surprising is that he controlled the progress of the human mind just as he wished, seeming to say, “This far, and no further.” For, being a bigot in his faith and protective of his power, free and rational thoughts on either never entered a French mind during his reign; the greatest geniuses of any age never doubted the divine right of kings or the infallibility of the Church. Poets, orators, and philosophers, unaware of their natural rights, accepted their chains; and blind, fervent faith triumphed in those great minds over quiet and passive reason. The opposite seems to be true in France now: reason is emerging; imagination and creativity are fading and dwindling.
I will send you a copy of this history by Lord Huntingdon, as I think it very probable that it is not allowed to be published and sold at Paris. Pray read it more than once, and with attention, particularly the second volume, which contains short, but very clear accounts of many very interesting things, which are talked of by everybody, though fairly. understood by very few. There are two very puerile affectations which I wish this book had been free from; the one is, the total subversion of all the old established French orthography; the other is, the not making use of any one capital letter throughout the whole book, except at the beginning of a paragraph. It offends my eyes to see rome, paris, france, Caesar, I henry the fourth, etc., begin with small letters; and I do not conceive that there can be any reason for doing it, half so strong as the reason of long usage is to the contrary. This is an affectation below Voltaire; who, I am not ashamed to say, that I admire and delight in, as an author, equally in prose and in verse.
I will send you a copy of this history by Lord Huntingdon because I think it's likely not allowed to be published and sold in Paris. Please read it more than once and pay close attention, especially to the second volume, which has brief but very clear accounts of many interesting things that everyone talks about, though very few truly understand. There are two childish pretensions I wish this book didn't have; one is the complete abandonment of traditional French spelling, and the other is the absence of capital letters throughout the entire book, except at the start of a paragraph. It bothers me to see rome, paris, france, Caesar, I henry the fourth, etc., all starting with lowercase letters, and I can't see any reason for it that's stronger than the argument for long-standing usage. This is an affectation beneath Voltaire, whom I am proud to say I admire and enjoy, both in prose and verse.
I had a letter a few days ago from Monsieur du Boccage, in which he says, ‘Monsieur Stanhope s’est jete dans la politique, et je crois qu’il y reussira’: You do very well, it is your destination; but remember that, to succeed in great things, one must first learn to please in little ones. Engaging manners and address must prepare the way for superior knowledge and abilities to act with effect. The late Duke of Marlborough’s manners and address prevailed with the first king of Prussia, to let his troops remain in the army of the Allies, when neither their representations, nor his own share in the common cause could do it. The Duke of Marlborough had no new matter to urge to him; but had a manner, which he could not, nor did not, resist. Voltaire, among a thousand little delicate strokes of that kind, says of the Duke de la Feuillade, ‘qu’il etoit l’homme le plus brillant et le plus aimable du royaume; et quoique gendre du General et Ministre, il avoit pour lui la faveur publique’. Various little circumstances of that sort will often make a man of great real merit be hated, if he hath not address and manners to make him be loved. Consider all your own circumstances seriously; and you will find that, of all arts, the art of pleasing is the most necessary for you to study and possess. A silly tyrant said, ‘oderint modo timeant’; a wise man would have said, ‘modo ament nihil timendum est mihi’. Judge from your own daily experience, of the efficacy of that pleasing ‘je ne sais quoi’, when you feel, as you and everybody certainly does, that in men it is more engaging than knowledge, in women than beauty.
A few days ago, I got a letter from Monsieur du Boccage, where he says, “Monsieur Stanhope has jumped into politics, and I believe he will succeed.” You’re doing well; it’s your calling. But remember, to succeed in big things, you first need to learn how to charm in small ones. Attractive manners and presence must pave the way for greater knowledge and the ability to take effective action. The late Duke of Marlborough’s charm and manner convinced the first king of Prussia to keep his troops in the Allied army, when neither their arguments nor his own involvement in the common cause could sway him. The Duke of Marlborough didn’t present any new arguments, but he had a way about him that the king couldn’t, and didn’t want to, resist. Voltaire, with his usual flair for detail, says of the Duke de la Feuillade that he was “the most brilliant and charming man in the kingdom; and although he was the son-in-law of a General and Minister, he had the public’s favor.” Various little circumstances like that can often make a truly talented person be disliked if they lack the charm and manners to be liked. Think carefully about your own situation, and you’ll see that, above all skills, the ability to please is the most important for you to master. A foolish tyrant once said, “Let them hate, as long as they fear”; a wise person would say, “As long as they love, there’s nothing to fear from me.” Reflect on your daily experiences to see how effective that charming “je ne sais quoi” can be, as you undoubtedly notice that in men, it’s more appealing than knowledge, and in women, more so than beauty.
I long to see Lord and Lady———-(who are not yet arrived), because they have lately seen you; and I always fancy, that I can fish out something new concerning you, from those who have seen you last: not that I shall much rely upon their accounts, because I distrust the judgment of Lord and Lady———-, in those matters about which I am most inquisitive. They have ruined their own son by what they called and thought loving him. They have made him believe that the world was made for him, not he for the world; and unless he stays abroad a great while, and falls into very good company, he will expect, what he will never find, the attentions and complaisance from others, which he has hitherto been used to from Papa and Mamma. This, I fear, is too much the case of Mr. ----; who, I doubt, will be run through the body, and be near dying, before he knows how to live. However you may turn out, you can never make me any of these reproaches. I indulged no silly, womanish fondness for you; instead of inflicting my tenderness upon you, I have taken all possible methods to make you deserve it; and thank God you do; at least, I know but one article, in which you are different from what I could wish you; and you very well know what that is I want: That I and all the world should like you, as well as I love you. Adieu.
I can’t wait to see Lord and Lady——— (who haven’t arrived yet) because they just saw you, and I always feel like I can find out something new about you from those who last saw you. Not that I’ll rely too much on their accounts because I don’t trust Lord and Lady——— when it comes to the things I’m most curious about. They’ve messed up their own son by what they thought was love. They’ve made him think the world is here for him, not that he’s meant to be part of the world. Unless he spends a lot of time abroad and gets in with the right crowd, he will expect the attention and kindness from others that he’s used to getting from his parents, which he will never find. I’m afraid this is too true for Mr. ----; I worry he’ll go through a tough time before he figures out how to really live. No matter how things turn out for you, you’ll never have to worry about those concerns from me. I haven’t had any silly, overly sentimental feelings for you; instead of showering you with affection, I’ve done everything I can to help you earn it; and thank God you do; at least, there’s only one thing where you don’t match up to my hopes, and you know exactly what I wish for: that I and everyone else should like you as much as I love you. Goodbye.
LETTER CLXV
LONDON, April 30, O. S. 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: ‘Avoir du monde’ is, in my opinion, a very just and happy expression for having address, manners, and for knowing how to behave properly in all companies; and it implies very truly that a man who hath not those accomplishments is not of the world. Without them, the best parts are inefficient, civility is absurd, and freedom offensive. A learned parson, rusting in his cell, at Oxford or Cambridge, will season admirably well upon the nature of man; will profoundly analyze the head, the heart, the reason, the will, the passions, the senses, the sentiments, and all those subdivisions of we know not what; and yet, unfortunately, he knows nothing of man, for he hath not lived with him; and is ignorant of all the various modes, habits, prejudices, and tastes, that always influence and often determine him. He views man as he does colors in Sir Isaac Newton’s prism, where only the capital ones are seen; but an experienced dyer knows all their various shades and gradations, together with the result of their several mixtures. Few men are of one plain, decided color; most are mixed, shaded, and blended; and vary as much, from different situations, as changeable silks do form different lights. The man ‘qui a du monde’ knows all this from his own experience and observation: the conceited, cloistered philosopher knows nothing of it from his own theory; his practice is absurd and improper, and he acts as awkwardly as a man would dance, who had never seen others dance, nor learned of a dancing-master; but who had only studied the notes by which dances are now pricked down as well as tunes. Observe and imitate, then, the address, the arts, and the manners of those ‘qui ont du monde’: see by what methods they first make, and afterward improve impressions in their favor. Those impressions are much oftener owing to little causes than to intrinsic merit; which is less volatile, and hath not so sudden an effect. Strong minds have undoubtedly an ascendant over weak ones, as Galigai Marachale d’Ancre very justly observed, when, to the disgrace and reproach of those times, she was executed for having governed Mary of Medicis by the arts of witchcraft and magic. But then ascendant is to be gained by degrees, and by those arts only which experience and the knowledge of the world teaches; for few are mean enough to be bullied, though most are weak enough to be bubbled. I have often seen people of superior, governed by people of much inferior parts, without knowing or even suspecting that they were so governed. This can only happen when those people of inferior parts have more worldly dexterity and experience, than those they govern. They see the weak and unguarded part, and apply to it they take it, and all the rest follows. Would you gain either men or women, and every man of sense desires to gain both, ‘il faut du monde’. You have had more opportunities than ever any man had, at your age, of acquiring ‘ce monde’. You have been in the best companies of most countries, at an age when others have hardly been in any company at all. You are master of all those languages, which John Trott seldom speaks at all, and never well; consequently you need be a stranger nowhere. This is the way, and the only way, of having ‘du monde’, but if you have it not, and have still any coarse rusticity about you, may not one apply to you the ‘rusticus expectat’ of Horace?
MY DEAR FRIEND: "Having social skills" is, in my opinion, a very accurate and fitting expression for having the right manners and knowing how to behave properly in any situation; and it really does imply that a person who lacks these qualities is not part of the social world. Without them, the best qualities are useless, politeness seems ridiculous, and freedom can be insulting. A learned clergyman, stuck in his room at Oxford or Cambridge, may analyze human nature in depth; he can dissect the mind, the heart, the reason, the will, the passions, the senses, the feelings, and all their subdivisions, yet, unfortunately, he knows nothing about real people because he hasn’t interacted with them; he's unaware of the many modes, habits, prejudices, and preferences that always shape and often dictate behavior. He observes humanity like viewing colors through Sir Isaac Newton’s prism, where only the primary colors are visible; but a seasoned dyer understands all their various shades and combinations, as well as how their mixtures turn out. Few people are of one straightforward color; most are mixed, shaded, and blended and shift as much due to different situations as changeable silks do in various lights. The person "who is socially skilled" knows all this from personal experience: the arrogant, isolated philosopher is oblivious to it from theory; his actions are clumsy and inappropriate, and he moves as awkwardly as someone would dance who had never seen anyone else dance, nor learned from a dance instructor; he has only studied the notes that represent the dances like music. So, observe and imitate the style, skills, and manners of those "who have social skills": notice how they first create, and then enhance, positive impressions. Those impressions are often due to small factors rather than inherent merit, which is less fleeting and doesn’t have such an immediate effect. Strong minds certainly have an advantage over weaker ones, as Galigai Marachale d’Ancre rightly pointed out when, to the disgrace of her time, she was executed for having manipulated Mary of Medicis using tricks and magic. But this influence is earned gradually and through the skills that experience and knowledge of the world provide; for few are low enough to be bullied, though many are naive enough to be deceived. I’ve often seen people with superior intellect controlled by those who are much less capable, without realizing or even suspecting this control. This can only occur when those with lesser talents possess more social savvy and experience than those they lead. They identify the weak and vulnerable aspects, exploit them, and everything else follows. If you want to win the favor of either men or women—and every person of sense wants both—you must possess social skills. You have had more opportunities than anyone else your age to acquire these skills. You’ve been part of the best circles in various countries at an age when others have barely been in any circle at all. You are fluent in all those languages that John Trott rarely speaks and never well; therefore, you should feel at home anywhere. This is the way, and the only way, to gain social skills, but if you lack them and still carry any roughness about you, might not one apply to you the "rusticus expectat" of Horace?
This knowledge of the world teaches us more particularly two things, both which are of infinite consequence, and to neither of which nature inclines us; I mean, the command of our temper, and of our countenance. A man who has no ‘monde’ is inflamed with anger, or annihilated with shame, at every disagreeable incident: the one makes him act and talk like a madman, the other makes him look like a fool. But a man who has ‘du monde’, seems not to understand what he cannot or ought not to resent. If he makes a slip himself, he recovers it by his coolness, instead of plunging deeper by his confusion like a stumbling horse. He is firm, but gentle; and practices that most excellent maxim, ‘suaviter in modo, fortiter in re’. The other is the ‘volto sciolto a pensieri stretti’. People unused to the world have babbling countenances; and are unskillful enough to show what they have sense enough not to tell. In the course of the world, a man must very often put on an easy, frank countenance, upon very disagreeable occasions; he must seem pleased when he is very much otherwise; he must be able to accost and receive with smiles, those whom he would much rather meet with swords. In courts he must not turn himself inside out. All this may, nay must be done, without falsehood and treachery; for it must go no further than politeness and manners, and must stop short of assurances and professions of simulated friendship. Good manners, to those one does not love, are no more a breach of truth, than “your humble servant” at the bottom of a challenge is; they are universally agreed upon and understood, to be things of course. They are necessary guards of the decency and peace of society; they must only act defensively; and then not with arms poisoned by perfidy. Truth, but not the whole truth, must be the invariable principle of every man, who hath either religion, honor, or prudence. Those who violate it may be cunning, but they are not able. Lies and perfidy are the refuge of fools and cowards. Adieu!
Understanding the world teaches us two critical things, both of which are extremely important and not natural to us: controlling our temper and our expression. Someone who is inexperienced gets angry or feels utterly humiliated with every unpleasant situation. Anger makes them act and speak like a lunatic, while shame makes them look foolish. But someone who is experienced seems to know what to overlook or not take to heart. If they make a mistake, they recover with composure instead of getting more flustered like a stumbling horse. They are strong yet gentle, following the excellent principle of "gentle in manner, strong in action." The opposite is the "carefree face with tight thoughts." People who aren’t used to social situations have expressive faces and awkwardly reveal things they shouldn’t say out loud. In life, a person often has to wear a relaxed, friendly expression even in uncomfortable situations; they must appear happy when they feel the opposite and greet those they'd rather confront with hostility. In polite settings, one should not be overly transparent. All of this can—and should—be done without deceit or betrayal; it should only extend to politeness and etiquette, stopping well short of false assurances or feigned friendship. Good manners towards those you don’t care for aren't a breach of truth, just like ending a challenge with "your humble servant" is understood as routine. They are essential for maintaining decency and peace in society; they should only be defensive and never armed with treachery. Truth, but not the entire truth, should be the unchanging principle for anyone who values religion, honor, or common sense. Those who break this principle may be clever, but they lack true ability. Lies and deceit are the traps of fools and cowards. Goodbye!
P. S. I must recommend to you again, to take your leave of all your French acquaintance, in such a manner as may make them regret your departure, and wish to see and welcome you at Paris again, where you may possibly return before it is very long. This must not be done in a cold, civil manner, but with at least seeming warmth, sentiment, and concern. Acknowledge the obligations you have to them for the kindness they have shown you during your stay at Paris: assure them that wherever you are, you will remember them with gratitude; wish for opportunities of giving them proofs of your ‘plus tendre et respectueux souvenir; beg of them in case your good fortune should carry them to any part of the world where you could be of any the least use to them, that they would employ you without reserve. Say all this, and a great deal more, emphatically and pathetically; for you know ‘si vis me flere’. This can do you no harm, if you never return to Paris; but if you do, as probably you may, it will be of infinite use to you. Remember too, not to omit going to every house where you have ever been once, to take leave and recommend yourself to their remembrance. The reputation which you leave at one place, where you have been, will circulate, and you will meet with it at twenty places where you are to go. That is a labor never quite lost.
P.S. I want to remind you again to say goodbye to all your French friends in a way that makes them regret your departure and want to see you back in Paris again, where you might return before too long. This shouldn’t be done in a cold or polite way, but with at least a show of warmth, feeling, and concern. Acknowledge the kindness they’ve shown you during your time in Paris: assure them that no matter where you are, you’ll remember them with gratitude; express your desire to have the chance to show them your ‘most tender and respectful remembrance;’ ask them that if fortune takes them anywhere in the world where you could be of help, they should reach out without hesitation. Say all of this, and more, with feeling and urgency; you know the saying ‘if you want me to cry.’ This won’t hurt you if you never go back to Paris; but if you do, as you probably will, it could be incredibly beneficial. Also, don’t forget to visit every place where you’ve been, to say goodbye and remind them of you. The reputation you leave behind at one place will spread, and you’ll encounter it in many places you go. That’s effort that’s never wasted.
This letter will show you, that the accident which happened to me yesterday, and of which Mr. Grevenkop gives you account, hath had no bad consequences. My escape was a great one.
This letter will show you that the accident I had yesterday, which Mr. Grevenkop is telling you about, has had no serious consequences. I was very lucky to escape.
LETTER CLXVI
LONDON, May 11, O. S. 1752.
DEAR FRIEND: I break my word by writing this letter; but I break it on the allowable side, by doing more than I promised. I have pleasure in writing to you; and you may possibly have some profit in reading what I write; either of the motives were sufficient for me, both for you I cannot withstand. By your last I calculate that you will leave Paris upon this day se’nnight; upon that supposition, this letter may still find you there.
DEAR FRIEND: I’m going back on my word by writing this letter, but I’m doing so in a way that seems acceptable since I’m doing more than I promised. I enjoy writing to you, and you might find some benefit in reading what I write; either reason would be enough for me, but I can’t resist both for you. From your last message, I gather that you’ll be leaving Paris a week from today; if that’s the case, this letter might still reach you there.
Colonel Perry arrived here two or three days ago, and sent me a book from you; Cassandra abridged. I am sure it cannot be too much abridged. The spirit of that most voluminous work, fairly extracted, may be contained in the smallest duodecimo; and it is most astonishing, that there ever could have been people idle enough to write or read such endless heaps of the same stuff. It was, however, the occupation of thousands in the last century, and is still the private, though disavowed, amusement of young girls, and sentimental ladies. A lovesick girl finds, in the captain with whom she is in love, all the courage and all the graces of the tender and accomplished Oroondates: and many a grown-up, sentimental lady, talks delicate Clelia to the hero, whom she would engage to eternal love, or laments with her that love is not eternal.
Colonel Perry showed up here a couple of days ago and sent me a book from you; it’s an abridged version of Cassandra. I'm sure it can't be too abridged. The essence of that huge work can easily fit into a small book; it’s really surprising that there were ever people who had the time to write or read such endless piles of the same stuff. However, it was the main pastime of thousands in the last century, and it’s still a private, albeit unacknowledged, hobby for young girls and sentimental women. A lovesick girl sees all the courage and charm of the refined and accomplished Oroondates in the captain she adores; and many grown-up, sentimental women imagine delicate Clelia with the hero they wish to promise everlasting love to, or they mourn together 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.”
“Ah! how sweet it is to love, if only love could last forever!
But alas! there are no eternal loves.”It is, however, very well to have read one of those extravagant works (of all which La Calprenede’s are the best), because it is well to be able to talk, with some degree of knowledge, upon all those subjects that other people talk sometimes upon: and I would by no means have anything, that is known to others, be totally unknown to you. It is a great advantage for any man, to be able to talk or to hear, neither ignorantly nor absurdly, upon any subject; for I have known people, who have not said one word, hear ignorantly and absurdly; it has appeared in their inattentive and unmeaning faces.
It's definitely a good idea to have read one of those extravagant books (La Calprenède’s are the best of all), because it’s useful to be able to discuss topics that other people sometimes talk about: I wouldn’t want you to be completely in the dark about things that are known to others. It’s a real advantage for anyone to be able to discuss or listen to any subject, without sounding ignorant or foolish; I’ve seen people who haven’t said a word but heard things in an ignorant and silly way, which showed in their distracted and vacant expressions.
This, I think, is as little likely to happen to you as to anybody of your age: and if you will but add a versatility and easy conformity of manners, I know no company in which you are likely to be de trop.
I think this is as unlikely to happen to you as it is to anyone else your age: and if you just add some versatility and a relaxed way of being social, I can't think of any group where you would feel out of place.
This versatility is more particularly necessary for you at this time, now that you are going to so many different places: for, though the manners and customs of the several courts of Germany are in general the same, yet everyone has its particular characteristic; some peculiarity or other, which distinguishes it from the next. This you should carefully attend to, and immediately adopt. Nothing flatters people more, nor makes strangers so welcome, as such an occasional conformity. I do not mean by this, that you should mimic the air and stiffness of every awkward German court; no, by no means; but I mean that you should only cheerfully comply, and fall in with certain local habits, such as ceremonies, diet, turn of conversation, etc. People who are lately come from Paris, and who have been a good while there, are generally suspected, and especially in Germany, of having a degree of contempt for every other place. Take great care that nothing of this kind appear, at least outwardly, in your behavior; but commend whatever deserves any degree of commendation, without comparing it with what you may have left, much better of the same kind, at Paris. As for instance, the German kitchen is, without doubt, execrable, and the French delicious; however, never commend the French kitchen at a German table; but eat of what you can find tolerable there, and commend it, without comparing it to anything better. I have known many British Yahoos, who though while they were at Paris conformed to no one French custom, as soon as they got anywhere else, talked of nothing but what they did, saw, and eat at Paris. The freedom of the French is not to be used indiscriminately at all the courts in Germany, though their easiness may, and ought; but that, too, at some places more than others. The courts of Manheim and Bonn, I take to be a little more unbarbarized than some others; that of Mayence, an ecclesiastical one, as well as that of Treves (neither of which is much frequented by foreigners), retains, I conceive, a great deal of the Goth and Vandal still. There, more reserve and ceremony are necessary; and not a word of the French. At Berlin, you cannot be too French. Hanover, Brunswick, Cassel, etc., are of the mixed kind, ‘un peu decrottes, mais pas assez’.
This flexibility is especially important for you right now, since you’re visiting so many different places. While the customs and manners of the various courts in Germany are generally similar, each has its own unique characteristics that set it apart from the others. You should pay close attention to these differences and adapt accordingly. Nothing flatters people more or makes strangers feel more welcome than occasionally fitting in with their customs. I’m not saying you should copy the stiff and awkward behavior of every German court; rather, I mean that you should happily go along with certain local practices, like ceremonies, food, and conversation style. People who recently came from Paris and spent a decent amount of time there are often viewed with suspicion—especially in Germany—for looking down on other places. Be extremely careful that nothing like that shows in your behavior, at least outwardly; praise whatever is praiseworthy without comparing it to what you might have enjoyed more back in Paris. For example, while the German cuisine is undeniably terrible and the French cuisine is delicious, never praise the French food at a German table; just eat what you find acceptable there and compliment it without comparing it to anything better. I’ve seen many British folks who, although they didn’t follow any French customs while in Paris, talked endlessly about what they did, saw, and ate there as soon as they arrived elsewhere. The casualness of the French shouldn’t be applied indiscriminately at all courts in Germany, although their ease can and should be embraced—just more so in some places than others. The courts in Mannheim and Bonn seem to be a bit less crude than others; the ecclesiastical court in Mainz, as well as that in Treves (which aren’t often visited by foreigners), still retain a lot of old Gothic and Vandal touches. At those places, more reserve and ceremony are needed, and French should not be spoken. In Berlin, you can be as French as you like. Hanover, Brunswick, Cassel, etc., are mixed—“a little rough around the edges, but not too much.”
Another thing, which I most earnestly recommend to you, not only in Germany, but in every part of the world where you may ever be, is not only real, but seeming attention, to whoever you speak to, or to whoever speaks to you. There is nothing so brutally shocking, nor so little forgiven, as a seeming inattention to the person who is speaking to you: and I have known many a man knocked down, for (in my opinion) a much lighter provocation, than that shocking inattention which I mean. I have seen many people, who, while you are speaking to them, instead of looking at, and attending to you, fix their eyes upon the ceiling or some other part of the room, look out of the window, play with a dog, twirl their snuff-box, or pick their nose. Nothing discovers a little, futile, frivolous mind more than this, and nothing is so offensively ill-bred; it is an explicit declaration on your part, that every the most trifling object, deserves your attention more than all that can be said by the person who is speaking to you. Judge of the sentiments of hatred and resentment, which such treatment must excite in every breast where any degree of self-love dwells; and I am sure I never yet met with that breast where there was not a great deal: I repeat it again and again (for it is highly necessary for you to remember it), that sort of vanity and self-love is inseparable from human nature, whatever may be its rank or condition; even your footmen will sooner forget and forgive a beating, than any manifest mark of slight and contempt. Be therefore, I beg of you, not only really, but seemingly and manifestly attentive to whoever speaks to you; nay, more, take their ‘ton’, and tune yourself to their unison. Be serious with the serious, gay with the gay, and trifle with the triflers. In assuming these various shapes, endeavor to make each of them seem to sit easy upon you, and even to appear to be your own natural one. This is the true and useful versatility, of which a thorough knowledge of the world at once teaches the utility and the means of acquiring.
Another thing I strongly recommend to you, not just in Germany but everywhere you go, is to show genuine attention, both real and perceived, to whoever you're speaking to or who is speaking to you. There's nothing more shocking or less forgivable than appearing disinterested in the person talking to you, and I've seen many people get into fights for (in my opinion) far less provocation than that shocking inattention I mention. I've noticed many people, while you're talking to them, fix their gaze on the ceiling or somewhere else in the room, look out the window, play with a dog, fiddle with a snuff-box, or pick their nose. Nothing reveals a small, superficial, and trivial mind more than this, and it's extremely impolite; it clearly communicates that even the most insignificant thing deserves your attention more than what the speaker is saying. Just think about the feelings of hatred and resentment that such behavior must stir in anyone with a sense of self-respect; and I know I have yet to meet anyone without a good amount of that. I say it again and again (because it's very important for you to remember): that kind of vanity and self-love is part of human nature, no matter the person's status or situation; even your servants will forget and forgive a beating sooner than they will tolerate any obvious sign of disrespect or contempt. So, please, be not only truly but also visibly and noticeably attentive to whoever speaks to you; moreover, adapt to their tone and align yourself with their vibe. Be serious with the serious, cheerful with the cheerful, and light-hearted with those who jest. As you take on these different approaches, try to make each of them feel natural for you, and even make them seem like your own way of being. This is the real and valuable versatility that a good understanding of the world teaches both its usefulness and how to achieve it.
I am very sure, at least I hope, that you will never make use of a silly expression, which is the favorite expression, and the absurd excuse of all fools and blockheads; I CANNOT DO SUCH A THING; a thing by no means either morally or physically impossible. I CANNOT attend long together to the same thing, says one fool; that is, he is such a fool that he will not. I remember a very awkward fellow, who did not know what to do with his sword, and who always took it off before dinner, saying that he could not possibly dine with his sword on; upon which I could not help telling him, that I really believed he could without any probable danger either to himself or others. It is a shame and an absurdity, for any man to say that he cannot do all those things, which are commonly done by all the rest of mankind.
I’m pretty sure, or at least I hope, that you’ll never use a ridiculous phrase, which is the go-to excuse for all fools—“I CAN'T DO THAT.” It's something that is neither morally nor physically impossible. One fool says, “I CAN'T focus on the same thing for long,” which really means he’s just too foolish to try. I remember this really awkward guy who didn’t know what to do with his sword and always took it off before dinner, claiming he couldn't possibly eat with his sword on. I couldn’t help but tell him that I honestly believed he could, without putting himself or anyone else in danger. It’s a shame and completely absurd for anyone to say they can’t do things that everyone else manages just fine.
Another thing that I must earnestly warn you against is laziness; by which more people have lost the fruit of their travels than, perhaps, by any other thing. Pray be always in motion. Early in the morning go and see things; and the rest of the day go and see people. If you stay but a week at a place, and that an insignificant one, see, however, all that is to be seen there; know as many people, and get into as many houses, as ever you can.
Another thing I really need to warn you about is laziness; more people have missed out on the rewards of their travels because of it than probably any other reason. Please try to stay active. Early in the morning, go explore; and for the rest of the day, meet people. Even if you’re only in a place for a week, and it’s a small one, make sure you see everything there is to see; meet as many people as you can, and get into as many homes as possible.
I recommend to you likewise, though probably you have thought of it yourself, to carry in your pocket a map of Germany, in which the postroads are marked; and also some short book of travels through Germany. The former will help to imprint in your memory situations and distances; and the latter will point out many things for you to see, that might otherwise possibly escape you, and which, though they may be in themselves of little consequence, you would regret not having seen, after having been at the places where they were.
I suggest, although you might have already thought of this, to keep a map of Germany in your pocket that shows the main roads, along with a brief travel guide for Germany. The map will help you remember locations and distances, and the guide will highlight things to see that you might otherwise miss. Even if these things seem small, you might regret not seeing them after you've been to those places.
Thus warned and provided for your journey, God speed you; ‘Felix faustumque sit! Adieu.
Thus warned and prepared for your journey, safe travels to you; ‘Wishing you all the best! Goodbye.
LETTER CLXVII
LONDON, May 27, O. S. 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: I send you the inclosed original from a friend of ours, with my own commentaries upon the text; a text which I have so often paraphrased, and commented upon already, that I believe I can hardly say anything new upon it; but, however, I cannot give it over till I am better convinced, than I yet am, that you feel all the utility, the importance, and the necessity of it; nay, not only feel, but practice it. Your panegyrist allows you, what most fathers would be more than satisified with, in a son, and chides me for not contenting myself with ‘l’essentiellement bon’; but I, who have been in no one respect like other fathers, cannot neither, like them, content myself with ‘l’essentiellement bon’; because I know that it will not do your business in the world, while you want ‘quelques couches de vernis’. Few fathers care much for their sons, or, at least, most of them care more for their money: and, consequently, content themselves with giving them, at the cheapest rate, the common run of education: that is, a school till eighteen; the university till twenty; and a couple of years riding post through the several towns of Europe; impatient till their boobies come home to be married, and, as they call it, settled. Of those who really love their sons, few know how to do it. Some spoil them by fondling them while they are young, and then quarrel with them when they are grown up, for having been spoiled; some love them like mothers, and attend only to the bodily health and strength of the hopes of their family, solemnize his birthday, and rejoice, like the subjects of the Great Mogul, at the increase of his bulk; while others, minding, as they think, only essentials, take pains and pleasure to see in their heir, all their favorite weaknesses and imperfections. I hope and believe that I have kept clear of all of these errors in the education which I have given you. No weaknesses of my own have warped it, no parsimony has starved it, no rigor has deformed it. Sound and extensive learning was the foundation which I meant to lay—I have laid it; but that alone, I knew, would by no means be sufficient: the ornamental, the showish, the pleasing superstructure was to be begun. In that view, I threw you into the great world, entirely your own master, at an age when others either guzzle at the university, or are sent abroad in servitude to some awkward, pedantic Scotch governor. This was to put you in the way, and the only way of acquiring those manners, that address, and those graces, which exclusively distinguish people of fashion; and without which all moral virtues, and all acquired learning, are of no sort of use in the courts and ‘le beau monde’: on the contrary, I am not sure if they are not an hindrance. They are feared and disliked in those places, as too severe, if not smoothed and introduced by the graces; but of these graces, of this necessary ‘beau vernis’, it seems there are still ‘quelque couches qui manquent’. Now, pray let me ask you, coolly and seriously, ‘pourquoi ces couches manquent-elles’? For you may as easily take them, as you may wear more or less powder in your hair, more or less lace upon your coat. I can therefore account for your wanting them no other way in the world, than from your not being yet convinced of their full value. You have heard some English bucks say, “Damn these finical outlandish airs, give me a manly, resolute manner. They make a rout with their graces, and talk like a parcel of dancing-masters, and dress like a parcel of fops: one good Englishman will beat three of them.” But let your own observation undeceive you of these prejudices. I will give you one instance only, instead of an hundred that I could give you, of a very shining fortune and figure, raised upon no other foundation whatsoever, than that of address, manners, and graces. Between you and me (for this example must go no further), what do you think made our friend, Lord A——e, Colonel of a regiment of guards, Governor of Virginia, Groom of the Stole, and Ambassador to Paris; amounting in all to sixteen or seventeen thousand pounds a year? Was it his birth? No, a Dutch gentleman only. Was it his estate? No, he had none. Was it his learning, his parts, his political abilities and application? You can answer these questions as easily, and as soon, as I can ask them. What was it then? Many people wondered, but I do not; for I know, and will tell you. It was his air, his address, his manners, and his graces. He pleased, and by pleasing he became a favorite; and by becoming a favorite became all that he has been since. Show me any one instance, where intrinsic worth and merit, unassisted by exterior accomplishments, have raised any man so high. You know the Due de Richelieu, now ‘Marechal, Cordon bleu, Gentilhomme de la Chambre’, twice Ambassador, etc. By what means? Not by the purity of his character, the depth of his knowledge, or any uncommon penetration and sagacity. Women alone formed and raised him. The Duchess of Burgundy took a fancy to him, and had him before he was sixteen years old; this put him in fashion among the beau monde: and the late Regent’s oldest daughter, now Madame de Modene, took him next, and was near marrying him. These early connections with women of the first distinction gave him those manners, graces, and address, which you see he has; and which, I can assure you, are all that he has; for, strip him of them, and he will be one of the poorest men in Europe. Man or woman cannot resist an engaging exterior; it will please, it will make its way. You want, it seems, but ‘quelques couches’; for God’s sake, lose no time in getting them; and now you have gone so far, complete the work. Think of nothing else till that work is finished; unwearied application will bring about anything: and surely your application can never be so well employed as upon that object, which is absolutely necessary to facilitate all others. With your knowledge and parts, if adorned by manners and graces, what may you not hope one day to be? But without them, you will be in the situation of a man who should be very fleet of one leg but very lame of the other. He could not run; the lame leg would check and clog the well one, which would be very near useless.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I'm sending you the enclosed original from a mutual friend, along with my own comments on it; a text I've paraphrased and discussed so many times that I doubt I can say anything new. Nevertheless, I can't let it go until I'm more convinced that you truly understand its value, importance, and necessity; and not just understand, but also put it into practice. Your admirer appreciates you in a way that most fathers would be more than satisfied with in a son, and scolds me for not being content with merely "the essential good." But I, who have not been like other fathers in any way, cannot settle for just "the essential good" because I know it won't serve you well in the world as you need "a few layers of polish." Few fathers truly care for their sons, or at least most care more about their money. As a result, they settle for providing the standard, low-cost education: a school until eighteen, university until twenty, and a couple of years traveling through various towns in Europe, eager for their kids to return home to get married and, as they say, settled. Among those who genuinely love their sons, few know how to express that love. Some spoil them by pampering them when they're young and then argue with them as they grow up for being spoiled; some love them like mothers, only focusing on their physical health and strength, celebrating their birthdays, and rejoicing over their growth like subjects of the Great Mogul; while others, believing they're focusing on what's truly important, take pleasure in passing on their own quirks and flaws to their heirs. I hope and believe I have avoided all these mistakes in the education I've given you. No weaknesses of my own have distorted it, no stinginess has neglected it, and no harshness has warped it. Solid and extensive learning was the foundation I intended to provide—I have done so; but I knew that alone wouldn't be enough: the decorative, showy, and pleasing aspects needed to be added. With that in mind, I placed you in the real world, entirely your own master, at an age when others are either drinking at university or being sent abroad in servitude to some awkward, pompous Scottish governor. This was meant to set you on the path to acquiring the manners, charm, and graces that uniquely define fashionable people; without which all moral virtues and acquired knowledge are practically useless in the courts and high society. In fact, I'm not sure if they might not even be a hindrance. People are wary and put off by them in those social circles if they aren't softened and complemented by charm; yet, regarding this charm, it seems you're still missing "some layers." Now, let me ask you, calmly and seriously, "Why are these layers missing?" You can just as easily adopt them as you can choose to wear more or less powder in your hair or more or less lace on your coat. Therefore, I can only reason that your lack of them stems from not yet appreciating their full value. You've likely heard some English snobs say, "Damn these fancy foreign airs, give me a manly, bold manner. They create a fuss with their graces and talk like a bunch of dance instructors, and dress like a bunch of fools: one good Englishman can beat three of them." But let your own observations correct these misconceptions. I'll give you just one example instead of the countless others I could share, of someone who achieved a remarkable fortune and status based solely on charm, manners, and grace. Between you and me (this example shouldn’t go beyond us), what do you think made our friend, Lord A——e, a Colonel of a regiment, Governor of Virginia, Groom of the Stole, and Ambassador to Paris, with an annual income of sixteen or seventeen thousand pounds? Was it his birth? No, he was just a Dutch gentleman. Was it his estate? No, he had none. Was it his intellect, skills, or political acumen? You can answer these questions as easily and quickly as I can ask them. So what was it? Many people were baffled, but I’m not; I know, and I’ll tell you. It was his charm, his poise, his manners, and his grace. He won people over, and by winning them over, he became a favorite; and by becoming a favorite, he achieved everything he is now. Show me any example where true worth and merit, without the support of external charm, have elevated anyone so highly. You know the Duc de Richelieu, now ‘Marechal, Cordon bleu, Gentilhomme de la Chambre,’ twice Ambassador, etc. How did he achieve that? Not through the purity of his character, the depth of his knowledge, or any extraordinary insight. It was women who created and raised him. The Duchess of Burgundy took a liking to him before he was even sixteen years old; this brought him into high society. The late Regent’s eldest daughter, now Madame de Modene, took a liking to him next and almost married him. These early connections with high-status women gave him the manners, charm, and grace you see he possesses; and let me assure you, that’s all he has, for without them, he would be one of the poorest men in Europe. Neither man nor woman can resist an engaging exterior; it wins people over and makes its way. It seems you only need "a few layers"; for heaven's sake, don’t waste any time getting them; and now that you've come this far, finish the job. Focus on nothing else until that task is complete; relentless effort will accomplish anything. And surely, your energy can never be better spent than on that goal, which is absolutely necessary to facilitate all others. With your knowledge and abilities, if complemented by manners and grace, what might you aspire to be one day? But without them, you will be like a man who is very fast on one leg, but very lame on the other. He couldn’t run; the lame leg would hinder the good one, making it practically useless.
From my original plan for your education, I meant to make you ‘un homme universel’; what depends on me is executed, the little that remains undone depends singly upon you. Do not then disappoint, when you can so easily gratify me. It is your own interest which I am pressing you to pursue, and it is the only return that I desire for all the care and affection of, Yours.
From my original plan for your education, I intended to make you a "well-rounded person"; what I can control is done, and the little that’s left up to you. So please don’t let me down when it would be so simple to make me happy. I'm urging you to follow your own best interests, and it’s the only thing I ask in return for all my care and affection. Yours.
LETTER CLXVIII
LONDON, May 31, O. S. 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: The world is the book, and the only one to which, at present, I would have you apply yourself; and the thorough knowledge of it will be of more use to you, than all the books that ever were read. Lay aside the best book whenever you can go into the best company; and depend upon it, you change for the better. However, as the most tumultuous life, whether of business or pleasure, leaves some vacant moments every day, in which a book is the refuge of a rational being, I mean now to point out to you the method of employing those moments (which will and ought to be but few) in the most advantageous manner. Throw away none of your time upon those trivial, futile books, published by idle or necessitous authors, for the amusement of idle and ignorant readers; such sort of books swarm and buzz about one every day; flap them away, they have no sting. ‘Certum pete finem’, have some one object for those leisure moments, and pursue that object invariably till you have attained it; and then take some other. For instance, considering your destination, I would advise you to single out the most remarkable and interesting eras of modern history, and confine all your reading to that ERA. If you pitch upon the Treaty of Munster (and that is the proper period to begin with, in the course which I am now recommending), do not interrupt it by dipping and deviating into other books, unrelative to it; but consult only the most authentic histories, letters, memoirs, and negotiations, relative to that great transaction; reading and comparing them, with all that caution and distrust which Lord Bolingbroke recommends to you, in a better manner, and in better words than I can. The next period worth your particular knowledge, is the Treaty of the Pyrenees: which was calculated to lay, and in effect did lay, the succession of the House of Bourbon to the crown of Spain. Pursue that in the same manner, singling, out of the millions of volumes written upon that occasion, the two or three most authentic ones, and particularly letters, which are the best authorities in matters of negotiation. Next come the Treaties of Nimeguen and Ryswick, postscripts in, a manner to those of Munster and the Pyrenees. Those two transactions have had great light thrown upon them by the publication of many authentic and original letters and pieces. The concessions made at the Treaty of Ryswick, by the then triumphant Lewis the Fourteenth, astonished all those who viewed things only superficially; but, I should think, must have been easily accounted for by those who knew the state of the kingdom of Spain, as well as of the health of its King, Charles the Second, at that time. The interval between the conclusion of the peace of Ryswick, and the breaking out of the great war in 1702, though a short, is a most interesting one. Every week of it almost produced some great event. Two partition treaties, the death of the King of Spain, his unexpected will, and the acceptance of it by Lewis the Fourteenth, in violation of the second treaty of partition, just signed and ratified by him. Philip the Fifth quietly and cheerfully received in Spain, and acknowledged as King of it, by most of those powers, who afterward joined in an alliance to dethrone him. I cannot help making this observation upon that occasion: That character has often more to do in great transactions, than prudence and sound policy; for Lewis the Fourteenth gratified his personal pride, by giving a Bourbon King to Spain, at the expense of the true interest of France; which would have acquired much more solid and permanent strength by the addition of Naples, Sicily, and Lorraine, upon the footing of the second partition treaty; and I think it was fortunate for Europe that he preferred the will. It is true, he might hope to influence his Bourbon posterity in Spain; he knew too well how weak the ties of blood are among men, and how much weaker still they are among princes. The Memoirs of Count Harrach, and of Las Torres, give a good deal of light into the transactions of the Court of Spain, previous to the death of that weak King; and the Letters of the Marachal d’Harcourt, then the French Ambassador in Spain, of which I have authentic copies in manuscript, from the year 1698 to 1701, have cleared up that whole affair to me. I keep that book for you. It appears by those letters, that the impudent conduct of the House of Austria, with regard to the King and Queen of Spain, and Madame Berlips, her favorite, together with the knowledge of the partition treaty, which incensed all Spain, were the true and only reasons of the will, in favor of the Duke of Anjou. Cardinal Portocarrero, nor any of the Grandees, were bribed by France, as was generally reported and believed at that time; which confirms Voltaire’s anecdote upon that subject. Then opens a new scene and a new century; Lewis the Fourteenth’s good fortune forsakes him, till the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene make him amends for all the mischief they had done him, by making the allies refuse the terms of peace offered by him at Gertruydenberg. How the disadvantageous peace of Utrecht was afterward brought on, you have lately read; and you cannot inform yourself too minutely of all those circumstances, that treaty ‘being the freshest source from whence the late transactions of Europe have flowed. The alterations that have since happened, whether by wars or treaties, are so recent, that all the written accounts are to be helped out, proved, or contradicted, by the oral ones of almost every informed person, of a certain age or rank in life. For the facts, dates, and original pieces of this century, you will find them in Lamberti, till the year 1715, and after that time in Rousset’s ‘Recueil’.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The world is like a book, and it's the only one you should focus on right now; knowing it well will benefit you more than any book ever could. Set aside the best book whenever you have the chance to be with the best company; trust me, you'll only improve. However, even the busiest lives, whether for work or pleasure, leave some free moments each day, during which a book can be a refuge for a reasonable person. So, I want to show you how to make the most of those moments (which should be few) in the best way possible. Don't waste your time on trivial, useless books that are published by lazy or desperate authors for the entertainment of idle and ignorant readers; those kinds of books are everywhere, so brush them aside, they won’t benefit you. “Certum pete finem”, have a specific goal for your free time, and stick to that goal until you achieve it; then pick another one. For example, considering your purpose, I suggest you focus on the most significant and interesting periods of modern history and limit all your reading to that era. If you start with the Treaty of Munster (which is the right period to begin with for what I’m recommending), don’t interrupt it by jumping into other unrelated books; instead, refer only to the most reliable histories, letters, memoirs, and negotiations related to this important event; read and compare them with the caution and skepticism that Lord Bolingbroke advises you, in a much better way and with better words than I can. The next period worth your attention is the Treaty of the Pyrenees: which aimed to establish, and indeed did establish, the succession of the House of Bourbon to the Spanish crown. Follow that in the same way, selecting just two or three of the most reliable volumes among the countless written about it, especially letters, which are often the best sources for negotiation matters. Then there are the Treaties of Nimeguen and Ryswick, which serve as postscript to those of Munster and the Pyrenees. Many authentic and original letters and documents have shed significant light on those two events. The concessions made at the Treaty of Ryswick by the then victorious Louis the Fourteenth shocked those who only glanced at the surface; but I believe this can be easily explained by those who understood the conditions of the Spanish kingdom, as well as the health of its King, Charles the Second, at that time. The time between the end of the peace of Ryswick and the start of the great war in 1702, though short, is extremely interesting. Almost every week saw some major event. Two partition treaties, the death of the King of Spain, his unexpected will, and Louis the Fourteenth’s acceptance of that will, in violation of the second partition treaty, which he had just signed and ratified. Philip the Fifth was welcomed in Spain and recognized as its King by most of the powers that later formed an alliance to dethrone him. I can't help but make this observation on that occasion: that character often plays a greater role in significant events than prudence and sound policy; for Louis the Fourteenth satisfied his personal pride by giving Spain a Bourbon King, at the cost of France’s true interests, which would have gained much more solid and lasting strength by acquiring Naples, Sicily, and Lorraine as outlined in the second partition treaty; and I think it was fortunate for Europe that he chose to follow his will. It’s true he might have hoped to influence his Bourbon descendants in Spain; he knew all too well how weak the bonds of blood are among men, and how even weaker they are among princes. The Memoirs of Count Harrach and Las Torres provide significant insight into the affairs of the Spanish Court before the death of that fragile King; and the Letters of the Maréchal d'Harcourt, then the French Ambassador in Spain, which I have as authentic manuscript copies from 1698 to 1701, have clarified that entire situation for me. I keep that book for you. Those letters show that the shameless behavior of the House of Austria toward the King and Queen of Spain, and Madame Berlips, her favorite, along with the knowledge of the partition treaty that angered all of Spain, were the true and only reasons behind the will in favor of the Duke of Anjou. Cardinal Portocarrero and none of the Grandees were bribed by France, as was widely rumored and believed at that time; this confirms Voltaire’s anecdote on that subject. Then a new scene and a new century unfold; Louis the Fourteenth's good luck abandons him until the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene make him pay for all the damage they caused by persuading the allies to reject the peace terms he offered at Gertruydenberg. You have read how the unfavorable peace of Utrecht came to pass; and you can never be too detailed in understanding all those circumstances, as that treaty is the freshest source of the recent European events. The changes that have taken place since, whether through wars or treaties, are so recent that all written accounts should be supplemented, verified, or contradicted by the oral accounts of nearly every informed individual of a certain age or social status. For the facts, dates, and original documents of this century, you can find them in Lamberti until 1715, and after that in Rousset’s ‘Recueil’.
I do not mean that you should plod hours together in researches of this kind: no, you may employ your time more usefully: but I mean, that you should make the most of the moments you do employ, by method, and the pursuit of one single object at a time; nor should I call it a digression from that object, if when you meet with clashing and jarring pretensions of different princes to the same thing, you had immediately recourse to other books, in which those several pretensions were clearly stated; on the contrary, that is the only way of remembering those contested rights and claims: for, were a man to read ‘tout de suite’, Schwederus’s ‘Theatrum Pretensionum’, he would only be confounded by the variety, and remember none of them; whereas, by examining them occasionally, as they happen to occur, either in the course of your historical reading, or as they are agitated in your own times, you will retain them, by connecting them with those historical facts which occasioned your inquiry. For example, had you read, in the course of two or three folios of Pretensions, those, among others, of the two Kings of England and Prussia to Oost Frise, it is impossible, that you should have remembered them; but now, that they are become the debated object at the Diet at Ratisbon, and the topic of all political conversations, if you consult both books and persons concerning them, and inform yourself thoroughly, you will never forget them as long as you live. You will hear a great deal of them ow one side, at Hanover, and as much on the other side, afterward, at Berlin: hear both sides, and form your own opinion; but dispute with neither.
I don’t mean that you should spend endless hours researching this kind of thing: no, you can use your time more effectively. What I mean is that you should make the most of the moments you do spend on it by being methodical and focusing on one single topic at a time. I wouldn’t consider it a digression from that topic if, when you come across conflicting claims from different princes over the same issue, you immediately turn to other books where those various claims are clearly explained. In fact, that’s the best way to remember those disputed rights and claims. If someone were to read Schwederus’s ‘Theatrum Pretensionum’ all at once, they'd just be confused by the variety and wouldn’t remember any of it. But if you examine those claims as they come up—either in your historical reading or as they arise in your own time—you’ll retain them by linking them to the historical events that prompted your research. For example, if you read, in a couple of volumes on claims, about the two Kings of England and Prussia competing for Oost Frise, it’s unlikely you’d remember much. But now that this has become a heated topic at the Diet in Ratisbon and is a subject of discussion in all political circles, if you consult both books and talk to people about it and really educate yourself, you’ll never forget them for the rest of your life. You’ll hear a lot from one side in Hanover and then just as much from the other in Berlin: listen to both sides and form your own opinion, but argue with neither.
Letters from foreign ministers to their courts, and from their courts to them, are, if genuine, the best and most authentic records you can read, as far as they go. Cardinal d’Ossat’s, President Jeanin’s, D’Estrade’s, Sir William Temple’s, will not only inform your mind, but form your style; which, in letters of business, should be very plain and simple, but, at the same time, exceedingly clear, correct, and pure.
Letters from foreign ministers to their governments, and from their governments to them, are, if genuine, the best and most authentic records you can read, as far as they go. Cardinal d’Ossat’s, President Jeanin’s, D’Estrade’s, Sir William Temple’s, will not only inform your mind but also shape your style; which, in business letters, should be very straightforward and simple, but at the same time, exceptionally clear, accurate, and refined.
All that I have said may be reduced to these two or three plain principles: 1st, That you should now read very little, but converse a great deal; 2d, To read no useless, unprofitable books; and 3d, That those which you do read, may all tend to a certain object, and be relative to, and consequential of each other. In this method, half an hour’s reading every day will carry you a great way. People seldom know how to employ their time to the best advantage till they have too little left to employ; but if, at your age, in the beginning of life, people would but consider the value of it, and put every moment to interest, it is incredible what an additional fund of knowledge and pleasure such an economy would bring in. I look back with regret upon that large sum of time, which, in my youth, I lavished away idly, without either improvement or pleasure. Take warning betimes, and enjoy every moment; pleasures do not commonly last so long as life, and therefore should not be neglected; and the longest life is too short for knowledge, consequently every moment is precious.
Everything I’ve said can be summarized in two or three straightforward principles: 1st, you should focus on speaking and discussing a lot rather than reading much; 2nd, avoid reading useless or unhelpful books; and 3rd, ensure that everything you read has a purpose and connects with each other. With this approach, just half an hour of reading every day can take you far. People often don’t realize how to use their time effectively until there’s very little of it left; but if, at your age and at the start of your life, you consider the value of time and make the most of every moment, it’s amazing how much more knowledge and joy you could gain. I look back with regret at all the time I wasted in my youth without gaining anything or enjoying myself. Learn from this early, and cherish every moment; pleasures usually don’t last as long as life does, so they shouldn’t be overlooked, and even the longest life is too short for knowledge, making every moment valuable.
I am surprised at having received no letter from you since you left Paris. I still direct this to Strasburgh, as I did my two last. I shall direct my next to the post house at Mayence, unless I receive, in the meantime, contrary instructions from you. Adieu. Remember les attentions: they must be your passports into good company.
I’m surprised that I haven’t gotten any letters from you since you left Paris. I’m still sending this to Strasbourg, like I did with my last two. I’ll send my next one to the post office in Mainz unless I hear otherwise from you in the meantime. Goodbye. Don’t forget the courtesies; they’ll be your tickets to good company.
LETTER CLXIX
LONDON, June, O. S. 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Very few celebrated negotiators have been eminent for their learning. The most famous French negotiators (and I know no nation that can boast of abler) have been military men, as Monsieur d’Harcourt, Comte d’Estrades, Marechal d’Uxelles, and others. The late Duke of Marlborough, who was at least as able a negotiator as a general, was exceedingly ignorant of books, but extremely knowing in men, whereas the learned Grotius appeared, both in Sweden and in France, to be a very bungling minister. This is, in my opinion, very easily to be accounted for. A man of very deep learning must have employed the greatest part of his time in books; and a skillful negotiator must necessarily have employed much the greater part of his time with man. The sound scholar, when dragged out of his dusty closet into business, acts by book, and deals with men as he has read of them; not as he has known them by experience: he follows Spartan and Roman precedents, in what he falsely imagines to be similar cases; whereas two cases never were, since the beginning of the world, exactly alike; and he would be capable, where he thought spirit and vigor necessary, to draw a circle round the persons he treated with, and to insist upon a categorical answer before they went out of it, because he had read, in the Roman history, that once upon a time some Roman ambassador, did so. No; a certain degree of learning may help, but no degree of learning will ever make a skillful minister whereas a great knowledge of the world, of the characters, passions, and habits of mankind, has, without one grain of learning, made a thousand. Military men have seldom much knowledge of books; their education does not allow it; but what makes great amends for that want is, that they generally know a great deal of the world; they are thrown into it young; they see variety of nations and characters; and they soon find, that to rise, which is the aim of them all, they must first please: these concurrent causes almost always give them manners and politeness. In consequence of which, you see them always distinguished at courts, and favored by the women. I could wish that you had been of an age to have made a campaign or two as a volunteer. It would have given you an attention, a versatility, and an alertness; all which I doubt you want; and a great want it is.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Very few well-known negotiators have stood out for their knowledge. The most notable French negotiators (and I can't think of any country that can claim better) have been military leaders, like Monsieur d’Harcourt, Comte d’Estrades, Marechal d’Uxelles, among others. The late Duke of Marlborough, who was as skilled in negotiation as he was in warfare, was quite uneducated in books but had a strong understanding of people. In contrast, the learned Grotius seemed to struggle significantly as a minister in both Sweden and France. I believe this can be easily explained. A person with deep academic knowledge likely spends most of their time with books, while a skilled negotiator must spend most of their time interacting with people. When a serious scholar is pulled from their dusty study into real-world situations, they operate based on what they’ve read and see others as they’ve only learned about through theory. They try to apply Spartan and Roman examples to what they mistakenly think are similar situations, even though no two situations have ever been exactly alike throughout history. They might even expect to control conversations to the point of demanding straightforward answers before anyone leaves, just because they read about some Roman ambassador who did that once. No, some level of learning can be beneficial, but no amount of learning can ever make someone a skilled minister. In contrast, a strong understanding of the world, people’s characters, emotions, and behaviors has created many skilled negotiators without any formal education. Military leaders often don’t have much book knowledge; their training doesn’t focus on it. However, they usually compensate for that by gaining extensive real-world experience. They are immersed in diverse cultures and personalities from a young age and quickly learn that to succeed, which is everyone's goal, they must first gain approval. These combined factors often equip them with good manners and politeness. As a result, you’ll find they stand out at courts and are favored by women. I wish you had been at an age where you could have spent a campaign or two as a volunteer. It would have given you greater focus, flexibility, and readiness—qualities I fear you lack, and that’s a significant deficiency.
A foreign minister has not great business to transact every day; so that his knowledge and his skill in negotiating are not frequently put to the trial; but he has that to do every day, and every hour of the day, which is necessary to prepare and smooth the way for his business; that is, to insinuate himself by his manners, not only into the houses, but into the confidence of the most considerable people of that place; to contribute to their pleasures, and insensibly not to be looked upon as a stranger himself. A skillful minister may very possibly be doing his master’s business full as well, in doing the honors gracefully and genteelly of a ball or a supper, as if he were laboriously writing a protocol in his closet. The Marechal d’Harcourt, by his magnificence, his manners, and his politeness, blunted the edge of the long aversion which the Spaniards had to the French. The court and the grandees were personally fond, of him, and frequented his house; and were at least insensibly brought to prefer a French to a German yoke; which I am convinced would never have happened, had Comte d’Harrach been Marechal d’Harcourt, or the Marechal d’Harcourt Comte d’Harrach. The Comte d’Estrades had, by ‘ses manieres polies et liantes’, formed such connections, and gained such an interest in the republic of the United Provinces, that Monsieur De Witt, the then Pensionary of Holland, often applied to him to use his interest with his friend, both in Holland and the other provinces, whenever he (De Witt) had a difficult point which he wanted to carry. This was certainly not brought about by his knowledge of books, but of men: dancing, fencing, and riding, with a little military architecture, were no doubt the top of his education; and if he knew that ‘collegium’ in Latin signified college in French, it must have been by accident. But he knew what was more useful: from thirteen years old he had been in the great world, and had read men and women so long, that he could then read them at sight.
A foreign minister doesn't have a lot of urgent business to handle every day, so his knowledge and skills in negotiation aren’t tested often. However, he has to consistently prepare and make connections throughout each day. This means ingratiating himself into both the homes and the trust of the most important people in the area; contributing to their enjoyment, and gradually not being seen as a stranger. A skilled minister might do just as well for his boss by hosting a ball or dinner elegantly as he would by painstakingly drafting a protocol in his office. The Marechal d’Harcourt, through his grandeur, charm, and politeness, softened the long-standing dislike the Spaniards had for the French. The court and the nobility personally liked him and visited his home, and they were at least subtly led to prefer a French influence over a German one, which I’m sure wouldn’t have happened if Comte d’Harrach had been Marechal d’Harcourt or vice versa. The Comte d’Estrades had built such connections and gained such influence in the United Provinces that Monsieur De Witt, then the Pensionary of Holland, frequently asked him to use his contacts both in Holland and other provinces whenever he faced a challenging issue. This influence wasn’t due to his academic knowledge, but rather his understanding of people: dancing, fencing, and riding, along with some military architecture, were likely the extent of his formal education; if he happened to know that ‘collegium’ in Latin means college in French, it was probably just by chance. But he understood something far more valuable: from the age of thirteen, he had been in the real world and had observed men and women for so long that he could read them at a glance.
Talking the other day, upon this and other subjects, all relative to you, with one who knows and loves you very well, and expressing my anxiety and wishes that your exterior accomplishments, as a man of fashion, might adorn, and at least equal your intrinsic merit as a man of sense and honor, the person interrupted me, and said: Set your heart at rest; that never will or can happen. It is not in character; that gentleness, that ‘douceur’, those attentions which you wish him to have, are not in his nature; and do what you will, nay, let him do what he will, he can never acquire them. Nature may be a little disguised and altered by care; but can by no means whatsoever be totally forced and changed. I denied this principle to a certain degree; but admitting, however, that in many respects our nature was not to be changed; and asserting, at the same time, that in others it might by care be very much altered and improved, so as in truth to be changed; that I took those exterior accomplishments, which we had been talking of, to be mere modes, and absolutely depending upon the will, and upon custom; and that, therefore, I was convinced that your good sense, which must show you the importance of them, would make you resolve at all events to acquire them, even in spite of nature, if nature be in the case. Our dispute, which lasted a great while, ended as Voltaire observes that disputes in England are apt to do, in a wager of fifty guineas; which I myself am to decide upon honor, and of which this is a faithful copy. If you think I shall win it, you may go my halves if you please; declare yourself in time. This I declare, that I would most cheerfully give a thousand guineas to win those fifty; you may secure them me if you please.
The other day, while talking about you and a few other things with someone who knows and cares about you a lot, I shared my worries and hopes that your style and achievements as a fashionable man would match at least your true worth as a person of intelligence and integrity. The person interrupted me and said, "Don't worry; that will never happen." They explained that it's just not in his character; that gentleness, that kindness, those little attentions you want him to have, are simply not part of his nature. No matter what, he won't be able to develop them. Nature might be slightly masked or altered by experience, but it can't be completely forced or changed. I disagreed to some extent, but I also acknowledged that while many aspects of our nature can't be altered, some can definitely be improved and changed through effort. I argued that the external accomplishments we were discussing are just styles that depend entirely on will and social practice. Therefore, I was convinced that your good sense, which has to recognize their importance, would make you determined to develop them, even against any natural tendencies. Our debate, which went on for quite a while, ended as Voltaire suggests disputes in England often do: with a wager of fifty guineas, which I have to settle on good faith, and here’s the official record of it. If you think I’ll win, you can share the bet with me; just let me know in time. I’ll say this: I would gladly pay a thousand guineas to win those fifty; you can help me secure them if you want.
I grow very impatient for your future letters from the several courts of Manheim, Bonn, Hanover, etc. And I desire that your letters may be to me, what I do not desire they should be to anybody else, I mean full of yourself. Let the egotism, a figure which upon all other occasions I detest, be your only one to me. Trifles that concern you are not trifles to me; and my knowledge of them may possibly be useful to you. Adieu. ‘Les graces, les graces, les graces’.
I’m really looking forward to your upcoming letters from the different courts of Manheim, Bonn, Hanover, etc. I hope your letters are exactly what I want and not for anyone else, meaning they should be full of your thoughts and experiences. Normally, I can’t stand egotism, but I want it to be your only focus with me. Things that seem trivial to you aren’t trivial to me; knowing about them might actually be helpful for you. Goodbye. 'The graces, the graces, the graces.'
LETTER CLXX
LONDON, June 23, O. S. 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: I direct this letter to Mayence, where I think it is likely to meet you, supposing, as I do, that you stayed three weeks at Manheim, after the date of your last from thence; but should you have stayed longer at Manheim, to which I have no objection, it will wait for you at Mayence. Mayence will not, I believe, have charms to detain you above a week; so that I reckon you will be at Bonn at the end of July, N. S. There you may stay just as little or as long as you please, and then proceed to Hanover.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I’m sending this letter to Mainz, where I expect to find you, thinking, as I do, that you stayed three weeks in Mannheim after your last letter from there; but if you’ve stayed longer in Mannheim, which I don’t mind at all, it will be waiting for you in Mainz. I don't think Mainz will hold your interest for more than a week, so I estimate you’ll be in Bonn by the end of July, N.S. You can stay in Bonn for as little or as long as you want, and then you can head to Hanover.
I had a letter by the last post from a relation of mine at Hanover, Mr. Stanhope Aspinwall, who is in the Duke of Newcastle’s office, and has lately been appointed the King’s Minister to the Dey of Algiers; a post which, notwithstanding your views of foreign affairs, I believe you do not envy him. He tells me in that letter, there are very good lodgings to be had at one Mrs. Meyers’s, the next door to the Duke of Newcastle’s, which he offers to take for you; I have desired him to do it, in case Mrs. Meyers will wait for you till the latter end of August, or the beginning of September, N. S., which I suppose is about the time when you will be at Hanover. You will find this Mr. Aspinwall of great use to you there. He will exert himself to the utmost to serve you; he has been twice or thrice at Hanover, and knows all the allures there: he is very well with the Duke of Newcastle, and will puff you there. Moreover, if you have a mind to work there as a volunteer in that bureau, he will assist and inform you. In short, he is a very honest, sensible, and informed man; ‘mais me paye pas beaucoup de sa figure; il abuse meme du privilege qu’ont les hommes d’etre laids; et il ne sera pas en reste avec les lions et les leopards qu’il trouvera a Alger’.
I received a letter in the last mail from a relative of mine in Hanover, Mr. Stanhope Aspinwall, who works in the Duke of Newcastle’s office and has recently been appointed the King’s Minister to the Dey of Algiers; a position that, despite your views on foreign affairs, I believe you don’t envy him for. In that letter, he mentions there are really good accommodations available at Mrs. Meyers’s, right next to the Duke of Newcastle’s, which he offers to secure for you; I’ve asked him to do it, as long as Mrs. Meyers can wait for you until late August or early September, New Style, which I assume is around when you’ll be in Hanover. You’ll find Mr. Aspinwall very helpful to you there. He will do everything he can to assist you; he has been to Hanover two or three times and knows all the ins and outs there: he’s on good terms with the Duke of Newcastle and will promote you there. Furthermore, if you’re interested in working as a volunteer in that office, he’ll help and guide you. In short, he’s a very honest, sensible, and knowledgeable man; ‘mais me paye pas beaucoup de sa figure; il abuse meme du privilege qu’ont les hommes d’etre laids; et il ne sera pas en reste avec les lions et les leopards qu’il trouvera a Alger’.
As you are entirely master of the time when you will leave Bonn and go to Hanover, so are you master to stay at Hanover as long as you please, and to go from thence where you please; provided that at Christmas you are at Berlin, for the beginning of the Carnival: this I would not have you say at Hanover, considering the mutual disposition of those two courts; but when anybody asks you where you are to go next, say that you propose rambling in Germany, at Brunswick, Cassel, etc., till the next spring; when you intend to be in Flanders, in your way to England. I take Berlin, at this time, to be the politest, the most shining, and the most useful court in Europe for a young fellow to be at: and therefore I would upon no account not have you there, for at least a couple of months of the Carnival. If you are as well received, and pass your time as well at Bonn as I believe you will, I would advise you to remain there till about the 20th of August, N. S., in four days you will be at Hanover. As for your stay there, it must be shorter or longer, according to certain circumstances WHICH YOU KNOW OF; supposing them, at the best, then, stay within a week or ten days of the King’s return to England; but supposing them at the worst, your stay must not be too short, for reasons which you also know; no resentment must either appear or be suspected; therefore, at worst, I think you must remain there a month, and at best, as long as ever you please. But I am convinced that all will turn out very well for you there. Everybody is engaged or inclined to help you; the ministers, English and German, the principal ladies, and most of the foreign ministers; so that I may apply to you, ‘nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia’. Du Perron will, I believe, be back there from Turin much about the time you get there: pray be very attentive to him, and connect yourself with him as much as ever you can; for, besides that he is a very pretty and well-informed man, he is very much in fashion at Hanover, is personally very well with the King and certain ladies; so that a visible intimacy and connection with him will do you credit and service. Pray cultivate Monsieur Hop, the Dutch minister, who has always been very much my friend, and will, I am sure, be yours; his manners, it is true, are not very engaging; he is rough, but he is sincere. It is very useful sometimes to see the things which one ought to avoid, as it is right to see very often those which one ought to imitate, and my friend Hop’s manners will frequently point out to you, what yours ought to be by the rule of contraries.
Since you have complete control over when you leave Bonn for Hanover, you can also decide how long to stay in Hanover and where to go next. Just make sure to be in Berlin by Christmas for the start of Carnival. I wouldn’t recommend mentioning this in Hanover because of the relationship between the two courts. If anyone asks about your next plans, tell them you plan to travel around Germany to places like Brunswick, Cassel, etc., until spring, when you plan to head to Flanders on your way to England. Right now, I think Berlin is the most polite, vibrant, and beneficial court in Europe for a young man, so I really want you to be there for at least a couple of months during Carnival. If you have a good reception and enjoy your time in Bonn as I expect, I’d suggest you stay there until around August 20, N.S., and then you’ll be in Hanover in four days. Your stay there can be shorter or longer based on certain conditions YOU’RE AWARE OF; assuming the best scenario, try to stay for about a week or ten days before the King returns to England. But if things go poorly, don’t stay too briefly for reasons you also know; you must not show any resentment or have it suspected. Therefore, in the worst case, you should stay about a month, and in the best case, as long as you like. I’m confident everything will work out well for you. Everyone is eager to help, including both English and German ministers, key ladies, and most foreign ministers, so I can say to you, ‘there’s no lack of divine assistance if there’s prudence.’ I believe Du Perron will return from Turin around the same time you arrive, so please pay close attention to him and try to connect with him as much as you can. He’s quite charming and knowledgeable, and he’s currently popular at Hanover, well-liked by the King and some ladies, so having a visible connection with him will benefit you. Also, please foster a good relationship with Monsieur Hop, the Dutch minister, who has always been a great friend of mine and I’m sure will be yours too. His demeanor may not be very appealing; he’s a bit rough around the edges but sincere. It’s useful to sometimes observe behaviors to avoid, just as it’s important to see behaviors to emulate, and my friend Hop’s mannerisms will often show you what yours should be by contrasting examples.
Congreve points out a sort of critics, to whom he says that we are doubly obliged:—
Congreve highlights a certain type of critic, whom he claims we are doubly indebted to:—
“Rules for good writing they with pains indite,
Then show us what is bad, by what they write.”
“They carefully lay out the rules for good writing, then demonstrate what’s wrong by how they write.”
It is certain that Monsieur Hop, with the best heart in the world, and a thousand good qualities, has a thousand enemies, and hardly a friend; simply from the roughness of his manners.
It’s clear that Monsieur Hop, having the kindest heart and countless good qualities, has a lot of enemies and barely any friends, all because of his harsh behavior.
N. B. I heartily wish you could have stayed long enough at Manheim to have been seriously and desperately in love with Madame de Taxis; who, I suppose, is a proud, insolent, fine lady, and who would consequently have expected attentions little short of adoration: nothing would do you more good than such a passion; and I live in hopes that somebody or other will be able to excite such an one in you; your hour may not yet be come, but it will come. Love has not been unaptly compared to the smallpox which most people have sooner or later. Iphigenia had a wonderful effect upon Cimon; I wish some Hanover Iphigenia may try her skill upon you.
N. B. I really wish you could have stayed long enough in Manheim to fall deeply and desperately in love with Madame de Taxis; who, I imagine, is a proud, arrogant, elegant lady, and would definitely have expected attention that was almost like worship: nothing would benefit you more than such a passion; and I hope that someone will be able to spark that kind of feeling in you; your time may not have come yet, but it will come. Love is often compared to smallpox, which most people catch sooner or later. Iphigenia had a remarkable effect on Cimon; I hope some Hanover Iphigenia can work her magic on you.
I recommend to you again, though I have already done it twice or thrice, to speak German, even affectedly, while you are at Hanover; which will show that you prefer that language, and be of more use to you there with SOMEBODY, than you can imagine. When you carry my letters to Monsieur Munchausen and Monsieur Schwiegeldt, address yourself to them in German; the latter speaks French very well, but the former extremely ill. Show great attention to Madame, Munchausen’s daughter, who is a great favorite; those little trifles please mothers, and sometimes fathers, extremely. Observe, and you will find, almost universally, that the least things either please or displease most; because they necessarily imply, either a very strong desire of obliging, or an unpardonable indifference about it. I will give you a ridiculous instance enough of this truth, from my own experience. When I was Ambassador the first time in Holland, Comte de Wassenaer and his wife, people of the first rank and consideration, had a little boy of about three years old, of whom they were exceedingly fond; in order to make my court to them, I was so too, and used to take the child often upon my lap, and play with him. One day his nose was very dirty, upon which I took out my handkerchief and wiped it for him; this raised a loud laugh, and they called me a very, handy nurse; but the father and mother were so pleased with it, that to this day it is an anecdote in the family, and I never receive a letter from Comte Wassenaer, but he makes me the compliments ‘du morveux gue j’ai mouche autrefois’; who, by the way, I am assured, is now the prettiest young fellow in Holland. Where one would gain people, remember that nothing is little. Adieu.
I recommend again, even though I've already mentioned it a couple of times, that you speak German, even if it feels forced, while you're in Hanover. This will show that you prefer that language and will be more useful to you there with SOMEONE than you might think. When you deliver my letters to Monsieur Munchausen and Monsieur Schwiegeldt, address them in German; the latter speaks French very well, but the former not at all. Pay special attention to Madame, Munchausen's daughter, who is quite a favorite; little gestures like that please mothers, and sometimes fathers, a lot. You'll notice that usually, small things either make people happy or upset them because they either show a strong desire to please or a completely unforgivable indifference. I'll give you a funny example of this from my own experience. When I was the ambassador in Holland for the first time, Comte de Wassenaer and his wife, who were of the highest rank and significance, had a little boy around three years old that they adored. To win their favor, I did too, and often held the child on my lap and played with him. One day his nose was really dirty, so I took out my handkerchief and wiped it for him; that got a big laugh, and they called me a great nurse. But the parents were so pleased with it that to this day it's a family anecdote, and I never receive a letter from Comte Wassenaer without him complimenting me for ‘the little brat I wiped his nose for’; by the way, I’ve heard he’s now the most handsome young man in Holland. When it comes to winning people over, remember that nothing is ever too small. Goodbye.
LETTER CLXXI
LONDON, June 26, O. S. 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: As I have reason to fear, from your M last letter of the 18th, N. S., from Manheim, that all, or at least most of my letters to you, since you left Paris, have miscarried; I think it requisite, at all events, to repeat in this the necessary parts of those several letters, as far as they relate to your future motions.
MY DEAR FRIEND: From your last letter dated the 18th, N. S., from Manheim, I have reason to believe that all, or at least most, of my letters to you since you left Paris haven't reached you. I think it's important to reiterate the essential parts of those letters here, especially regarding your future plans.
I suppose that this will either find you, or be but a few days before you at Bonn, where it is directed; and I suppose too, that you have fixed your time for going from thence to Hanover. If things TURN OUT WELL AT HANOVER, as in my opinion they will, ‘Chi sta bene non si muova’, stay there till a week or ten days before the King sets out for England; but, should THEY TURN OUT ILL, which I cannot imagine, stay, however, a month, that your departure may not seem a step of discontent or peevishness; the very suspicion of which is by all means to be avoided. Whenever you leave Hanover, be it sooner or be it later, where would you go? ‘Lei Padrone’, and I give you your choice: would you pass the months of November and December at Brunswick, Cassel, etc.? Would you choose to go for a couple of months to Ratisbon, where you would be very well recommended to, and treated by the King’s Electoral Minister, the Baron de Behr, and where you would improve your ‘Jus publicum’? or would you rather go directly to Berlin, and stay there till the end of the Carnival? Two or three months at Berlin are, considering all circumstances, necessary for you; and the Carnival months are the best; ‘pour le reste decidez en dernier ressort, et sans appel comme d’abus’. Let me know your decree, when you have formed it. Your good or ill success at Hanover will have a very great influence upon your subsequent character, figure, and fortune in the world; therefore I confess that I am more anxious about it, than ever bride was on her wedding night, when wishes, hopes, fears, and doubts, tumultuously agitate, please, and terrify her. It is your first crisis: the character which you will acquire there will, more or less, be that which will abide by you for the rest of your life. You will be tried and judged there, not as a boy, but as a man; and from that moment there is no appeal for character; it is fixed. To form that character advantageously, you have three objects particularly to attend to: your character as a man of morality, truth, and honor; your knowledge in the objects of your destination, as a man of business; and your engaging and insinuating address, air and manners, as a courtier; the sure and only steps to favor.
I guess this will either reach you or be just a few days before you arrive in Bonn, where it’s sent. I assume you’ve also planned your trip from there to Hanover. If things go well in Hanover, which I believe they will, “Chi sta bene non si muova”—stay there until a week or ten days before the King leaves for England. But if things don’t go well, which I can’t imagine, then stay for at least a month so that your departure doesn't seem like a sign of discontent or irritation; even the hint of that should be avoided at all costs. Whenever you leave Hanover, whether it’s sooner or later, where will you go? “Lei Padrone,” and I give you your choice: would you like to spend November and December in Brunswick, Cassel, etc.? Would you prefer to go to Ratisbon for a couple of months, where you’d be very well received by the King's Electoral Minister, the Baron de Behr, and where you could enhance your knowledge in “Jus publicum”? Or would you rather head straight to Berlin and stay there until the end of the Carnival? Spending two or three months in Berlin is essential, considering everything, and the Carnival season is the best time for that; “pour le reste decidez en dernier ressort, et sans appel comme d’abus.” Let me know your decision once you’ve made it. Your success or failure in Hanover will greatly impact your future reputation, status, and fortune in life; so I admit, I’m more anxious about it than any bride on her wedding night, with all her wishes, hopes, fears, and doubts swirling around her, both exciting and terrifying. This is your first major test: the reputation you build there will largely be the one you carry for the rest of your life. You will be evaluated and judged there, not as a boy, but as a man; and from that point on, your character is set—there's no going back. To establish that character in a positive way, you particularly need to focus on three areas: your reputation as a man of integrity, truth, and honor; your knowledge relevant to your goals as a businessman; and your charming and appealing demeanor, presence, and manners as a courtier—the sure and only paths to gaining favor.
Merit at courts, without favor, will do little or nothing; favor, without merit, will do a good deal; but favor and merit together will do everything. Favor at courts depends upon so many, such trifling, such unexpected, and unforeseen events, that a good courtier must attend to every circumstance, however little, that either does, or can happen; he must have no absences, no DISTRACTIONS; he must not say, “I did not mind it; who would have thought it?” He ought both to have minded, and to have thought it. A chamber-maid has sometimes caused revolutions in courts which have produced others in kingdoms. Were I to make my way to favor in a court, I would neither willfully, nor by negligence, give a dog or a cat there reason to dislike me. Two ‘pies grieches’, well instructed, you know, made the fortune of De Luines with Lewis XIII. Every step a man makes at court requires as much attention and circumspection, as those which were made formerly between hot plowshares, in the Ordeal, or fiery trials; which, in those times of ignorance and superstition, were looked upon as demonstrations of innocence or guilt. Direct your principal battery, at Hanover, at the D of N ‘s: there are many very weak places in that citadel; where, with a very little skill, you cannot fail making a great impression. Ask for his orders in everything you do; talk Austrian and Anti-gallican to him; and, as soon as you are upon a foot of talking easily to him, tell him ‘en badinant’, that his skill and success in thirty or forty elections in England leave you no reason to doubt of his carrying his election for Frankfort; and that you look upon the Archduke as his Member for the Empire. In his hours of festivity and compotation, drop that he puts you in mind of what Sir William Temple says of the Pensionary De Witt,—who at that time governed half Europe,—that he appeared at balls, assemblies, and public places, as if he had nothing else to do or to think of. When he talks to you upon foreign affairs, which he will often do, say that you really cannot presume to give any opinion of your own upon those matters, looking upon yourself at present only as a postscript to the corps diplomatique; but that, if his Grace will be pleased to make you an additional volume to it, though but in duodecimo, you will do your best that he shall neither be ashamed nor repent of it. He loves to have a favorite, and to open himself to that favorite. He has now no such person with him; the place is vacant, and if you have dexterity you may fill it. In one thing alone do not humor him; I mean drinking; for, as I believe, you have never yet been drunk, you do not yourself know how you can bear your wine, and what a little too much of it may make you do or say; you might possibly kick down all you had done before.
Merit alone in courts, without any favoritism, will achieve little or nothing; favoritism without merit can achieve a lot; but when merit and favoritism come together, they can accomplish everything. Favor at courts relies on many factors, often trivial, unexpected, and unforeseen events, so a savvy courtier must pay attention to every detail, no matter how small, that occurs or could occur; they can't afford to be absent or distracted; they shouldn't say, “I didn’t think about it; who would have guessed?” They should have been mindful and aware. Sometimes a chambermaid has sparked revolutions at court that led to changes in entire kingdoms. If I wanted to gain favor in court, I wouldn't intentionally or carelessly give anyone—be it a dog or a cat—reason to dislike me. Two well-trained ‘pies grieches’ solidified De Luines’ fortune with Louis XIII. Every move you make at court requires as much attention and caution as those once taken between hot plowshares during trials of fire, which at that time were seen as proof of innocence or guilt. Focus your main efforts at Hanover, specifically at the Duke of N’s; there are many weak spots in that citadel where, with a little skill, you can make a significant impact. Always ask for his direction in everything you do; speak with him about Austrian or Anti-French matters; and as soon as you can chat casually, let him know playfully that his skill and success in thirty or forty elections in England give you no doubt about him winning his election for Frankfurt, and that you see the Archduke as his member for the Empire. During his times of celebration and drinks, mention that he reminds you of what Sir William Temple said about the Pensionary De Witt—who at that time was governing half of Europe—about how he appeared at balls, assemblies, and public events as if he had nothing else to do or think about. When he brings up foreign affairs, which he will often do, say that you really can't presume to offer your own opinion on such matters, considering yourself just a footnote to the diplomatic corps; but if his Grace would make you an additional volume, even just a small one, you'll do your utmost to ensure he won’t be ashamed or regret it. He enjoys having a favorite and sharing his thoughts with that favored person. He currently doesn’t have such a person; that spot is open, and if you’re clever, you might fill it. However, do not indulge him when it comes to drinking; because, as I believe you’ve never been drunk, you don’t really know how much you can handle and what a little too much might cause you to do or say; you could end up undoing all your previous efforts.
You do not love gaming, and I thank God for it; but at Hanover I would have you show, and profess a particular dislike to play, so as to decline it upon all occasions, unless where one may be wanted to make a fourth at whist or quadrille; and then take care to declare it the result of your complaisance, not of your inclinations. Without such precaution you may very possibly be suspected, though unjustly, of loving play, upon account of my former passion for it; and such a suspicion would do you a great deal of hurt, especially with the King, who detests gaming. I must end this abruptly. God bless you!
You don’t love gaming, and I’m really thankful for that; but at Hanover, I’d like you to show and express a strong dislike for playing, so you can turn it down in every situation, unless someone needs a fourth for whist or quadrille. In that case, just make sure to say it’s for the sake of being polite, not because you actually enjoy it. If you don’t take this precaution, people might wrongly think you love to play because of my past passion for it, and that false impression could really hurt you, especially with the King, who hates gaming. I have to wrap this up quickly. God bless you!
LETTER CLXXII
MY DEAR FRIEND: Versatility as a courtier may be almost decisive to you hereafter; that is, it may conduce to, or retard your preferment in your own destination. The first reputation goes a great way; and if you fix a good one at Hanover, it will operate also to your advantage in England. The trade of a courtier is as much a trade as that of a shoemaker; and he who applies himself the most, will work the best: the only difficulty is to distinguish (what I am sure you have sense enough to distinguish) between the right and proper qualifications and their kindred faults; for there is but a line between every perfection and its neighboring imperfection. As, for example, you must be extremely well-bred and polite, but without the troublesome forms and stiffness of ceremony. You must be respectful and assenting, but without being servile and abject. You must be frank, but without indiscretion; and close, without being costive. You must keep up dignity of character, without the least pride of birth or rank. You must be gay within all the bounds of decency and respect; and grave without the affectation of wisdom, which does not become the age of twenty. You must be essentially secret, without being dark and mysterious. You must be firm, and even bold, but with great seeming modesty.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Being adaptable as a courtier could be crucial for your future; in other words, it can help or hinder your advancement in your chosen path. Your initial reputation carries a lot of weight, and if you establish a good one in Hanover, it will also benefit you in England. The role of a courtier is just as much a profession as that of a shoemaker; and those who put in the most effort will excel. The challenge is to recognize (which I’m sure you’re capable of) the right and proper qualities and their related flaws, as there’s often a fine line between each strength and its neighboring weakness. For instance, you need to be very well-mannered and courteous, but without the annoying forms and stiffness of ceremony. You should be respectful and agreeable, but not submissive or servile. You must be honest without being indiscreet, and reserved without being overly secretive. It’s important to maintain your dignity without any pretentiousness about your background or status. You should be cheerful within the boundaries of decency and respect, and serious without trying to appear wise, which doesn't suit someone your age. You must be fundamentally discreet, without being obscure or enigmatic. You should be resolute and even bold, but with a strong sense of humility.
With these qualifications, which, by the way, are all in your own power, I will answer for your success, not only at Hanover, but at any court in Europe. And I am not sorry that you begin your apprenticeship at a little one; because you must be more circumspect, and more upon your guard there, than at a great one, where every little thing is not known nor reported.
With these skills, which, by the way, you can develop yourself, I guarantee your success, not just in Hanover, but at any court in Europe. I'm actually glad you're starting your apprenticeship at a smaller court; you have to be much more careful and vigilant there than at a bigger one, where not every little thing is noticed or reported.
When you write to me, or to anybody else, from thence, take care that your letters contain commendations of all that you see and hear there; for they will most of them be opened and read; but, as frequent couriers will come from Hanover to England, you may sometimes write to me without reserve; and put your letters into a very little box, which you may send safely by some of them.
When you write to me, or anyone else from there, make sure your letters praise everything you see and hear; most of them will be opened and read. However, since frequent messengers come from Hanover to England, you can sometimes write to me openly and send your letters in a small box, which you can safely send with some of them.
I must not omit mentioning to you, that at the Duke of Newcastle’s table, where you will frequently dine, there is a great deal of drinking; be upon your guard against it, both upon account of your health, which would not bear it, and of the consequences of your being flustered and heated with wine: it might engage you in scrapes and frolics, which the King (who is a very sober man himself) detests. On the other hand, you should not seem too grave and too wise to drink like the rest of the company; therefore use art: mix water with your wine; do not drink all that is in the glass; and if detected, and pressed to drink more do not cry out sobriety; but say that you have lately been out of order, that you are subject to inflammatory complaints, and that you must beg to be excused for the present. A young fellow ought to be wiser than he should seem to be; and an old fellow ought to seem wise whether he really’ be so or not.
I must mention that at the Duke of Newcastle’s table, where you will often eat, there is a lot of drinking; be careful about it, both for your health, which can’t handle it, and because being drunk could lead to trouble and antics that the King (who is very straight-laced) dislikes. On the flip side, don’t look too serious or wise when it’s time to drink like everyone else; so be strategic: mix water with your wine; don’t finish everything in your glass; and if you’re caught and pressured to drink more, don’t shout about being sober; just say you’ve been unwell lately, that you’re prone to inflammatory issues, and that you kindly ask to be excused for now. A young person should be smarter than they appear, and an older person should seem wise whether they actually are or not.
During your stay at Hanover I would have you make two or three excursions to parts of that Electorate: the Hartz, where the silver mines are; Gottingen, for the University; Stade, for what commerce there is. You should also go to Zell. In short, see everything that is to be seen there, and inform yourself well of all the details of that country. Go to Hamburg for three or four days, and know the constitution of that little Hanseatic Republic, and inform yourself well of the nature of the King of Denmark’s pretensions to it.
During your time in Hanover, I recommend you take a couple of trips to different parts of the region: the Harz Mountains, where the silver mines are; Göttingen, for the university; and Stade, to check out the local commerce. You should also visit Zell. Basically, explore everything worth seeing there and learn all the details about the area. Spend three or four days in Hamburg, and get to know the structure of that small Hanseatic Republic, as well as the nature of the King of Denmark's claims to it.
If all things turn out right for you at Hanover, I would have you make it your head-quarters, till about a week or ten days before the King leaves it; and then go to Brunswick, which, though a little, is a very polite, pretty court. You may stay there a fortnight or three weeks, as you like it; and from thence go to Cassel, and stay there till you go to Berlin; where I would have you be by Christmas. At Hanover you will very easily get good letters of recommendation to Brunswick and to Cassel. You do not want any to Berlin; however, I will send you one for Voltaire. ‘A propos’ of Berlin, be very reserved and cautious while at Hanover, as to that King and that country; both which are detested, because feared by everybody there, from his Majesty down to the meanest peasant; but, however, they both extremely deserve your utmost attention and you will see the arts and wisdom of government better in that country, now, than in any other in Europe. You may stay three months at Berlin, if you like it, as I believe you will; and after that I hope we shall meet there again.
If everything goes well for you in Hanover, I’d suggest you make it your base until about a week or ten days before the King leaves. After that, head to Brunswick, which, although small, is a very polite and charming court. You can stay there for a fortnight or three weeks, whichever you prefer, and then go to Cassel, staying there until you head to Berlin; I’d like you to be in Berlin by Christmas. In Hanover, you’ll easily get good letters of recommendation to Brunswick and Cassel. You don’t need one for Berlin, but I will send you a recommendation for Voltaire anyway. Speaking of Berlin, be very discreet and cautious while in Hanover regarding the King and that country; both are disliked because they are feared by everyone there, from the King down to the lowest peasant. Still, they both truly deserve your full attention, and you’ll see the arts and wisdom of governance better in that country now than in any other part of Europe. You can stay in Berlin for three months if you like, which I believe you will, and after that, I hope we can meet up again.
Of all the places in the world (I repeat it once more), establish a good reputation at Hanover, ‘et faites vous valoir la, autant qu’il est possible, par le brillant, les manieres, et les graces’. Indeed it is of the greatest importance to you, and will make any future application to the King in your behalf very easy. He is more taken by those little things, than any man, or even woman, that I ever knew in my life: and I do not wonder at him. In short, exert to the utmost all your means and powers to please: and remember that he who pleases the most, will rise the soonest and the highest. Try but once the pleasure and advantage of pleasing, and I will answer that you will never more neglect the means.
Of all the places in the world (I’ll say it again), build a solid reputation in Hanover, and make the most of it as much as you can, with flair, manners, and charm. It’s really important for you, and it will make any future requests to the King on your behalf much easier. He cares more about those little details than anyone, man or woman, I’ve ever known, and I can’t say I blame him. In short, put in all your effort to impress: remember that the person who pleases the most will rise the fastest and the highest. Just try the joy and benefits of pleasing others once, and I promise you won’t neglect those efforts again.
I send you herewith two letters, the one to Monsieur Munchausen, the other to Monsieur Schweigeldt, an old friend of mine, and a very sensible knowing man. They will both I am sure, be extremely civil to you, and carry you into the best company; and then it is your business to please that company. I never was more anxious about any period of your life, than I am about this, your Hanover expedition, it being of so much more consequence to you than any other. If I hear from thence, that you are liked and loved there, for your air, your manners, and address, as well as esteemed for your knowledge, I shall be the happiest man in the world. Judge then what I must be, if it happens otherwise. Adieu.
I'm sending you two letters: one for Monsieur Munchausen and the other for Monsieur Schweigeldt, an old friend of mine who's very sensible and knowledgeable. I'm sure they will be very polite to you and introduce you to the best people, and then it's up to you to impress them. I've never been more concerned about any time in your life than I am about this trip to Hanover, as it's so much more important for you than anything else. If I hear that you're liked and admired there for your presence, manners, and demeanor, as well as respected for your knowledge, I'll be the happiest person in the world. Imagine how I would feel if it turns out differently. Goodbye.
LETTER CLXXIII
LONDON, July 21, O. S. 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: By my calculation this letter may probably arrive at Hanover three or four days before you; and as I am sure of its arriving there safe, it shall contain the most material points that I have mentioned in my several letters to you since you left Paris, as if you had received but few of them, which may very probably be the case.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Based on my calculations, this letter should probably reach Hanover three or four days before you do. Since I’m confident it will arrive safely, I’ll include the most important points I’ve mentioned in my various letters to you since you left Paris, just in case you haven't received many of them, which is likely.
As for your stay at Hanover, it must not IN ALL EVENTS be less than a month; but if things turn out to Your SATISFACTION, it may be just as long as you please. From thence you may go wherever you like; for I have so good an opinion of your judgment, that I think you will combine and weigh all circumstances, and choose the properest places. Would you saunter at some of the small courts, as Brunswick, Cassel, etc., till the Carnival at Berlin? You are master. Would you pass a couple of months at Ratisbon, which might not be ill employed? ‘A la bonne heure’. Would you go to Brussels, stay a month or two there with Dayrolles, and from thence to Mr. Yorke, at The Hague? With all my heart. Or, lastly, would you go to Copenhagen and Stockholm? ‘Lei e anche Padrone’: choose entirely for yourself, without any further instructions from me; only let me know your determination in time, that I may settle your credit, in case you go to places where at present you have none. Your object should be to see the ‘mores multorum hominum et urbes’; begin and end it where you please.
Regarding your stay in Hanover, it must be at least a month; however, if things go well for you, feel free to extend it as long as you want. From there, you can go wherever you like, as I trust your judgment and believe you'll consider all the circumstances to pick the best places. Would you like to visit some smaller courts like Brunswick, Cassel, etc., until the Carnival in Berlin? That's up to you. Would you prefer to spend a couple of months in Ratisbon, which could be a good use of your time? Great idea. Or, would you go to Brussels and spend a month or two there with Dayrolles, then head to Mr. Yorke in The Hague? I’m all for it. Lastly, would you like to visit Copenhagen and Stockholm? You have complete freedom to decide for yourself without needing any more instructions from me; just let me know your plans in advance so I can arrange your finances in case you go to places where you currently have none. Your goal should be to experience the "ways of many people and cities"; start and finish wherever you want.
By what you have already seen of the German courts, I am sure you must have observed that they are much more nice and scrupulous, in points of ceremony, respect and attention, than the greater courts of France and England. You will, therefore, I am persuaded, attend to the minutest circumstances of address and behavior, particularly during your stay at Hanover, which (I will repeat it, though I have said it often to you already) is the most important preliminary period of your whole life. Nobody in the world is more exact, in all points of good-breeding, than the King; and it is the part of every man’s character, that he informs himself of first. The least negligence, or the slightest inattention, reported to him, may do you infinite prejudice: as their contraries would service.
Based on what you’ve seen of the German courts, I’m sure you’ve noticed that they pay much more attention to ceremony, respect, and etiquette than the larger courts of France and England. So, I’m convinced you’ll focus on even the smallest details of how you address and behave, especially during your time in Hanover, which (I’ll say it again, even though I’ve mentioned it to you before) is the most crucial introductory period of your entire life. Nobody in the world is more precise about good manners than the King, and it’s essential for every person to be informed about that first. Any negligence or even the slightest oversight reported to him could lead to serious consequences for you, while the opposite could be beneficial.
If Lord Albemarle (as I believe he did) trusted you with the secret affairs of his department, let the Duke of Newcastle know that he did so; which will be an inducement to him to trust you too, and possibly to employ you in affairs of consequence. Tell him that, though you are young, you know the importance of secrecy in business, and can keep a secret; that I have always inculcated this doctrine into you, and have, moreover, strictly forbidden you ever to communicate, even to me, any matters of a secret nature, which you may happen to be trusted with in the course of business.
If Lord Albemarle (as I think he did) confided in you about the secret matters of his department, let the Duke of Newcastle know that he did; this will encourage him to trust you as well, and maybe even involve you in important matters. Tell him that, even though you’re young, you understand the significance of keeping things confidential in business and are capable of maintaining a secret; that I have always stressed this principle to you and have also strictly prohibited you from ever sharing, even with me, any confidential information you might be entrusted with during the course of your work.
As for business, I think I can trust you to yourself; but I wish I could say as much for you with regard to those exterior accomplishments, which are absolutely necessary to smooth and shorten the way to it. Half the business is done, when one has gained the heart and the affections of those with whom one is to transact it. Air and address must begin, manners and attention must finish that work. I will let you into one secret concerning myself; which is, that I owe much more of the success which I have had in the world to my manners, than to any superior degree of merit or knowledge. I desired to please, and I neglected none of the means. This, I can assure you, without any false modesty, is the truth: You have more knowledge than I had at your age, but then I had much more attention and good-breeding than you. Call it vanity, if you please, and possibly it was so; but my great object was to make every man I met with like me, and every woman love me. I often succeeded; but why? By taking great pains, for otherwise I never should: my figure by no means entitled me to it; and I had certainly an up-hill game; whereas your countenance would help you, if you made the most of it, and proscribed for ever the guilty, gloomy, and funereal part of it. Dress, address, and air, would become your best countenance, and make your little figure pass very well.
When it comes to business, I think I can trust you to handle yourself; but I wish I could say the same about your external accomplishments, which are essential to make the journey smoother and quicker. Once you've won over the hearts and affections of those you'll be working with, half the work is done. Your presentation and demeanor must start the process, while good manners and attentiveness will finish it off. I'll let you in on a little secret about myself: I owe a lot of my success in life to my social skills rather than to any higher level of talent or knowledge. I aimed to please and didn't overlook any of the ways to do so. I can assure you, without being falsely modest, that this is the truth: you have more knowledge than I did at your age, but I had much better manners and social awareness than you do. Call it vanity if you want, and it might have been; but my main goal was to make every man I met like me and every woman love me. I often succeeded, but why? Because I put in a lot of effort; otherwise, I wouldn't have. My looks certainly didn't guarantee it, and I had a tough road to climb, while your appearance could work in your favor if you really played it up and avoided the negative, gloomy side of it. A good sense of style, confidence, and demeanor would enhance your appearance and help your figure stand out nicely.
If you have time to read at Hanover, pray let the books you read be all relative to the history and constitution of that country; which I would have you know as correctly as any Hanoverian in the whole Electorate. Inform yourself of the powers of the States, and of the nature and extent of the several judicatures; the particular articles of trade and commerce of Bremen, Harburg, and Stade; the details and value of the mines of the Hartz. Two or three short books will give you the outlines of all these things; and conversation turned upon those subjects will do the rest, and better than books can.
If you have time to read in Hanover, please focus on books related to the history and government of that country; I want you to know it as well as any local in the entire Electorate. Learn about the powers of the States and the types and scope of the different courts; get familiar with the specific trade and commerce details of Bremen, Harburg, and Stade; understand the particulars and value of the mines in the Hartz. A couple of short books will cover all these topics, and discussing them will fill in the gaps even better than books can.
Remember of all things to speak nothing but German there; make it (to express myself pedantically) your vernacular language; seem to prefer it to any other; call it your favorite language, and study to speak it with purity and elegance, if it has any. This will not only make you perfect in it, but will please, and make your court there better than anything. A propos of languages: Did you improve your Italian while you were at Paris, or did you forget it? Had you a master there? and what Italian books did you read with him? If you are master of Italian, I would have you afterward, by the first convenient opportunity, learn Spanish, which you may very easily, and in a very little time do; you will then, in the course of your foreign business, never be obliged to employ, pay, or trust any translator for any European language.
Make sure to only speak German while you're there; consider it your go-to language. Act like it's your top choice, and strive to speak it clearly and elegantly, if possible. Not only will this help you master it, but it will also impress and endear you to those around you. By the way, about languages: Did you get a chance to improve your Italian while in Paris, or did you forget it? Did you have a teacher there? What Italian books did you study with him? If you're fluent in Italian, I suggest that you learn Spanish at your first opportunity, which you can easily do in a short amount of time. This way, in your international dealings, you won’t need to hire or rely on any translators for European languages.
As I love to provide eventually for everything that can possibly happen, I will suppose the worst that can befall you at Hanover. In that case I would have you go immediately to the Duke of Newcastle, and beg his Grace’s advice, or rather orders, what you should do; adding, that his advice will always be orders to you. You will tell him that though you are exceedingly mortified, you are much less so than you should otherwise be, from the consideration that being utterly unknown to his M——-, his objection could not be personal to you, and could only arise from circumstances which it was not in your power either to prevent or remedy; that if his Grace thought that your continuing any longer there would be disagreeable, you entreated him to tell you so; and that upon the whole, you referred yourself entirely to him, whose orders you should most scrupulously obey. But this precaution, I dare say, is ‘ex abundanti’, and will prove unnecessary; however, it is always right to be prepared for all events, the worst as well as the best; it prevents hurry and surprise, two dangerous, situations in business; for I know no one thing so useful, so necessary in all business, as great coolness, steadiness, and sangfroid: they give an incredible advantage over whoever one has to do with.
Since I like to be prepared for everything that could possibly happen, I’m going to assume the worst that could happen to you in Hanover. In that case, I would suggest you go right to the Duke of Newcastle and ask for his Grace’s advice, or rather his orders, about what you should do; emphasize that his advice will always be considered orders to you. You should let him know that although you are very upset, you are less so than you might have been because being completely unknown to his M——- means that his objection cannot be personal to you and must be due to circumstances beyond your control. If his Grace thinks that staying there any longer would be uncomfortable, please ask him to let you know; overall, you refer entirely to him, whose orders you will follow without question. But I suspect this precaution is ‘ex abundanti’ and may not be necessary; however, it’s always wise to be ready for all scenarios, the worst as well as the best; it prevents rush and surprise, two risky situations in business. I know of nothing more useful and necessary in all business than great calmness, steadiness, and composure: they give an incredible advantage over anyone you have to deal with.
I have received your letter of the 15th, N. S., from Mayence, where I find that you have diverted yourself much better than I expected. I am very well acquainted with Comte Cobentzel’s character, both of parts and business. He could have given you letters to Bonn, having formerly resided there himself. You will not be so agreeably ELECTRIFIED where this letter will find you, as you were both at Manheim and Mayence; but I hope you may meet with a second German Mrs. F——-d, who may make you forget the two former ones, and practice your German. Such transient passions will do you no harm; but, on the contrary, a great deal of good; they will refine your manners and quicken your attention; they give a young fellow ‘du brillant’, and bring him into fashion; which last is a great article at setting out in the world.
I got your letter from the 15th, N. S., from Mainz, where it seems you’ve been having a better time than I expected. I know Comte Cobentzel’s character pretty well, both personally and professionally. He could have given you letters to Bonn, since he used to live there himself. You might not be as pleasantly surprised where this letter finds you as you were in Mannheim and Mainz, but I hope you encounter a second German Mrs. F——-d, who might help you forget the previous two and improve your German. Such brief infatuations won’t hurt you; in fact, they’ll do you a lot of good. They’ll refine your manners and sharpen your attention; they give a young man 'brilliance' and help him fit in, which is important when starting out in the world.
I have wrote, about a month ago, to Lord Albemarle, to thank him for all his kindnesses to you; but pray have you done as much? Those are the necessary attentions which should never be omitted, especially in the beginning of life, when a character is to be established.
I wrote to Lord Albemarle about a month ago to thank him for all his kindness to you; but have you done the same? Those are the important gestures that should never be overlooked, especially at the start of life, when you're building your reputation.
That ready wit; which you so partially allow me, and so justly Sir Charles Williams, may create many admirers; but, take my word for it, it makes few friends. It shines and dazzles like the noon-day sun, but, like that too, is very apt to scorch; and therefore is always feared. The milder morning and evening light and heat of that planet soothe and calm our minds. Good sense, complaisance, gentleness of manners, attentions and graces are the only things that truly engage, and durably keep the heart at long run. Never seek for wit; if it presents itself, well and good; but, even in that case, let your judgment interpose; and take care that it be not at the expense of anybody. Pope says very truly:
That quick wit, which you only partially credit me with, and rightly so for Sir Charles Williams, can attract many admirers; but trust me, it earns few true friends. It shines and dazzles like the midday sun, but, like that too, it can easily burn, and as a result, it’s often feared. The softer morning and evening light and warmth of that planet comfort and calm us. Common sense, kindness, gentle manners, attentiveness, and charm are the only things that genuinely connect and keep the heart engaged over time. Don’t actively seek out wit; if it comes naturally, that’s great; but even then, make sure to use your judgment and ensure it doesn’t come at someone else's expense. Pope wisely states:
“There are whom heaven has blest with store of wit;
Yet want as much again to govern it.”
“There are those whom heaven has blessed with plenty of wit; yet they lack as much again to manage it.”
And in another place, I doubt with too much truth:
And in another place, I honestly question:
“For wit and judgment ever are at strife
Though meant each other’s aid, like man and wife.”
“For wit and judgment are always at odds, even though they each aim to help the other, like a husband and wife.”
The Germans are very seldom troubled with any extraordinary ebullitions or effervescenses of wit, and it is not prudent to try it upon them; whoever does, ‘ofendet solido’.
The Germans rarely experience any unusual bursts or excitement of humor, and it’s not wise to test this on them; whoever does, ‘offends solidly’.
Remember to write me very minute accounts of all your transactions at Hanover, for they excite both my impatience and anxiety. Adieu!
Remember to send me detailed updates on everything you do in Hanover, as they make me both anxious and impatient. Bye for now!
LETTER CLXXIV
LONDON, August 4, O. S. 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: I am extremely concerned at the return of your old asthmatic complaint, of which your letter from Cassel of the 28th July, N. S., in forms me. I believe it is chiefly owing to your own negligence; for, notwithstanding the season of the year, and the heat and agitation of traveling, I dare swear you have not taken one single dose of gentle, cooling physic, since that which I made you take at Bath. I hope you are now better, and in better hands. I mean in Dr. Hugo’s at Hanover: he is certainly a very skillful physician, and therefore I desire that you will inform him most minutely of your own case, from your first attack in Carniola, to this last at Marpurgh; and not only follow his prescriptions exactly at present, but take his directions, with regard to the regimen that he would have you observe to prevent the returns of this complaint; and, in case of any returns, the immediate applications, whether external or internal, that he would have you make use of. Consider, it is very worth your while to submit at present to any course of medicine or diet, to any restraint or confinement, for a time, in order to get rid, once for all, of so troublesome and painful a distemper; the returns of which would equally break in upon your business or your pleasures. Notwithstanding all this, which is plain sense and reason, I much fear that, as soon as ever you are got out of your present distress, you will take no preventive care, by a proper course of medicines and regimen; but, like most people of your age, think it impossible that you ever should be ill again. However, if you will not be wise for your own sake, I desire you will be so for mine, and most scrupulously observe Dr. Hugo’s present and future directions.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I am very worried about the return of your old asthma issue, as mentioned in your letter from Cassel dated July 28, N.S. I believe it's mainly due to your own carelessness; despite the season and the heat and stress of traveling, I bet you haven't taken a single dose of gentle, cooling medicine since the one I made you take at Bath. I hope you’re feeling better now and in good hands. I mean Dr. Hugo's at Hanover: he is definitely a skilled physician, so please make sure to inform him in detail about your case, from your first attack in Carniola to this last one in Marpurgh; and not only follow his prescriptions carefully now, but also adhere to his guidance regarding the routine he suggests to prevent future issues; and, in case of any recurrences, the immediate treatments, whether external or internal, that he advises you to use. Keep in mind, it's really worth it to stick to any course of medicine or diet, and any restrictions or confinement, for a while to finally get rid of such a bothersome and painful condition; the returns of which would disrupt both your work and your enjoyment. Regardless of all this practical advice, I worry that as soon as you’re out of your current troubles, you won’t take preventive measures with the right medicine and routine; but, like many people your age, you’ll think it’s impossible for you to be unwell again. However, if you won’t look after yourself for your own sake, I ask that you do it for mine, and to strictly follow Dr. Hugo’s current and future instructions.
Hanover, where I take it for granted you are, is at present the seat and centre of foreign negotiations; there are ministers from almost every court in Europe; and you have a fine opportunity of displaying with modesty, in conversation, your knowledge of the matters now in agitation. The chief I take to be the Election of the King of the Romans, which, though I despair of, heartily wish were brought about for two reasons. The first is, that I think it may prevent a war upon the death of the present Emperor, who, though young and healthy, may possibly die, as young and healthy people often do. The other is, the very reason that makes some powers oppose it, and others dislike it, who do not openly oppose it; I mean, that it may tend to make the imperial dignity hereditary in the House of Austria; which I heartily wish, together with a very great increase of power in the empire: till when, Germany will never be anything near a match for France. Cardinal Richelieu showed his superior abilities in nothing more, than in thinking no pains or expense too great to break the power of the House of Austria in the empire. Ferdinand had certainly made himself absolute, and the empire consequently formidable to France, if that Cardinal had not piously adopted the Protestant cause, and put the empire, by the treaty of Westphalia, in pretty much the same disjointed situation in which France itself was before Lewis the Eleventh; when princes of the blood, at the head of provinces, and Dukes of Brittany, etc., always opposed, and often gave laws to the crown. Nothing but making the empire hereditary in the House of Austria, can give it that strength and efficiency, which I wish it had, for the sake of the balance of power. For, while the princes of the empire are so independent of the emperor, so divided among themselves, and so open to the corruption of the best bidders, it is ridiculous to expect that Germany ever will, or can act as a compact and well-united body against France. But as this notion of mine would as little please SOME OF OUR FRIENDS, as many of our enemies, I would not advise you, though you should be of the same opinion, to declare yourself too freely so. Could the Elector Palatine be satisfied, which I confess will be difficult, considering the nature of his pretensions, the tenaciousness and haughtiness of the court of Vienna (and our inability to do, as we have too often done, their work for them); I say, if the Elector Palatine could be engaged to give his vote, I should think it would be right to proceed to the election with a clear majority of five votes; and leave the King of Prussia and the Elector of Cologne, to protest and remonstrate as much as ever they please. The former is too wise, and the latter too weak in every respect, to act in consequence of these protests. The distracted situation of France, with its ecclesiastical and parliamentary quarrels, not to mention the illness and possibly the death of the Dauphin, will make the King of Prussia, who is certainly no Frenchman in his heart, very cautious how he acts as one. The Elector of Saxony will be influenced by the King of Poland, who must be determined by Russia, considering his views upon Poland, which, by the by, I hope he will never obtain; I mean, as to making that crown hereditary in his family. As for his sons having it by the precarious tenure of election, by which his father now holds it, ‘a la bonne heure’. But, should Poland have a good government under hereditary kings, there would be a new devil raised in Europe, that I do not know who could lay. I am sure I would not raise him, though on my own side for the present.
Hanover, where I assume you are, is currently the hub of foreign discussions; there are representatives from nearly every court in Europe, and you have a great chance to modestly share your insights on the issues being debated. The main topic seems to be the Election of the King of the Romans, which I have little hope for but sincerely wish could be resolved for two reasons. First, I believe it might prevent a war after the death of the current Emperor, who, although young and healthy, could die, as young and healthy people sometimes do. The second reason is the very reason that causes some powers to oppose it and others to be indifferent, although they don’t openly resist it; I mean that it could make the imperial title hereditary in the House of Austria, which I genuinely desire, along with a significant increase in power for the empire. Until that happens, Germany will never compete closely with France. Cardinal Richelieu demonstrated his exceptional talent by considering no effort or expense too great to limit the power of the House of Austria in the empire. Ferdinand had certainly reached a position of absolute power, making the empire consequently formidable to France, if that Cardinal had not cleverly embraced the Protestant cause, thus putting the empire, through the Treaty of Westphalia, in a disjointed state similar to that of France before Louis the Eleventh, when the princes of the blood, governors of provinces, and Dukes of Brittany would frequently oppose the crown and often imposed their own laws. Only by making the empire hereditary in the House of Austria can it achieve the strength and efficiency I wish it had, for the sake of maintaining the balance of power. As long as the princes of the empire remain independent of the emperor, divided among themselves, and vulnerable to the highest bidders, it's absurd to expect that Germany will ever act as a united front against France. However, since this idea of mine would likely displease some of our friends as much as our enemies, I wouldn’t recommend that you express your views too openly, even if you share them. If the Elector Palatine could be convinced, which I admit will be difficult given his claims, the stubbornness and pride of the court of Vienna (and our inability to do, as we have too often done, their work for them); I say, if the Elector Palatine could be persuaded to cast his vote, I would think it is right to proceed with the election with a clear majority of five votes, allowing the King of Prussia and the Elector of Cologne to protest and complain as much as they want. The former is too astute, and the latter too weak in every respect, to act on these protests. France's chaotic situation, with its ecclesiastical and parliamentary conflicts, not to mention the sickness and possible death of the Dauphin, will make the King of Prussia, who definitely isn't a Frenchman at heart, very cautious in his actions. The Elector of Saxony will be influenced by the King of Poland, who will, in turn, be swayed by Russia because of his ambitions regarding Poland, which, by the way, I hope he never achieves; I mean in terms of making that crown hereditary in his family. As for his sons holding it through the uncertain process of election, which is how his father currently maintains it, that's fine. But if Poland were to have a solid government under hereditary kings, a new problem would arise in Europe that I can't imagine how anyone could resolve. I certainly wouldn't want to create that problem, at least not on my side for now.
I do not know how I came to trouble my head so much about politics today, which has been so very free from them for some years: I suppose it was because I knew that I was writing to the most consummate politician of this, and his age. If I err, you will set me right; ‘si quid novisti rectius istis, candidus imperti’, etc.
I don’t know why I’m worrying so much about politics today, especially since it hasn’t been a big deal for a few years. I guess it’s because I realize I’m writing to the most skilled politician of this time and his era. If I’m mistaken, please correct me; ‘if you know anything better than this, feel free to share,’ etc.
I am excessively impatient for your next letter, which I expect by the first post from Hanover, to remove my anxiety, as I hope it will, not only with regard to your health, but likewise to OTHER THINGS; in the meantime in the language of a pedant, but with the tenderness of a parent, ‘jubeo te bene valere’.
I’m really anxious for your next letter, which I expect in the first mail from Hanover, to ease my worries, as I hope it will, not just about your health, but also about OTHER THINGS; in the meantime, in the words of a scholar, but with the love of a parent, ‘I wish you well’.
Lady Chesterfield makes you many compliments, and is much concerned at your indisposition.
Lady Chesterfield gives you a lot of compliments and is very worried about your illness.
LETTER CLXXV
TO MONSIEUR DE VOLTAIRE, NOW STAYING AT BERLIN.
LONDON, August 27, O. S. 1752.
LONDON, August 27, 1752.
SIR: As a most convincing proof how infinitely I am interested in everything which concerns Mr. Stanhope, who will have the honor of presenting you this letter, I take the liberty of introducing him to you. He has read a great deal, he has seen a great deal; whether or not he has made a proper use of that knowledge, is what I do not know: he is only twenty years of age. He was at Berlin some years ago, and therefore he returns thither; for at present people are attracted toward the north by the same motives which but lately drew them to the south.
SIR: To show just how much I care about everything related to Mr. Stanhope, who will be delivering this letter to you, I’d like to introduce him to you. He has read extensively and has experienced a lot; whether he has used that knowledge wisely, I can't say, as he is only twenty years old. He was in Berlin a few years ago, and now he’s going back there because people are currently drawn to the north for the same reasons that recently pulled them to the south.
Permit me, Sir, to return you thanks for the pleasure and instruction I have received from your ‘History of Lewis XIV’. I have as yet read it but four times, because I wish to forget it a little before I read it a fifth; but I find that impossible: I shall therefore only wait till you give us the augmentation which you promised; let me entreat you not to defer it long. I thought myself pretty conversant in the history of the reign of Lewis XIV., by means of those innumerable histories, memoirs, anecdotes, etc., which I had read relative to that period of time. You have convinced me that I was mistaken, and had upon that subject very confused ideas in many respects, and very false ones in others. Above all, I cannot but acknowledge the obligation we have to you, Sir, for the light which you have thrown upon the follies and outrages of the different sects; the weapons you employ against those madmen, or those impostors, are the only suitable ones; to make use of any others would be imitating them: they must be attacked by ridicule, and, punished with contempt. ‘A propos’ of those fanatics; I send you here inclosed a piece upon that subject, written by the late Dean Swift: I believe you will not dislike it. You will easily guess why it never was printed: it is authentic, and I have the original in his own handwriting. His Jupiter, at the Day of judgment, treats them much as you do, and as they deserve to be treated.
Allow me, Sir, to thank you for the enjoyment and knowledge I’ve gained from your ‘History of Louis XIV’. I’ve only read it four times so far because I want to forget a bit before reading it a fifth time; but I find that impossible. I’ll just wait until you release the expanded version you promised; please don’t delay too long. I thought I was quite familiar with the history of Louis XIV's reign from all the countless histories, memoirs, anecdotes, etc., that I’ve read about that time. You have shown me that I was mistaken and had many confused and some entirely false ideas about it. Above all, I must acknowledge our gratitude to you, Sir, for the insight you’ve provided on the foolishness and excesses of the various sects; the arguments you use against these madmen or impostors are the only appropriate ones; using anything else would be imitating them. They must be confronted with ridicule and dealt with through contempt. Speaking of those fanatics, I’m enclosing a piece on that topic written by the late Dean Swift; I believe you’ll find it interesting. You’ll easy guess why it was never published: it is authentic, and I have the original in his own handwriting. His Jupiter, on Judgment Day, treats them much like you do, and as they deserve to be treated.
Give me leave, Sir, to tell you freely, that I am embarrassed upon your account, as I cannot determine what it is that I wish from you. When I read your last history, I am desirous that you should always write history; but when I read your ‘Rome Sauvee’ (although ill-printed and disfigured), yet I then wish you never to deviate from poetry; however, I confess that there still remains one history worthy of your pen, and of which your pen alone is worthy. You have long ago given us the history of the greatest and most outrageous madman (I ask your pardon if I cannot say the greatest hero) of Europe; you have given us latterly the history of the greatest king; give us now the history of the greatest and most virtuous man in Europe; I should think it degrading to call him king. To you this cannot be difficult, he is always before your eyes: your poetical invention is not necessary to his glory, as that may safely rely upon your historical candor. The first duty of an historian is the only one he need require from his, ‘Ne quid falsi dicere audeat, ne quid veri non audeat’. Adieu, Sir! I find that I must admire you every day more and more; but I also know that nothing ever can add to the esteem and attachment with which I am actually, your most humble and most obedient servant, CHESTERFIELD.
Please allow me to say, Sir, that I feel confused about you, as I can't figure out what I really want from you. When I read your latest work, I wish you would always write history; but when I read your 'Rome Saved' (even though it's poorly printed and flawed), I then hope you never stray from poetry. However, I admit there's still one historical topic worthy of your talent, and only your talent can do it justice. Long ago, you gave us the story of the greatest and most outrageous madman (forgive me if I can't call him the greatest hero) of Europe; recently, you shared the story of the greatest king. Now, please give us the story of the greatest and most virtuous man in Europe; I would consider it beneath him to label him a king. This should be easy for you, as he is always in your view: your poetic creativity isn't needed for his glory, as it can rely on your historical honesty. The first duty of a historian is the only one he needs from his, ‘Ne quid falsi dicere audeat, ne quid veri non audeat’. Goodbye, Sir! I find that I admire you more and more each day; but I also know that nothing can ever add to the respect and attachment I already have for you, your most humble and obedient servant, CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CLXXVI
LONDON, September 19, 1752,
MY DEAR FRIEND: Since you have been at Hanover, your correspondence has been both unfrequent and laconic. You made indeed one great effort in folio on the 18th, with a postscript of the 22d August, N. S., and since that, ‘vous avez rate in quarto’. On the 31st August, N. S., you give me no informations of what I want chiefly to know; which is, what Dr. Hugo (whom I charged you to consult) said of your asthmatic complaint, and what he prescribed you to prevent the returns of it; and also what is the company that, you keep there, who has been kind and civil to you, and who not.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Since you’ve been in Hanover, your letters have been both rare and brief. You did make a significant effort with your lengthy letter on the 18th, along with a postscript dated the 22nd of August, N. S., but since then, you’ve fallen short. On August 31st, N. S., you didn’t provide any information about what I mainly want to know: what Dr. Hugo (whom I asked you to consult) said about your asthma and what he prescribed to help prevent its recurrence. I also want to know about the people you’re spending time with there—who has been kind and polite to you, and who hasn’t.
You say that you go constantly to the parade; and you do very well; for though you are not of that trade, yet military matters make so great a part both of conversation and negotiation, that it is very proper not to be ignorant of them. I hope you mind more than the mere exercise of the troops you see; and that you inform yourself at the same time, of the more material details; such as their pay, and the difference of it when in and out of quarters; what is furnished them by the country when in quarters, and what is allowed them of ammunition, bread, etc., when in the field; the number of men and officers in the several troops and companies, together with the non-commissioned officers, as ‘caporals, frey-caporals, anspessades’, sergeants, quarter-masters, etc.; the clothing how frequent, how good, and how furnished; whether by the colonel, as here in England, from what we call the OFF-RECKONINGS, that is, deductions from the men’s pay, or by commissaries appointed by the government for that purpose, as in France and Holland. By these inquiries you will be able to talk military with military men, who, in every country in Europe, except England, make at least half of all the best companies. Your attending the parades has also another good effect, which is, that it brings you, of course, acquainted with the officers, who, when of a certain rank and service, are generally very polite, well-bred people, ‘et du bon ton’. They have commonly seen a great deal of the world, and of courts; and nothing else can form a gentleman, let people say what they will of sense and learning; with both which a man may contrive to be a very disagreeable companion. I dare say, there are very few captains of foot, who are not much better company than ever Descartes or Sir Isaac Newton were. I honor and respect such superior geniuses; but I desire to converse with people of this world, who bring into company their share, at least, of cheerfulness, good-breeding, and knowledge of mankind. In common life, one much oftener wants small money, and silver, than gold. Give me a man who has ready cash about him for present expenses; sixpences, shillings, half-crowns, and crowns, which circulate easily: but a man who has only an ingot of gold about him, is much above common purposes, and his riches are not handy nor convenient. Have as much gold as you please in one pocket, but take care always to keep change in the other; for you will much oftener have occasion for a shilling than for a guinea. In this the French must be allowed to excel all people in the world: they have ‘un certain entregent, un enjouement, un aimable legerete dans la conversation, une politesse aisee et naturelle, qui paroit ne leur rien couter’, which give society all its charms. I am sorry to add, but it is too true, that the English and the Dutch are the farthest from this, of all the people in the world; I do by no means except even the Swiss.
You say you go to the parade all the time, and that's great; even if you’re not in that line of work, military matters are such a big part of both conversation and negotiation that it’s smart to know about them. I hope you pay attention to more than just the troop exercises you see; I hope you also learn the important details, like their pay and how it changes when they’re in and out of quarters, what supplies they get from the country while in quarters, and what they’re allotted for things like ammunition and food when they’re in the field. You should know the number of men and officers in the various troops and companies, plus the non-commissioned officers, like corporals, sergeants, and quartermasters; how frequently they get new clothing, how good it is, and who provides it—whether it’s the colonel, like here in England, through deductions from the men’s pay, or by government appointees, like in France and Holland. By asking these questions, you'll be able to discuss military topics with military personnel, who, in every European country except England, make up at least half of the best circles. Your attendance at the parades also benefits you in another way: it helps you become acquainted with the officers, who, if they're of a certain rank and service, are usually very polite, well-mannered people. They’ve often seen a lot of the world and courts; and nothing else can truly shape a gentleman, no matter what people say about intellect and education, with which a person can be a rather unpleasant companion. I bet there are very few captains of infantry who aren’t better company than Descartes or Sir Isaac Newton ever were. I admire and respect such brilliant minds, but I prefer to engage with people who bring a sense of cheerfulness, good manners, and understanding of human nature into the conversation. In everyday life, you typically need small change more often than gold. I want a person who has cash ready for immediate expenses: sixpences, shillings, half-crowns, and crowns that can be easily exchanged; someone who only carries a gold ingot is really not practical for everyday needs, and their wealth isn't useful. Keep as much gold as you want in one pocket, but always make sure to have change in the other; you’re likely to need a shilling more than a guinea. The French definitely excel at this: they have a certain charm, liveliness, and a natural easy politeness in conversation that makes socializing enjoyable and seems effortless. Unfortunately, I have to say, and it’s true: the English and the Dutch are the furthest away from this of all people, including the Swiss.
Though you do not think proper to inform me, I know from other hands that you were to go to the Gohr with a Comte Schullemburg, for eight or ten days only, to see the reviews. I know also that you had a blister upon your arm, which did you a great deal of good. I know too, you have contracted a great friendship with Lord Essex, and that you two were inseparable at Hanover. All these things I would rather have known from you than from others; and they are the sort of things that I am the most desirous of knowing, as they are more immediately relative to yourself.
Even though you haven't chosen to tell me, I've heard from others that you were supposed to go to the Gohr with Comte Schullemburg for just eight or ten days to attend the reviews. I've also heard that you had a blister on your arm, which really helped you out. I also know that you've developed a close friendship with Lord Essex, and that you two were inseparable in Hanover. I would have preferred to hear all of this directly from you rather than from others, as these are exactly the kinds of things I'm most eager to know since they relate directly to you.
I am very sorry for the Duchess of Newcastle’s illness, full as much upon your as upon her account, as it has hindered you from being so much known to the Duke as I could have wished; use and habit going a great way with him, as indeed they do with most people. I have known many people patronized, pushed up, and preferred by those who could have given no other reason for it, than that they were used to them. We must never seek for motives by deep reasoning, but we must find them out by careful observation and attention, no matter what they should be, but the point is, what they are. Trace them up, step by step, from the character of the person. I have known ‘de par le monde’, as Brantome says, great effects from causes too little ever to have been suspected. Some things must be known, and can never be guessed.
I'm really sorry to hear about the Duchess of Newcastle's illness, and I feel just as concerned for you as for her, since it has prevented you from getting to know the Duke as much as I would have hoped. Familiarity and routine go a long way with him, just as they do with most people. I've seen many individuals getting support, promotion, and preference from those who could offer no other explanation than that they were simply used to them. We shouldn’t search for motives through deep reasoning; instead, we should uncover them through careful observation and awareness, regardless of what they might be. The key is to identify what they actually are. Trace them back, step by step, based on the person's character. I've witnessed significant outcomes from seemingly insignificant causes, as Brantome suggests. Some things need to be known and can't 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.
God knows where this letter will reach you or where you might be; not in Hanover, I assume; but wherever it ends up, I hope it finds you happy and healthy! Goodbye.
LETTER CLXXVII
LONDON, September 22, O. S. 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: The day after the date of my last, I received your letter of the 8th. I approve extremely of your intended progress, and am very glad that you go to the Gohr with Comte Schullemburg. I would have you see everything with your own eyes, and hear everything with your own ears: for I know, by very long experience, that it is very unsafe to trust to other people’s. Vanity and interest cause many misrepresentations, and folly causes many more. Few people have parts enough to relate exactly and judiciously: and those who have, for some reason or other, never fail to sink, or to add some circumstances.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The day after I received your last letter, I got your letter from the 8th. I really support your plan to move forward, and I'm very happy you're going to Gohr with Comte Schullemburg. I want you to see everything for yourself and hear everything with your own ears because, from my long experience, I know it's very risky to rely on what others say. Vanity and personal interests lead to a lot of misinterpretations, and foolishness causes even more. Few people are capable enough to tell things accurately and wisely; and those who are, for some reason, often end up leaving out important details or adding their own twists.
The reception which you have met with at Hanover, I look upon as an omen of your being well received everywhere else; for to tell you the truth, it was the place that I distrusted the most in that particular. But there is a certain conduct, there are certaines ‘manieres’ that will, and must get the better of all difficulties of that kind; it is to acquire them that you still continue abroad, and go from court to court; they are personal, local, and temporal; they are modes which vary, and owe their existence to accidents, whim, and humor; all the sense and reason in the world would never point them out; nothing but experience, observation, and what is called knowledge of the world, can possibly teach them. For example, it is respectful to bow to the King of England, it is disrespectful to bow to the King of France; it is the rule to courtesy to the Emperor; and the prostration of the whole body is required by eastern monarchs. These are established ceremonies, and must be complied with: but why thev were established, I defy sense and reason to tell us. It is the same among all ranks, where certain customs are received, and must necessarily be complied with, though by no means the result of sense and reason. As for instance, the very absurd, though almost universal custom of drinking people’s healths. Can there be anything in the world less relative to any other man’s health, than my drinking a glass of wine? Common sense certainly never pointed it out; but yet common sense tells me I must conform to it. Good sense bids one be civil and endeavor to please; though nothing but experience and observation can teach one the means, properly adapted to time, place, and persons. This knowledge is the true object of a gentleman’s traveling, if he travels as he ought to do. By frequenting good company in every country, he himself becomes of every country; he is no longer an Englishman, a Frenchman, or an Italian; but he is an European; he adopts, respectively, the best manners of every country; and is a Frenchman at Paris, an Italian at Rome, an Englishman at London.
The reception you got at Hanover makes me think you’ll be welcomed wherever else you go; honestly, it was the place I was most worried about in that regard. But there are certain behaviors, certain "ways" that can overcome all sorts of difficulties; it’s acquiring them that keeps you traveling abroad and hopping from court to court. These behaviors are personal, local, and specific to the time; they change and come about due to random circumstances, personal preferences, and moods. No amount of logic or reasoning can define them; only experience, observation, and what people call worldly knowledge can teach them. For instance, it's polite to bow to the King of England, but it's considered disrespectful to bow to the King of France; you’re expected to courtesy to the Emperor, while eastern monarchs require a full prostration. These are established customs that must be followed, but I challenge anyone to explain why they were created in the first place. The same goes for different social classes, where certain customs are accepted and must be adhered to, even though they’re not based on logic or reasoning. Take, for example, the rather silly but almost universal custom of toasting to someone’s health. What could my drinking a glass of wine possibly have to do with another person’s health? Logic certainly doesn’t indicate this, but common sense tells me I have to go along with it. Good judgment advises one to be polite and try to please, although experience and observation are the only ways to learn the right approaches suited to the moment, the setting, and the people involved. This understanding is the real purpose of a gentleman’s travels, provided he travels as he should. By mingling with good company in every country, he becomes part of every culture; he’s no longer just an Englishman, a Frenchman, or an Italian; he’s a European. He adopts the best manners from each place, being a Frenchman in Paris, an Italian in Rome, and an Englishman in London.
This advantage, I must confess, very seldom accrues to my countrymen from their traveling; as they have neither the desire nor the means of getting into good company abroad; for, in the first place, they are confoundedly bashful; and, in the next place, they either speak no foreign language at all, or if they do, it is barbarously. You possess all the advantages that they want; you know the languages in perfection, and have constantly kept the best company in the places where you have been; so that you ought to be an European. Your canvas is solid and strong, your outlines are good; but remember that you still want the beautiful coloring of Titian, and the delicate, graceful touches of Guido. Now is your time to get them. There is, in all good company, a fashionable air, countenance, manner, and phraseology, which can only be acquired by being in good company, and very attentive to all that passes there. When you dine or sup at any well-bred man’s house, observe carefully how he does the honors of his table to the different guests. Attend to the compliments of congratulation or condolence that you hear a well-bred man make to his superiors, to his equals, and to his inferiors; watch even his countenance and his tone of voice, for they all conspire in the main point of pleasing. There is a certain distinguishing diction of a man of fashion; he will not content himself with saying, like John Trott, to a new-married man, Sir, I wish you much joy; or to a man who lost his son, Sir, I am sorry for your loss; and both with a countenance equally unmoved; but he will say in effect the same thing in a more elegant and less trivial manner, and with a countenance adapted to the occasion. He will advance with warmth, vivacity, and a cheerful countenance, to the new-married man, and embracing him, perhaps say to him, “If you do justice to my attachment to you, you will judge of the joy that I feel upon this occasion, better than I can express it,” etc.; to the other in affliction, he will advance slowly, with a grave composure of countenance, in a more deliberate manner, and with a lower voice, perhaps say, “I hope you do me the justice to be convinced that I feel whatever you feel, and shall ever be affected where you are concerned.”
This advantage, I have to admit, rarely comes to my fellow countrymen through their travels; they lack both the desire and the means to mingle with good company abroad. First, they are incredibly shy; second, they either don’t speak any foreign languages at all or, if they do, they speak them poorly. You have all the advantages they lack; you know the languages perfectly and have consistently associated with the best people wherever you go, so you should consider yourself European. Your work is solid and strong, your outlines are good; but remember, you still need the beautiful coloring of Titian and the delicate, graceful touches of Guido. Now is your chance to acquire those. In every good company, there’s a certain fashionable air, demeanor, manner, and way of speaking that can only be learned by being around the right people and paying close attention to everything that happens. When you have dinner or supper at a well-mannered person’s house, carefully observe how they host different guests. Pay attention to the way a well-bred person gives compliments of congratulations or condolences to their superiors, equals, and inferiors; notice their expression and tone of voice, as they all contribute to the main goal of being pleasing. There’s a specific way of speaking for a person of fashion; they don’t just say, like John Trott, to a newly married man, “Sir, I wish you much joy,” or to someone who lost a son, “Sir, I am sorry for your loss,” both said with an equally blank expression; instead, they express the same sentiments in a more elegant and less mundane way, with a facial expression suitable for the situation. They will approach the newly married man warmly, with enthusiasm and a cheerful expression, perhaps saying, “If you appreciate my feelings for you, you’ll understand the joy I feel on this occasion better than I can put into words,” etc.; and to the person in sorrow, they will approach slowly, with a serious expression, in a more measured manner, and in a softer voice, perhaps saying, “I hope you see that I share your feelings, and I will always be affected by what you are going through.”
Your ‘abord’, I must tell you, was too cold and uniform; I hope it is now mended. It should be respectfully open and cheerful with your superiors, warm and animated with your equals, hearty and free with your inferiors. There is a fashionable kind of SMALL TALK which you should get; which, trifling as it is, is of use in mixed companies, and at table, especially in your foreign department; where it keeps off certain serious subjects, that might create disputes, or at least coldness for a time. Upon such occasions it is not amiss to know how to parley cuisine, and to be able to dissert upon the growth and flavor of wines. These, it is true, are very little things; but they are little things that occur very often, and therefore should be said ‘avec gentillesse et grace’. I am sure they must fall often in your way; pray take care to catch them. There is a certain language of conversation, a fashionable diction, of which every gentleman ought to be perfectly master, in whatever language he speaks. The French attend to it carefully, and with great reason; and their language, which is a language of phrases, helps them out exceedingly. That delicacy of diction is characteristical of a man of fashion and good company.
Your manners, I have to say, were too cold and stiff; I hope they've improved now. They should be respectfully open and cheerful with your superiors, warm and lively with your equals, and friendly and relaxed with your subordinates. There's a trendy kind of SMALL TALK that you should master; although it seems trivial, it's really helpful in mixed company and at mealtime, especially in your foreign department, where it can steer clear of serious topics that could lead to arguments or, at the very least, awkwardness for a while. On such occasions, it’s useful to know how to chat about food and to be able to discuss the taste and characteristics of wines. These may seem like small matters, but they come up often, so they should be expressed ‘avec gentillesse et grace.’ I'm sure you'll encounter them frequently; please make sure to seize those moments. There’s a specific way of conversing, a fashionable vocabulary, that every gentleman should master, no matter what language he speaks. The French pay great attention to this for good reason, and their language, rich in phrases, really supports them. That level of eloquence signifies a man of style and good company.
I could write folios upon this subject, and not exhaust it; but I think, and hope, that to you I need not. You have heard and seen enough to be convinced of the truth and importance of what I have been so long inculcating into you upon these points. How happy am I, and how happy are you, my dear child, that these Titian tints, and Guido graces, are all that you want to complete my hopes and your own character! But then, on the other hand, what a drawback would it be to that happiness, if you should never acquire them? I remember, when I was of age, though I had not near so good an education as you have, or seen a quarter so much of the world, I observed those masterly touches and irresistible graces in others, and saw the necessity of acquiring them myself; but then an awkward ‘mauvaise honte’, of which I had brought a great deal with me from Cambridge, made me ashamed to attempt it, especially if any of my countrymen and particular acquaintances were by. This was extremely absurd in me: for, without attempting, I could never succeed. But at last, insensibly, by frequenting a great deal of good company, and imitating those whom I saw that everybody liked, I formed myself, ‘tant bien que mal’. For God’s sake, let this last fine varnish, so necessary to give lustre to the whole piece, be the sole and single object now of your utmost attention. Berlin may contribute a great deal to it if you please; there are all the ingredients that compose it.
I could write volumes on this topic and still not cover everything, but I think, and hope, that I don’t need to for you. You’ve heard and seen enough to understand the truth and significance of what I’ve been trying to teach you. How happy I am, and how happy you should be, my dear child, that these Titian colors and Guido styles are all you need to fulfill my hopes and your own character! But then, on the flip side, how much would it take away from that happiness if you never learned them? I remember when I came of age; even though I didn’t have nearly the education you do or have seen even a fraction of what you have, I noticed those masterful touches and irresistible qualities in others and realized I needed to develop them myself. However, a clumsy shyness, which I had brought with me from Cambridge, made me embarrassed to try, especially if any of my fellow countrymen or acquaintances were around. That was incredibly foolish of me: because without trying, I could never succeed. But eventually, by spending time with a lot of good company and imitating those whom everyone liked, I shaped myself, as best as I could. For heaven's sake, let this final fine polish, which is so essential to enhance the whole piece, be your primary focus now. Berlin can contribute significantly to it if you want; it has all the elements that make it up.
‘A Propos’ of Berlin, while you are there, take care to seem ignorant of all political matters between the two courts; such as the affairs of Ost Frise, and Saxe Lawemburg, etc., and enter into no conversations upon those points; but, however, be as well at court as you possibly can; live at it, and make one of it. Should General Keith offer you civilities, do not decline them; but return them, however, without being ‘enfant de la maison chez lui’: say ‘des chores flatteuses’ of the Royal Family, and especially of his Prussian Majesty, to those who are the most like to repeat them. In short, make yourself well there, without making yourself ill SOMEWHERE ELSE. Make compliments from me to Algarotti, and converse with him in Italian.
While you're in Berlin, be sure to act like you don't know anything about the political issues between the two courts, like the situations in Ost Frise and Saxe Lawemburg, and avoid discussions about those topics. However, try to fit in at court as much as you can; be part of it and live it up. If General Keith offers you any kindness, don't turn it down; just make sure to reciprocate without overstepping. Share some flattering comments about the Royal Family, especially about the Prussian King, with those who are likely to pass them on. In short, make a good impression there without causing problems elsewhere. Send my regards to Algarotti, and chat with him in Italian.
I go next week to the Bath, for a deafness, which I have been plagued with these four or five months; and which I am assured that pumping my head will remove. This deafness, I own, has tried my patience; as it has cut me off from society, at an age when I had no pleasures but those left. In the meantime, I have, by reading and writing, made my eyes supply the defect of my ears. Madame H——-, I suppose, entertained both yours alike; however, I am very glad that you were well with her; for she is a good ‘proneuse’, and puffs are very useful to a young fellow at his entrance into the world.
I'm going to Bath next week for my deafness, which has been bothering me for about four or five months, and I've been told that pumping my head will fix it. I admit this deafness has tested my patience since it has cut me off from socializing at a time when those connections were my only source of enjoyment. In the meantime, I've relied on reading and writing to make up for my hearing loss. Madame H——- must have entertained both of you too; I'm just glad you got along with her because she's a great person, and recommendations are really helpful for a young guy starting out in the world.
If you should meet with Lord Pembroke again, anywhere, make him many compliments from me; and tell him that I should have written to him, but that I knew how troublesome an old correspondent must be to a young one. He is much commended in the accounts from Hanover.
If you run into Lord Pembroke again, wherever that may be, send him a lot of compliments from me. Also, let him know that I'd have written to him, but I figured an old correspondent like me might be a hassle for someone younger. People are saying a lot of good things about him in the reports from Hanover.
You will stay at Berlin just as long as you like it, and no longer; and from thence you are absolutely master of your own motions, either to The Hague, or to Brussels; but I think that you had better go to The Hague first, because that from thence Brussels will be in your way to Calais, which is a much better passage to England than from Helvoetsluys. The two courts of The Hague and Brussels are worth your seeing; and you will see them both to advantage, by means of Colonel Yorke and Dayrolles. Adieu. Here is enough for this time.
You can stay in Berlin as long as you want, but not any longer; and from there, you’re completely in control of where you go next, whether it’s The Hague or Brussels. I think you should go to The Hague first since Brussels will make your journey to Calais easier, which has a much better route to England than Helvoetsluys. The two courts in The Hague and Brussels are worth visiting, and you’ll have a great experience with the help of Colonel Yorke and Dayrolles. Goodbye. That’s enough for now.
LETTER CLXXVIII
LONDON, September 26, 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: As you chiefly employ, or rather wholly engross my thoughts, I see every day, with increasing pleasure, the fair prospect which you have before you. I had two views in your education; they draw nearer and nearer, and I have now very little reason to distrust your answering them fully. Those two were, parliamentary and foreign affairs. In consequence of those views, I took care, first, to give you a sufficient stock of sound learning, and next, an early knowledge of the world. Without making a figure in parliament, no man can make any in this country; and eloquence alone enables a man to make a figure in parliament, unless, it be a very mean and contemptible one, which those make there who silently vote, and who do ‘pedibus ire in sententiam’. Foreign affairs, when skillfully managed, and supported by a parliamentary reputation, lead to whatever is most considerable in this country. You have the languages necessary for that purpose, with a sufficient fund of historical and treaty knowledge; that is to say, you have the matter ready, and only want the manner. Your objects being thus fixed, I recommend to you to have them constantly in your thoughts, and to direct your reading, your actions, and your words, to those views. Most people think only ‘ex re nata’, and few ‘ex professo’: I would have you do both, but begin with the latter. I explain myself: Lay down certain principles, and reason and act consequently from them. As, for example, say to yourself, I will make a figure in parliament, and in order to do that, I must not only speak, but speak very well. Speaking mere common sense will by no means do; and I must speak not only correctly but elegantly; and not only elegantly but eloquently. In order to do this, I will first take pains to get an habitual, but unaffected, purity, correctness and elegance of style in my common conversation; I will seek for the best words, and take care to reject improper, inexpressive, and vulgar ones. I will read the greatest masters of oratory, both ancient and modern, and I will read them singly in that view. I will study Demosthenes and Cicero, not to discover an old Athenian or Roman custom, nor to puzzle myself with the value of talents, mines, drachms, and sesterces, like the learned blockheads in us; but to observe their choice of words, their harmony of diction, their method, their distribution, their exordia, to engage the favor and attention of their audience; and their perorations, to enforce what they have said, and to leave a strong impression upon the passions. Nor will I be pedant enough to neglect the modern; for I will likewise study Atterbury, Dryden, Pope, and Bolingbroke; nay, I will read everything that I do read in that intention, and never cease improving and refining my style upon the best models, till at last I become a model of eloquence myself, which, by care, it is in every man’s power to be. If you set out upon this principle, and keep it constantly in your mind, every company you go into, and every book you read, will contribute to your improvement, either by showing you what to imitate, or what to avoid. Are you to give an account of anything to a mixed company? or are you to endeavor to persuade either man or woman? This principle, fixed in your mind, will make you carefully attend to the choice of your words, and to the clearness and harmony of your diction.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Since you mainly occupy, or rather completely consume my thoughts, I see each day, with growing pleasure, the bright future that lies ahead for you. I had two main goals for your education; they are getting closer and closer, and I now have very little reason to doubt that you will fully achieve them. These two goals were parliamentary and foreign affairs. Because of these goals, I made sure to first give you a solid foundation of knowledge, and secondly, an early understanding of the world. Without making a name for yourself in parliament, no one can stand out in this country; and eloquence is the only way to make an impression in parliament, unless it’s a very small and insignificant one, which is what those do who simply vote silently. Foreign affairs, when handled skillfully and backed by a parliamentary reputation, lead to the most important positions in this country. You possess the necessary languages for that purpose, along with a good amount of historical and treaty knowledge; in other words, you have the content ready, and just need to work on the delivery. With your goals set clearly, I advise you to keep them at the forefront of your mind and align your reading, actions, and words with those aims. Most people only think 'as needed,' and few 'from established principles': I want you to do both, but start with the latter. Let me clarify: Establish certain principles and reason and act consistently based on them. For example, tell yourself, I want to make an impression in parliament, and to do that, I not only need to speak but to speak very well. Speaking only basic common sense won’t cut it; I need to speak not just accurately but also beautifully, and not only beautifully but also eloquently. To achieve this, I will first work on having a natural, yet unaffected, purity, accuracy, and elegance in my everyday conversation; I will strive to choose the best words and carefully avoid those that are inappropriate, vague, or common. I will read the greatest masters of oratory, both ancient and modern, focusing solely on that purpose. I will study Demosthenes and Cicero, not to uncover old Athenian or Roman customs, nor to confuse myself with the value of talents, mines, drachms, and sesterces, like the learned fools among us; but to observe their word choices, their rhythmic flow, their structure, their openings to engage their audience’s attention, and their conclusions to reinforce their points and leave a powerful emotional impact. I won’t be pretentious enough to ignore modern authors either; I will also study Atterbury, Dryden, Pope, and Bolingbroke; in fact, I will read everything with that intention, continually improving and refining my style based on the best models until I eventually become a model of eloquence myself, which, with care, is within every person's reach. If you start with this principle and keep it in mind, every group you join and every book you read will help you improve, either by showing you what to emulate or what to avoid. Are you expected to present something to a diverse audience? Or do you aim to persuade someone? Keeping this principle in mind will make you pay careful attention to your word choices and to the clarity and harmony of your expression.
So much for your parliamentary object; now to the foreign one.
So much for your parliamentary goal; now onto the foreign one.
Lay down first those principles which are absolutely necessary to form a skillful and successful negotiator, and form yourself accordingly. What are they? First, the clear historical knowledge of past transactions of that kind. That you have pretty well already, and will have daily more and more; for, in consequence of that principle, you will read history, memoirs, anecdotes, etc., in that view chiefly. The other necessary talents for negotiation are: the great art of pleasing and engaging the affection and confidence, not only of those with whom you are to cooperate, but even of those whom you are to oppose: to conceal your own thoughts and views, and to discover other people’s: to engage other people’s confidence by a seeming cheerful frankness and openness, without going a step too far: to get the personal favor of the king, prince, ministers, or mistresses of the court to which you are sent: to gain the absolute command over your temper and your countenance, that no heat may provoke you to say, nor no change of countenance to betray, what should be a secret: to familiarize and domesticate yourself in the houses of the most considerable people of the place, so as to be received there rather as a friend to the family than as a foreigner. Having these principles constantly in your thoughts, everything you do and everything you say will some way or other tend to your main view; and common conversation will gradually fit you for it. You will get a habit of checking any rising heat; you will be upon your guard against any indiscreet expression; you will by degrees get the command of your countenance, so as not to change it upon any the most sudden accident; and you will, above all things, labor to acquire the great art of pleasing, without which nothing is to be done. Company is, in truth, a constant state of negotiation; and, if you attend to it in that view, will qualify you for any. By the same means that you make a friend, guard against an enemy, or gain a mistress; you will make an advantageous treaty, baffle those who counteract you, and gain the court you are sent to. Make this use of all the company you keep, and your very pleasures will make you a successful negotiator. Please all who are worth pleasing; offend none. Keep your own secret, and get out other people’s. Keep your own temper and artfully warm other people’s. Counterwork your rivals, with diligence and dexterity, but at the same time with the utmost personal civility to them; and be firm without heat. Messieurs d’Avaux and Servien did no more than this. I must make one observation, in confirmation of this assertion; which is, that the most eminent negotiators have allways been the politest and bestbred men in company; even what the women call the PRETTIEST MEN. For God’s sake, never lose view of these two your capital objects: bend everything to them, try everything by their rules, and calculate everything for their purposes. What is peculiar to these two objects, is, that they require nothing, but what one’s own vanity, interest, and pleasure, would make one do independently of them. If a man were never to be in business, and always to lead a private life, would he not desire to please and to persuade? So that, in your two destinations, your fortune and figure luckily conspire with your vanity and your pleasures. Nay more; a foreign minister, I will maintain it, can never be a good man of business if he is not an agreeable man of pleasure too. Half his business is done by the help of his pleasures; his views are carried on, and perhaps best and most unsuspectedly, at balls, suppers, assemblies, and parties of pleasure; by intrigues with women, and connections insensibly formed with men, at those unguarded hours of amusement.
First, establish the essential principles for becoming a skilled and successful negotiator, and then shape yourself accordingly. What are these principles? First, you need a solid understanding of historical transactions similar to the ones you're involved in. You likely already have a good grasp of this and will continue to improve daily; this understanding will come from reading history, memoirs, anecdotes, and similar materials with this focus in mind. Other important skills for negotiation include: the ability to charm and gain the trust and affection not only of your allies but also of your opponents; the skill to mask your own thoughts while uncovering those of others; the ability to instill confidence in others through a seemingly cheerful transparency, without overstepping; earning the personal favor of the king, prince, ministers, or influential figures at court; mastering control over your emotions and expressions, ensuring that no sudden provocation reveals your secrets; becoming familiar and welcomed in the homes of influential local figures, so you are seen more as a family friend than as an outsider. Keeping these principles at the forefront of your mind will ensure that everything you do and say aligns with your main objectives, and casual conversations will gradually prepare you for this. You will develop the habit of controlling your emotions, be cautious of any impolite remarks, and learn to maintain a composed demeanor regardless of unexpected occurrences, all while striving to master the critical skill of pleasing others, which is essential for success. Social interactions are, in essence, ongoing negotiations; if you view them through this lens, they will prepare you for any situation. The same efforts that help you make friends, guard against foes, or win over someone you're interested in will enable you to create advantageous agreements, thwart those who oppose you, and win over the court you're sent to. Utilize all your social interactions toward this end, and even your leisure time will contribute to your effectiveness as a negotiator. Aim to please those who deserve it and avoid offending anyone. Keep your own secrets but uncover those of others. Maintain your own composure while encouraging the warmth of others. Work against your rivals with diligence and skill, all while showing them the utmost civility, and remain steadfast without losing your temper. Messieurs d'Avaux and Servien only did this. I must point out a critical observation supporting this claim: the most distinguished negotiators have always been the politest and most well-mannered individuals in social settings—what women often refer to as the PRETTIEST MEN. For your own sake, never lose sight of these two key objectives: align everything toward them, adhere to their principles, and align your plans with their goals. What sets these two objectives apart is that they require nothing more than what your own vanity, interests, and pleasures would naturally inspire you to seek independently. Wouldn't anyone, even outside of business, desire to please and persuade? Thus, in your two roles, your personal success and image conveniently align with your vanity and pleasure. Moreover, I assert that a foreign minister cannot effectively conduct business if he isn't also an enjoyable person. Much of his work is carried out through his leisurely activities; his goals advance, often most discreetly, during social events like balls, dinners, gatherings, and parties. Connections are often formed during carefree moments shared with women and while bonding with men during relaxed times of enjoyment.
These objects now draw very near you, and you have no time to lose in preparing yourself to meet them. You will be in parliament almost as soon as your age will allow, and I believe you will have a foreign department still sooner, and that will be earlier than ever any other body had one. If you set out well at one-and-twenty, what may you not reasonably hope to be at one-and-forty? All that I could wish you! Adieu.
These things are coming up to you quickly, and you need to get ready to face them. You'll be in parliament as soon as you hit the right age, and I think you'll lead a foreign department even sooner, making history in a way no one else has. If you make a strong start at twenty-one, just imagine what you could achieve by forty-one! I wish you all the best! Goodbye.
LETTER CLXXIX
LONDON, September 29, 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: There is nothing so necessary, but at the same time there is nothing more difficult (I know it by experience) for you young fellows, than to know how to behave yourselves prudently toward those whom you do not like. Your passions are warm, and your heads are light; you hate all those who oppose your views, either of ambition or love; and a rival, in either, is almost a synonymous term for an enemy. Whenever you meet such a man, you are awkwardly cold to him, at best; but often rude, and always desirous to give him some indirect slap. This is unreasonable; for one man has as good a right to pursue an employment, or a mistress, as another; but it is, into the bargain, extremely imprudent; because you commonly defeat your own purpose by it, and while you are contending with each other, a third often prevails. I grant you that the situation is irksome; a man cannot help thinking as he thinks, nor feeling what he feels; and it is a very tender and sore point to be thwarted and counterworked in one’s pursuits at court, or with a mistress; but prudence and abilities must check the effects, though they cannot remove the cause. Both the pretenders make themselves disagreeable to their mistress, when they spoil the company by their pouting, or their sparring; whereas, if one of them has command enough over himself (whatever he may feel inwardly) to be cheerful, gay, and easily and unaffectedly civil to the other, as if there were no manner of competition between them, the lady will certainly like him the best, and his rival will be ten times more humbled and discouraged; for he will look upon such a behavior as a proof of the triumph and security of his rival, he will grow outrageous with the lady, and the warmth of his reproaches will probably bring on a quarrel between them. It is the same in business; where he who can command his temper and his countenance the best, will always have an infinite advantage over the other. This is what the French call un ‘procede honnete et galant’, to PIQUE yourself upon showing particular civilities to a man, to whom lesser minds would, in the same case, show dislike, or perhaps rudeness. I will give you an instance of this in my own case; and pray remember it, whenever you come to be, as I hope you will, in a like situation.
MY DEAR FRIEND: There's nothing more crucial, yet at the same time more challenging (I know this from experience), for you young guys than figuring out how to handle yourself wisely towards those you don’t like. Your passions run high, and you're easily distracted; you despise anyone who opposes your ambitions or affections, and a rival, in either case, is nearly synonymous with an enemy. Whenever you encounter such a person, you’re at best stiffly cold to him; often you’re rude, and always seeking to throw some indirect jab his way. This is unreasonable because everyone has just as much right to pursue a job or a partner as anyone else; but, on top of that, it’s incredibly unwise because you usually end up sabotaging your own goals, and while you’re busy fighting each other, a third party often comes out on top. I understand that this situation is frustrating; a person can’t help what they think or feel; and it’s a sensitive and painful issue to be thwarted in your pursuits at court or with someone you’re interested in. However, being prudent and skilled must temper your reactions, even if it can't eliminate the feelings. Both contenders make themselves unpleasant to their love interest when they ruin the atmosphere with their sulking or bickering; whereas, if one of them can control himself (no matter what he feels inside) to be cheerful, lighthearted, and genuinely polite to the other, as if there’s no competition at all, the lady will definitely prefer him, and his rival will feel ten times more humiliated and disheartened; he’ll perceive such behavior as a sign of his rival’s victory and confidence, and he’ll become furious with the lady, and the intensity of his accusations will likely lead to a fight between them. It’s the same in business; the person who can best manage his temper and expression will always have a significant advantage over the other. This is what the French call un ‘procede honnete et galant’, which means to take pride in showing special politeness to someone whom lesser individuals would, in the same situation, treat with disdain or perhaps rudeness. I’ll give you an example from my own life; please remember this whenever you find yourself, as I hope you will, in a similar circumstance.
When I went to The Hague, in 1744, it was to engage the Dutch to come roundly into the war, and to stipulate their quotas of troops, etc.; your acquaintance, the Abbe de la Ville, was there on the part of France, to endeavor to hinder them from coming into the war at all. I was informed, and very sorry to hear it, that he had abilities, temper, and industry. We could not visit, our two masters being at war; but the first time I met him at a third place, I got somebody to present me to him; and I told him, that though we were to be national enemies, I flattered myself we might be, however, personal friends, with a good deal more of the same kind; which he returned in full as polite a manner. Two days afterward, I went, early in the morning, to solicit the Deputies of Amsterdam, where I found l’Abbe de la Ville, who had been beforehand with me; upon which I addressed myself to the Deputies, and said, smilingly, I am very sorry, Gentlemen, to find my enemy with you; my knowledge of his capacity is already sufficient to make me fear him; we are not upon equal terms; but I trust to your own interest against his talents. If I have not this day had the first word, I shall at least have the last. They smiled: the Abbe was pleased with the compliment, and the manner of it, stayed about a quarter of an hour, and then left me to my Deputies, with whom I continued upon the same tone, though in a very serious manner, and told them that I was only come to state their own true interests to them, plainly and simply, without any of those arts, which it was very necessary for my friend to make use of to deceive them. I carried my point, and continued my ‘procede’ with the Abbe; and by this easy and polite commerce with him, at third places, I often found means to fish out from him whereabouts he was.
When I went to The Hague in 1744, it was to convince the Dutch to join the war and to agree on their troop contributions, etc.; your acquaintance, the Abbe de la Ville, was there representing France, trying to prevent them from entering the war altogether. I heard, and was quite disappointed to learn, that he had skills, temperament, and dedication. We couldn’t meet because our two countries were enemies, but the first time I saw him at a neutral location, I arranged to be introduced. I told him that although we were supposed to be national enemies, I hoped we could still be personal friends, along with a bit more of the same sentiment; he responded just as politely. Two days later, I went early in the morning to speak with the Deputies of Amsterdam, where I found the Abbe de la Ville had arrived before me. I addressed the Deputies, smiling, saying, "I’m very sorry, Gentlemen, to see my adversary here; I know his abilities well enough to be concerned, and we aren’t on equal footing. But I trust in your own interests against his talents. If I haven’t spoken first today, I will at least have the last word." They smiled; the Abbe appreciated the compliment and the way I said it, stayed for about fifteen minutes, then left me with the Deputies, with whom I kept the conversation light, though serious, and told them I was only there to explain their true interests plainly and simply, without any of the tricks my friend would need to use to mislead them. I succeeded in making my point and continued my approach with the Abbe; through this friendly and polite interaction with him at neutral locations, I often managed to find out where he was.
Remember, there are but two ‘procedes’ in the world for a gentleman and a man of parts; either extreme politeness or knocking down. If a man notoriously and designedly insults and affronts you, knock him down; but if he only injures you, your best revenge is to be extremely civil to him in your outward behavior, though at the same time you counterwork him, and return him the compliment, perhaps with interest. This is not perfidy nor dissimulation; it would be so if you were, at the same time, to make professions of esteem and friendship to this man; which I by no means recommend, but on the contrary abhor. But all acts of civility are, by common consent, understood to be no more than a conformity to custom, for the quiet and conveniency of society, the ‘agremens’ of which are not to be disturbed by private dislikes and jealousies. Only women and little minds pout and spar for the entertainment of the company, that always laughs at, and never pities them. For my own part, though I would by no means give up any point to a competitor, yet I would pique myself upon showing him rather more civility than to another man. In the first place, this ‘procede’ infallibly makes all ‘les rieurs’ of your side, which is a considerable party; and in the next place, it certainly pleases the object of the competition, be it either man or woman; who never fail to say, upon such an occasion, that THEY MUST OWN YOU HAVE BEHAVED YOURSELF VERY, HANDSOMELY IN THE WHOLE AFFAIR. The world judges from the appearances of things, and not from the reality, which few are able, and still fewer are inclined to fathom: and a man, who will take care always to be in the right in those things, may afford to be sometimes a little in the wrong in more essential ones: there is a willingness, a desire to excuse him. With nine people in ten, good-breeding passes for good-nature, and they take attentions for good offices. At courts there will be always coldnesses, dislikes, jealousies, and hatred, the harvest being but small in proportion to the number of laborers; but then, as they arise often, they die soon, unless they are perpetuated by the manner in which they have been carried on, more than by the matter which occasioned them. The turns and vicissitudes of courts frequently make friends of enemies, and enemies of friends; you must labor, therefore, to acquire that great and uncommon talent of hating with good-breeding and loving with prudence; to make no quarrel irreconcilable by silly and unnecessary indications of anger; and no friendship dangerous, in case it breaks, by a wanton, indiscreet, and unreserved confidence.
Remember, there are only two approaches in the world for a gentleman and a capable person; either extreme politeness or throwing a punch. If someone deliberately insults or offends you, you should knock him down; but if he merely hurts you, your best revenge is to be very civil to him on the surface, while secretly undermining him and returning the favor, maybe with interest. This isn’t betrayal or deceit; it would be if you were to profess esteem and friendship to this person, which I definitely do not recommend and actually find detestable. However, acts of civility are generally understood to be just a way to follow custom, for the peace and convenience of society, the agreements of which shouldn’t be disrupted by personal dislikes and jealousies. Only women and small-minded individuals sulk and spar for the entertainment of the audience, who always laughs at them and never feels sorry for them. As for me, while I would never concede any point to a rival, I take pride in showing him a bit more civility than to anyone else. Firstly, this approach definitely wins over all the onlookers, which is a significant advantage; and secondly, it certainly pleases the person you're competing with, whether it's a man or a woman; who will always say, on such occasions, that THEY MUST ADMIT YOU HAVE CONDUCTED YOURSELF VERY WELL THROUGHOUT. The world judges based on appearances rather than reality, which few can truly understand, and even fewer want to delve into: a person who ensures they are always right in these situations can afford to be a little wrong in more important ones: there is a willingness, a desire to excuse them. With nine out of ten people, good manners are mistaken for good nature, and they interpret attentions as good deeds. In courts, there will always be coldness, dislikes, jealousies, and hatred, as the rewards are minimal compared to the number of workers; however, since these conflicts often arise, they also die out quickly unless they're prolonged by how they've been handled, rather than by the issues that caused them. The twists and turns in courts often turn friends into enemies and enemies into friends; you must therefore work to develop the rare and valuable skill of hating with good manners and loving wisely; to avoid making any quarrel irreconcilable through foolish and unnecessary displays of anger; and to ensure no friendship becomes dangerous, should it end, because of reckless, indiscreet, and excessive trust.
Few, (especially young) people know how to love, or how to hate; their love is an unbounded weakness, fatal to the person they love; their hate is a hot, rash, and imprudent violence, always fatal to themselves.
Few, especially young people, know how to love or how to hate; their love is an endless weakness that can be harmful to the person they love; their hate is a fiery, impulsive, and reckless anger that ultimately harms themselves.
Nineteen fathers in twenty, and every mother, who had loved you half as well as I do, would have ruined you; whereas I always made you feel the weight of my authority, that you might one day know the force of my love. Now, I both hope and believe, my advice will have the same weight with you from choice that my authority had from necessity. My advice is just eight-and-twenty years older than your own, and consequently, I believe you think, rather better. As for your tender and pleasurable passions, manage them yourself; but let me have the direction of all the others. Your ambition, your figure, and your fortune, will, for some time at least, be rather safer in my keeping than in your own. Adieu.
Nineteen out of twenty dads, and every mom, who loved you even half as much as I do, would have spoiled you; while I always made sure you felt the weight of my authority, so you’d one day understand the depth of my love. Now, I hope and believe that my advice will hold the same value for you because you choose to follow it, as my authority once did out of necessity. My advice is just twenty-eight years older than yours, so you probably think it’s a bit wiser. As for your tender and enjoyable feelings, manage them on your own; but let me handle all the others. Your ambition, your looks, and your wealth will be safer in my hands for a little while at least, rather than in yours. Goodbye.
LETTER CLXXX
BATH, October 4, 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: I consider you now as at the court of Augustus, where, if ever the desire of pleasing animated you, it must make you exert all the means of doing it. You will see there, full as well, I dare say, as Horace did at Rome, how states are defended by arms, adorned by manners, and improved by laws. Nay, you have an Horace there as well as an Augustus; I need not name Voltaire, ‘qui nil molitur inept?’ as Horace himself said of another poet. I have lately read over all his works that are published, though I had read them more than once before. I was induced to this by his ‘Siecle de Louis XIV’, which I have yet read but four times. In reading over all his works, with more attention I suppose than before, my former admiration of him is, I own, turned into astonishment. There is no one kind of writing in which he has not excelled. You are so severe a classic that I question whether you will allow me to call his ‘Henriade’ an epic poem, for want of the proper number of gods, devils, witches and other absurdities, requisite for the machinery; which machinery is, it seems, necessary to constitute the ‘epopee’. But whether you do or not, I will declare (though possibly to my own shame) that I never read any epic poem with near so much pleasure. I am grown old, and have possibly lost a great deal of that fire which formerly made me love fire in others at any rate, and however attended with smoke; but now I must have all sense, and cannot, for the sake of five righteous lines, forgive a thousand absurd ones.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I think of you now as if you were at the court of Augustus, where, if you ever had the desire to please, you must use every means to do so. You will see there, as well as Horace did in Rome, how states are protected by military power, enriched by culture, and shaped by laws. You have your own Horace there, as well as Augustus; I don’t even need to mention Voltaire, "qui nil molitur inept?" as Horace himself said about another poet. I recently reread all of his published works, even though I had read them multiple times before. I was motivated to do this by his ‘Siècle de Louis XIV,’ which I’ve only read four times. As I read through all his works with more focus than before, my earlier admiration for him has, I must admit, turned into astonishment. There isn't a single type of writing in which he hasn't excelled. You’re such a strict classicist that I wonder if you’ll even let me call his ‘Henriade’ an epic poem, due to the lack of the right number of gods, devils, witches, and other absurdities needed for the epic machinery; which, it seems, is necessary to qualify it as an ‘epopee’. But whether you do or not, I’ll admit (though it might be slightly embarrassing for me) that I’ve never enjoyed reading any epic poem as much as this one. I've grown old and perhaps lost a lot of the passion that once made me appreciate fire in others, smoke and all; but now I need to have sense in my reading and can't forgive a thousand absurd lines for the sake of just five good ones.
In this disposition of mind, judge whether I can read all Homer through ‘tout de suite’. I admire its beauties; but, to tell you the truth, when he slumbers, I sleep. Virgil, I confess, is all sense, and therefore I like him better than his model; but he is often languid, especially in his five or six last books, during which I am obliged to take a good deal of snuff. Besides, I profess myself an ally of Turnus against the pious AEneas, who, like many ‘soi-disant’ pious people, does the most flagrant injustice and violence in order to execute what they impudently call the will of Heaven. But what will you say, when I tell you truly, that I cannot possibly read our countryman Milton through? I acknowledge him to have some most sublime passages, some prodigious flashes of light; but then you must acknowledge that light is often followed by darkness visible, to use his own expression. Besides, not having the honor to be acquainted with any of the parties in this poem, except the Man and the Woman, the characters and speeches of a dozen or two of angels and of as many devils, are as much above my reach as my entertainment. Keep this secret for me: for if it should be known, I should be abused by every tasteless pedant, and every solid divine in England.
In this frame of mind, consider whether I can read all of Homer right away. I appreciate its beauty; but honestly, when he drifts off, I do too. Virgil, I admit, is all about meaning, which is why I prefer him to his inspiration; however, he can be pretty dull, especially in his last five or six books, where I end up taking a lot of snuff. Also, I openly side with Turnus against the virtuous Aeneas, who, like many so-called virtuous people, commits the most blatant injustices and acts of violence in order to carry out what they shamelessly call the will of Heaven. But what will you say when I honestly tell you that I can’t get through our fellow countryman Milton? I recognize he has some truly magnificent passages, some incredible moments of insight; but you must admit that brilliance is often followed by visible darkness, to quote him. Plus, since I don’t have the pleasure of knowing any of the characters in this poem aside from the Man and the Woman, the roles and dialogues of a dozen or so angels and as many devils are just as far beyond my grasp as they are beyond my enjoyment. Keep this between us: if it gets out, I’d be ridiculed by every tasteless snob and every serious theologian in England.
‘Whatever I have said to the disadvantage of these three poems, holds much stronger against Tasso’s ‘Gierusalemme’: it is true he has very fine and glaring rays of poetry; but then they are only meteors, they dazzle, then disappear, and are succeeded by false thoughts, poor ‘concetti’, and absurd impossibilities; witness the Fish and the Parrot; extravagancies unworthy of an heroic poem, and would much better have become Ariosto, who professes ‘le coglionerie’.
‘Everything I’ve said about the shortcomings of these three poems applies even more to Tasso’s 'Gierusalemme.' It's true he has some impressive moments of poetry, but those are just brief flashes; they dazzle and then fade away, leaving behind flawed ideas, weak concepts, and ridiculous impossibilities. Just look at the Fish and the Parrot—absurdities that are unworthy of an epic poem, which would have suited Ariosto much better, as he embraces 'le coglionerie.'
I have never read the “Lusiade of Camoens,” except in prose translation, consequently I have never read it at all, so shall say nothing of it; but the Henriade is all sense from the beginning to the end, often adorned by the justest and liveliest reflections, the most beautiful descriptions, the noblest images, and the sublimest sentiments; not to mention the harmony of the verse, in which Voltaire undoubtedly exceeds all the French poets: should you insist upon an exception in favor of Racine, I must insist, on my part, that he at least equals him. What hero ever interested more than Henry the Fourth; who, according to the rules of epic poetry, carries on one great and long action, and succeeds in it at last? What descriptions ever excited more horror than those, first of the Massacre, and then of the Famine at Paris? Was love ever painted with more truth and ‘morbidezza’ than in the ninth book? Not better, in my mind, even in the fourth of Virgil. Upon the whole, with all your classical rigor, if you will but suppose St. Louis a god, a devil, or a witch, and that he appears in person, and not in a dream, the Henriade will be an epic poem, according to the strictest statute laws of the ‘epopee’; but in my court of equity it is one as it is.
I have never read "The Lusiade of Camoens," except in prose translation, so I can't say anything about it; however, the Henriade is full of meaning from start to finish, often enhanced by sharp and lively insights, beautiful descriptions, noble imagery, and profound sentiments. Not to mention the rhythm of the verse, which Voltaire clearly surpasses all other French poets in: if you argue for an exception for Racine, I must insist that at the very least, he equals him. What hero has ever captivated more than Henry the Fourth, who, following the rules of epic poetry, undertakes one major action and ultimately succeeds? What descriptions have ever stirred more horror than those of the Massacre and then the Famine in Paris? Has love ever been portrayed with more honesty and tenderness than in the ninth book? I don’t think it has, not even in Virgil's fourth book. Overall, with all your classical rigor, if you just assume St. Louis is a god, a devil, or a witch, and that he appears in person and not just in a dream, the Henriade qualifies as an epic poem according to the strictest rules of the genre; but in my view, it is one just as it stands.
I could expatiate as much upon all his different works, but that I should exceed the bounds of a letter and run into a dissertation. How delightful is his history of that northern brute, the King of Sweden, for I cannot call him a man; and I should be sorry to have him pass for a hero, out of regard to those true heroes, such as Julius Caesar, Titus, Trajan, and the present King of Prussia, who cultivated and encouraged arts and sciences; whose animal courage was accompanied by the tender and social sentiments of humanity; and who had more pleasure in improving, than in destroying their fellow-creatures. What can be more touching, or more interesting—what more nobly thought, or more happily expressed, than all his dramatic pieces? What can be more clear and rational than all his philosophical letters? and whatever was so graceful, and gentle, as all his little poetical trifles? You are fortunately ‘a porte’ of verifying, by your knowledge of the man, all that I have said of his works.
I could go on and on about all his different works, but that would take me beyond the limits of a letter and into the realm of a full dissertation. How captivating is his account of that northern brute, the King of Sweden? I can’t even call him a man; I would hate for him to be seen as a hero, especially out of respect for true heroes like Julius Caesar, Titus, Trajan, and the current King of Prussia, who nurtured and supported the arts and sciences; whose bravery was matched by the compassionate and social aspects of humanity; and who found more joy in uplifting others than in destroying them. What could be more moving or interesting—what could be thought out more nobly or expressed more beautifully—than all his plays? What could be clearer and more rational than his philosophical letters? And what was as graceful and gentle as his little poetic works? Fortunately, you have the personal experience to verify everything I’ve said about his works.
Monsieur de Maupertius (whom I hope you will get acquainted with) is, what one rarely meets with, deep in philosophy and, mathematics, and yet ‘honnete et aimable homme’: Algarotti is young Fontenelle. Such men must necessarily give you the desire of pleasing them; and if you can frequent them, their acquaintance will furnish you the means of pleasing everybody else.
Monsieur de Maupertius (who I hope you’ll get to know) is someone you rarely encounter—deep into philosophy and mathematics, yet still an 'honest and nice guy.' Algarotti is like a young Fontenelle. Being around such people naturally makes you want to impress them; if you can spend time with them, their influence will help you please everyone else too.
‘A propos’ of pleasing, your pleasing Mrs. F——-d is expected here in two or three days; I will do all that I can for you with her: I think you carried on the romance to the third or fourth volume; I will continue it to the eleventh; but as for the twelfth and last, you must come and conclude it yourself. ‘Non sum qualis eram’.
‘A propos’ of pleasing, your lovely Mrs. F——-d is expected here in two or three days; I will do all I can for you with her: I think you took the romance to the third or fourth volume; I will continue it to the eleventh; but as for the twelfth and last, you must come and finish it yourself. ‘Non sum qualis eram’.
Good-night to you, child; for I am going to bed, just at the hour at which I suppose you are going to live, at Berlin.
Good night to you, kid; I'm heading to bed now, right around the time I imagine you'll be starting your day in Berlin.
LETTER CLXXXI
BATH, November 11, O. S. 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: It is a very old and very true maxim, that those kings reign the most secure and the most absolute, who reign in the hearts of their people. Their popularity is a better guard than their army, and the affections of their subjects a better pledge of their obedience than their fears. This rule is, in proportion, full as true, though upon a different scale, with regard to private people. A man who possesses that great art of pleasing universally, and of gaining the affections of those with whom he converses, possesses a strength which nothing else can give him: a strength which facilitates and helps his rise; and which, in case of accidents, breaks his fall. Few people of your age sufficiently consider this great point of popularity; and when they grow older and wiser, strive in vain to recover what they have lost by their negligence. There are three principal causes that hinder them from acquiring this useful strength: pride, inattention, and ‘mauvaise honte’. The first I will not, I cannot suspect you of; it is too much below your understanding. You cannot, and I am sure you do not think yourself superior by nature to the Savoyard who cleans your room, or the footman who cleans your shoes; but you may rejoice, and with reason, at the difference that fortune has made in your favor. Enjoy all those advantages; but without insulting those who are unfortunate enough to want them, or even doing anything unnecessarily that may remind them of that want. For my own part, I am more upon my guard as to my behavior to my servants, and others who are called my inferiors, than I am toward my equals: for fear of being suspected of that mean and ungenerous sentiment of desiring to make others feel that difference which fortune has, and perhaps too, undeservedly, made between us. Young people do not enough attend to this; and falsely imagine that the imperative mood, and a rough tone of authority and decision, are indications of spirit and courage. Inattention is always looked upon, though sometimes unjustly, as the effect of pride and contempt; and where it is thought so, is never forgiven. In this article, young people are generally exceedingly to blame, and offend extremely. Their whole attention is engrossed by their particular set of acquaintance; and by some few glaring and exalted objects of rank, beauty, or parts; all the rest they think so little worth their care, that they neglect even common civility toward them. I will frankly confess to you, that this was one of my great faults when I was of your age. Very attentive to please that narrow court circle in which I stood enchanted, I considered everything else as bourgeois, and unworthy of common civility; I paid my court assiduously and skillfully enough to shining and distinguished figures, such as ministers, wits, and beauties; but then I most absurdly and imprudently neglected, and consequently offended all others. By this folly I made myself a thousand enemies of both sexes; who, though I thought them very insignificant, found means to hurt me essentially where I wanted to recommend myself the most. I was thought proud, though I was only imprudent. A general easy civility and attention to the common run of ugly women, and of middling men, both which I sillily thought, called, and treated, as odd people, would have made me as many friends, as by the contrary conduct I made myself enemies. All this too was ‘a pure perte’; for I might equally, and even more successfully, have made my court, when I had particular views to gratify. I will allow that this task is often very unpleasant, and that one pays, with some unwillingness, that tribute of attention to dull and tedious men, and to old and ugly women; but it is the lowest price of popularity and general applause, which are very well worth purchasing were they much dearer. I conclude this head with this advice to you: Gain, by particular assiduity and address, the men and women you want; and, by an universal civility and attention, please everybody so far as to have their good word, if not their goodwill; or, at least, as to secure a partial neutrality.
MY DEAR FRIEND: There's an old saying that those kings who truly reign in the hearts of their people are the most secure and absolute in their rule. Their popularity is a better protection than any army, and the affection of their subjects is a stronger guarantee of obedience than fear. This principle also holds true, though on a personal level, for individuals. A person who has the talent to please everyone and win the affections of those they interact with has a strength that nothing else can provide: a strength that helps them succeed and cushions their fall during difficult times. Many your age don't fully appreciate this important aspect of popularity; and when they get older and wiser, they often struggle to regain what they lost through neglect. Three main factors prevent them from gaining this valuable strength: pride, inattention, and “mauvaise honte.” I do not, cannot, suspect you of the first; it’s too beneath your intelligence. You don't, and I’m sure you don’t believe yourself naturally superior to the Savoyard who cleans your room, or the footman who polishes your shoes; but you can rightfully take pride in the advantages fortune has given you. Enjoy those benefits, but without looking down on those who are less fortunate, or doing anything unnecessary that might remind them of their shortcomings. Personally, I am more careful about how I treat my servants and those considered my inferiors than I am with my peers, out of fear of being seen as that petty and unkind person who wants to emphasize the differences that fortune, perhaps undeservedly, has created between us. Young people often overlook this and mistakenly think that a commanding tone and strict demeanor are signs of spirit and courage. Inattention is often viewed, sometimes unfairly, as a sign of pride and disdain, and when perceived this way, it is never forgiven. In this regard, young people tend to make significant mistakes and offend greatly. They are so focused on their specific social circles and a few prominent figures of status, beauty, or talent that they neglect others entirely, treating them with a lack of basic civility. I must confess that this was one of my major faults when I was your age. I was so eager to please the exclusive circle in which I found myself enchanted that I considered everyone else unworthy of even basic courtesy. I courted the attention of notable figures like ministers, wits, and beauties with great zeal, but paradoxically and foolishly neglected and offended many others. This folly earned me many enemies of both genders, who, while I deemed them insignificant, found ways to undermine my efforts when I wanted to impress the most. I was seen as proud, though I was just imprudent. A more general civility and attention to ordinary, less attractive individuals would have made me as many friends as my current behavior made enemies. And all of this was a waste; I could have better pursued my ambitions while still being polite. I acknowledge that this task can often be quite unpleasant and that it’s a challenge to give attention to dull and tedious people, as well as to older and less attractive individuals; but it's a small price to pay for popularity and general acclaim, which are well worth the effort, even if they cost more. I conclude this point with this advice: Work diligently to win over the people you want to impress, and by being universally polite and attentive, gain the approval of everyone and secure at least a neutral stance from them.
‘Mauvaise honte’ not only hinders young people from making, a great many friends, but makes them a great many enemies. They are ashamed of doing the thing they know to be right, and would otherwise do, for fear of the momentary laugh of some fine gentleman or lady, or of some ‘mauvais plaisant’. I have been in this case: and have often wished an obscure acquaintance at the devil, for meeting and taking notice of me when I was in what I thought and called fine company. I have returned their notice shyly, awkwardly, and consequently offensively; for fear of a momentary joke, not considering, as I ought to have done, that the very people who would have joked upon me at first, would have esteemed me the more for it afterward. An example explains a rule best: Suppose you were walking in the Tuileries with some fine folks, and that you should unexpectedly meet your old acquaintance, little crooked Grierson; what would you do? I will tell you what you should do, by telling you what I would now do in that case myself. I would run up to him, and embrace him; say some kind of things to him, and then return to my company. There I should be immediately asked: ‘Mais qu’est ce que c’est donc que ce petit Sapajou que vous avez embrasse si tendrement? Pour cela, l’accolade a ete charmante’; with a great deal more festivity of that sort. To this I should answer, without being the least ashamed, but en badinant: O je ne vous dirai tas qui c’est; c’est un petit ami que je tiens incognito, qui a son merite, et qui, a force d’etre connu, fait oublier sa figure. Que me donnerez-vous, et je vous le presenterai’? And then, with a little more seriousness, I would add: ‘Mais d’ailleurs c’est que je ne desavoue jamais mes connoissances, a cause de leur etat ou de leur figure. Il faut avoir bien peu de sentimens pour le faire’. This would at once put an end to that momentary pleasantry, and give them all a better opinion of me than they had before. Suppose another case, and that some of the finest ladies ‘du bon ton’ should come into a room, and find you sitting by, and talking politely to ‘la vieille’ Marquise de Bellefonds, the joke would, for a moment, turn upon that ‘tete-a-tete’: He bien! avez vous a la fin fixd la belle Marquise? La partie est-elle faite pour la petite maison? Le souper sera galant sans doute: Mais ne faistu donc point scrupule de seduire une jeune et aimable persone comme celle-la’? To this I should answer: ‘La partie n’etoit pas encore tout-a fait liee, vous nous avez interrompu; mais avec le tems que fait-on? D’ailleurs moquezvous de mes amours tant qu’il vous plaira, je vous dirai que je respecte tant les jeunes dames, que je respecte meme les vieilles, pour l’avoir ete. Apre cela il y a souvent des liaisons entre les vieilles et les jeunes’. This would at once turn the pleasantry into an esteem for your good sense and your good-breeding. Pursue steadily, and without fear or shame, whatever your reason tells you is right, and what you see is practiced by people of more experience than yourself, and of established characters of good sense and good-breeding.
‘Mauvaise honte’ not only stops young people from making a lot of friends, but it also creates many enemies for them. They feel embarrassed about doing what they know is right and would do otherwise, all for the fear of a momentary laugh from some fancy gentleman or lady, or some ‘mauvais plaisant’. I’ve been in this situation too, often wishing an obscure acquaintance would just go away for noticing me when I was with what I thought was a decent crowd. I’ve responded to their acknowledgment shyly, awkwardly, and often in a way that offends, all because I feared a brief joke, not realizing that the same people who might have joked about me at first would actually respect me more for it later. An example explains a rule best: Imagine you’re walking in the Tuileries with some classy folks, and you unexpectedly run into your old acquaintance, the little crooked Grierson; what would you do? I’ll tell you what you should do by sharing what I would do in that situation. I would run up to him and give him a hug, say some nice things, and then return to my group. They would immediately ask, ‘But who was that little monkey you just hugged? That hug was quite sweet’; with a lot more cheerful teasing on top of that. To this, I would respond, without feeling the slightest bit ashamed, but jokingly: Oh, I won’t tell you who he is; he’s a little friend I keep incognito, who has his merits, and who, once known, makes you forget his looks. What will you give me, and I’ll introduce you to him? Then, with a little more seriousness, I would add: ‘But anyway, it’s that I never disown my acquaintances because of their status or looks. You must have very little feeling to do that.’ This would quickly put an end to that momentary joking and give everyone a better opinion of me than they had before. Now, consider another scenario: if some of the finest ladies of good taste walked into a room and found you sitting there, chatting nicely with the old Marquise de Bellefonds, the joke would momentarily turn to that tête-à-tête: Well! Have you finally captured the beautiful Marquise? Is the deal done for the little house? The dinner will surely be charming: But don’t you feel any scruples about seducing such a lovely young lady? To this, I would respond: ‘The deal wasn’t quite finalized; you interrupted us; but what can you do with the time? Besides, make fun of my romances as much as you want, I’ll tell you that I respect young ladies so much that I even respect old ones because they’ve been young. After that, there are often connections between the old and the young.’ This would immediately turn the teasing into admiration for your good sense and good manners. Keep pursuing, fearlessly and without shame, whatever your reason tells you is right, and what you see practiced by people who are more experienced than you and who possess established characters of good sense and good manners.
After all this, perhaps you will say, that it is impossible to please everybody. I grant it; but it does not follow that one should not therefore endeavor to please as many as one can. Nay, I will go further, and admit that it is impossible for any man not to have some enemies. But this truth from long experience I assert, that he who has the most friends and the fewest enemies, is the strongest; will rise the highest with the least envy; and fall, if he does fall, the gentlest, and the most pitied. This is surely an object worth pursuing. Pursue it according to the rules I have here given you. I will add one observation more, and two examples to enforce it; and then, as the parsons say, conclude.
After all this, you might say that it’s impossible to please everyone. I agree; however, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to make as many people happy as you can. In fact, I’ll go further and admit that it’s impossible for anyone not to have some enemies. But based on my long experience, I can say that the person with the most friends and the fewest enemies is the strongest; they will rise the highest with the least envy, and if they do fall, they will do so more gently and will be the most pitied. This is certainly a goal worth striving for. Go after it according to the guidelines I’ve laid out for you. I’ll make one more point and provide two examples to illustrate it; then, as the pastors say, I’ll wrap up.
There is no one creature so obscure, so low, or so poor, who may not, by the strange and unaccountable changes and vicissitudes of human affairs, somehow or other, and some time or other, become an useful friend or a trouble-some enemy, to the greatest and the richest. The late Duke of Ormond was almost the weakest but at the same time the best-bred, and most popular man in this kingdom. His education in courts and camps, joined to an easy, gentle nature, had given him that habitual affability, those engaging manners, and those mechanical attentions, that almost supplied the place of every talent he wanted; and he wanted almost every one. They procured him the love of all men, without the esteem of any. He was impeached after the death of Queen Anne, only because that, having been engaged in the same measures with those who were necessarily to be impeached, his impeachment, for form’s sake, became necessary. But he was impeached without acrimony, and without the lest intention that he should suffer, notwithstanding the party violence of those times. The question for his impeachment, in the House of Commons, was carried by many fewer votes than any other question of impeachment; and Earl Stanhope, then Mr. Stanhope, and Secretary’ of State, who impeached him, very soon after negotiated and concluded his accommodation with the late King; to whom he was to have been presented the next day. But the late Bishop of Rochester, Atterbury, who thought that the Jacobite cause might suffer by losing the Duke of Ormond, went in all haste, and prevailed with the poor weak man to run away; assuring him that he was only to be gulled into a disgraceful submission, and not to be pardoned in consequence of it. When his subsequent attainder passed, it excited mobs and disturbances in town. He had not a personal enemy in the world; and had a thousand friends. All this was simply owing to his natural desire of pleasing, and to the mechanical means that his education, not his parts, had given him of doing it. The other instance is the late Duke of Marlborough, who studied the art of pleasing, because he well knew the importance of it: he enjoyed and used it more than ever man did. He gained whoever he had a mind to gain; and he had a mind to gain everybody, because he knew that everybody was more or less worth gaining. Though his power, as Minister and General, made him many political and party enemies, they did not make him one personal one; and the very people who would gladly have displaced, disgraced, and perhaps attainted the Duke of Marlborough, at the same time personally loved Mr. Churchill, even though his private character was blemished by sordid avarice, the most unamiable of all vices. He had wound up and turned his whole machine to please and engage. He had an inimitable sweetness and gentleness in his countenance, a tenderness in his manner of speaking, a graceful dignity in every motion, and an universal and minute attention to the least things that could possibly please the least person. This was all art in him; art of which he well knew and enjoyed the advantages; for no man ever had more interior ambition, pride, and avarice, than he had.
There isn't a single person who is so obscure, so lowly, or so poor that they can't, through the strange and unpredictable twists of human life, somehow become a useful friend or a troublesome enemy to the powerful and wealthy. The late Duke of Ormond was among the weakest, yet also one of the best-mannered and most liked individuals in the kingdom. His upbringing in courts and military camps, combined with his easygoing nature, gave him a natural charm, engaging mannerisms, and a set of polite gestures that almost made up for all the skills he lacked; and he lacked nearly all of them. This earned him the affection of many, although not the respect of any. He was impeached after Queen Anne's death, simply because he had been involved with those who were going to be impeached, making his own impeachment necessary for appearances. However, he was impeached without malice and without anyone really wanting him to suffer, despite the political turmoil of those times. The vote in the House of Commons for his impeachment had significantly fewer votes than any other impeachment motion, and Earl Stanhope, then Mr. Stanhope and Secretary of State, who was behind his impeachment, soon afterward worked out a deal for his reconciliation with the late King, with whom he was scheduled to meet the following day. However, the late Bishop of Rochester, Atterbury, fearing that the Jacobite cause would be weakened by losing the Duke of Ormond, rushed to convince the poor, weak man to flee, assuring him that he would only be set up for a humiliating submission that would lead to no pardon. When his subsequent attainder happened, it caused riots and unrest in the city. He had no personal enemies and had a thousand friends. All this was simply due to his natural desire to please and the learned habits from his education, rather than any inherent talent. The other example is the late Duke of Marlborough, who mastered the art of pleasing others because he understood its significance. He enjoyed and used this skill more than anyone else ever did. He won over anyone he wanted, and he aimed to win over everyone because he recognized that everyone had some value. Although his power as a leader and military general created many political and party opponents, it did not create any personal enemies. The same people who would have loved to remove, disgrace, or even attaint the Duke of Marlborough still personally liked Mr. Churchill, despite his private reputation being marred by greed, the least admirable of all vices. He had expertly crafted his approach to charm and engage. He had an unmatched sweetness and gentleness in his expression, a tenderness in how he spoke, a graceful dignity in all of his movements, and an attentive care toward even the smallest details that could please anyone. This was all skill on his part; a skill he was well aware of and enjoyed benefiting from, for no one had more deep-seated ambition, pride, and greed than he did.
Though you have more than most people of your age, you have yet very little experience and knowledge of the world; now, I wish to inoculate mine upon you, and thereby prevent both the dangers and the marks of youth and inexperience. If you receive the matter kindly, and observe my prescriptions scrupulously, you will secure the future advantages of time and join them to the present inestimable ones of one-and-twenty.
Although you have more than many people your age, you still have very little experience and knowledge of the world; now, I want to share mine with you, and in doing so, help you avoid the risks and pitfalls of youth and inexperience. If you take this advice to heart and follow my guidance carefully, you'll combine the future benefits of time with the priceless advantages of being twenty-one.
I most earnestly recommend one thing to you, during your present stay at Paris. I own it is not the most agreeable; but I affirm it to be the most useful thing in the world to one of your age; and therefore I do hope that you will force and constrain yourself to do it. I mean, to converse frequently, or rather to be in company frequently with both men and women much your superiors in age and rank. I am very sensible that, at your age, ‘vous y entrez pour peu de chose, et meme souvent pour rien, et que vous y passerez meme quelques mauvais quart-d’heures’; but no matter; you will be a solid gainer by it: you will see, hear, and learn the turn and manners of those people; you will gain premature experience by it; and it will give you a habit of engaging and respectful attentions. Versailles, as much as possible, though probably unentertaining: the Palais Royal often, however dull: foreign ministers of the first rank, frequently, and women, though old, who are respectable and respected for their rank or parts; such as Madame de Pusieux, Madame de Nivernois, Madame d’Aiguillon, Madame Geoffrain, etc. This ‘sujetion’, if it be one to you, will cost you but very little in these three or four months that you are yet to pass in Paris, and will bring you in a great deal; nor will it, nor ought it, to hinder you from being in a more entertaining company a great part of the day. ‘Vous pouvez, si vous le voulex, tirer un grand parti de ces quatre mois’. May God make you so, and bless you! Adieu.
I strongly recommend one thing to you during your stay in Paris. I admit it might not be the most enjoyable, but I assure you it’s the most valuable thing for someone your age; so I really hope you’ll make yourself do it. I mean, try to spend time chatting and being around both men and women who are much older and of higher status than you. I understand that, at your age, you might feel like you’re entering these conversations for little reason, and you may even have some awkward moments; but it doesn't matter—you’ll benefit greatly from it. You’ll see, hear, and learn how these people behave and interact; you’ll gain valuable experience early on, and it will help you develop the habit of engaging with respect. Visit Versailles as much as you can, even though it might feel a bit dull: go to the Palais Royal, even if it's not exciting; meet high-ranking foreign ministers regularly, and also respectable older women known for their status or intelligence, like Madame de Pusieux, Madame de Nivernois, Madame d’Aiguillon, Madame Geoffrain, and others. This effort, if it feels burdensome to you, will cost you very little in the three or four months you have left in Paris and will bring you a lot in return; it shouldn’t stop you from enjoying more entertaining company for a good part of the day. If you want, you can make the most of these four months. May God help you and bless you! Goodbye.
LETTER CLXXXII
BATH, November 16, O. S. 1752.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Vanity, or to call it by a gentler name, the desire of admiration and applause, is, perhaps, the most universal principle of human actions; I do not say that it is the best; and I will own that it is sometimes the cause of both foolish and criminal effects. But it is so much oftener the principle of right things, that though they ought to have a better, yet, considering human nature, that principle is to be encouraged and cherished, in consideration of its effects. Where that desire is wanting, we are apt to be indifferent, listless, indolent, and inert; we do not exert our powers; and we appear to be as much below ourselves as the vainest man living can desire to appear above what he really is.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Vanity, or as we might call it more gently, the desire for admiration and praise, is probably the most universal driving force behind human behavior. I’m not saying it’s the best quality; in fact, I admit it can lead to both foolish and harmful outcomes. However, it usually motivates people to do the right things more often. Although it would be nice if we had a better principle to guide us, given human nature, we should support and nurture this desire because of its positive effects. When this desire is absent, we tend to become indifferent, apathetic, lazy, and inactive; we don't use our abilities, and we seem to fall short of our potential just as much as the most vain person strives to appear greater than they really are.
As I have made you my confessor, and do not scruple to confess even my weaknesses to you, I will fairly own that I had that vanity, that weakness, if it be one, to a prodigious degree; and, what is more, I confess it without repentance: nay, I am glad I had it; since, if I have had the good fortune to please in the world, it is to that powerful and active principle that I owe it. I began the world, not with a bare desire, but with an insatiable thirst, a rage of popularity, applause, and admiration. If this made me do some silly things on one hand, it made me, on the other hand, do almost all the right things that I did; it made me attentive and civil to the women I disliked, and to the men I despised, in hopes of the applause of both: though I neither desired, nor would I have accepted the favors of the one, nor the friendship of the other. I always dressed, looked, and talked my best; and, I own, was overjoyed whenever I perceived, that by all three, or by any one of them, the company was pleased with me. To men, I talked whatever I thought would give them the best opinion of my parts and learning; and to women, what I was sure would please them; flattery, gallantry, and love. And, moreover, I will own to you, under the secrecy of confession, that my vanity has very often made me take great pains to make a woman in love with me, if I could, for whose person I would not have given a pinch of snuff. In company with men, I always endeavored to outshine, or at least, if possible, to equal the most shining man in it. This desire elicited whatever powers I had to gratify it; and where I could not perhaps shine in the first, enabled me, at least, to shine in a second or third sphere. By these means I soon grew in fashion; and when a man is once in fashion, all he does is right. It was infinite pleasure to me to find my own fashion and popularity. I was sent for to all parties of pleasure, both of men or women; where, in some measure, I gave the ‘ton’. This gave me the reputation of having had some women of condition; and that reputation, whether true or false, really got me others. With the men I was a Proteus, and assumed every shape, in order to please them all: among the gay, I was the gayest; among the grave, the gravest; and I never omitted the least attentions of good-breeding, or the least offices of friendship, that could either please, or attach them to me: and accordingly I was soon connected with all the men of any fashion or figure in town.
Since I’ve made you my confidant and don’t hesitate to share even my faults with you, I’ll honestly admit that I had that vanity—if it’s a weakness—to an extreme degree; and what’s more, I confess it without regret: in fact, I’m glad I had it. After all, if I’ve been fortunate enough to be liked in the world, it’s thanks to that powerful and active trait. I started out not just with a simple wish, but with an insatiable thirst, a craving for popularity, applause, and admiration. While this led me to do some foolish things, it also pushed me to do almost all the right things I accomplished; it made me polite and attentive to the women I didn’t like, and to the men I couldn’t stand, hoping to win the applause of both, even though I didn’t want their favors or their friendship. I always dressed, looked, and spoke my best; and I admit I was thrilled whenever I noticed that my efforts pleased the company in any way. I spoke to men about whatever I thought would earn me their respect and admiration, and to women, I said what I knew would make them happy: flattery, charm, and a touch of romance. Furthermore, I’ll confess to you under the guise of secrecy that my vanity often pushed me to pursue women I didn’t really care about, just to see if I could make them fall for me. When I was around men, I always tried to outshine—or at least match—the most impressive guy in the group. This drive brought out whatever abilities I had to satisfy it; and where I couldn’t be first, I at least managed to shine in second or third place. Because of this, I quickly became popular; and once a man achieves popularity, everything he does seems right. It brought me immense joy to see my own status and popularity grow. I was invited to all the social events, both for men and women, where I even set the trend to some extent. This earned me a reputation for having been with some notable women, and that reputation, whether true or not, actually attracted more opportunities. With men, I was like Proteus, adapting to every situation to please them all: among the lively, I was the liveliest; among the serious, the most serious; and I never overlooked the smallest courtesies or acts of friendship that could either please or connect them to me. As a result, I soon formed connections with all the fashionable or notable men in town.
To this principle of vanity, which philosophers call a mean one, and which I do not, I owe great part of the figure which I have made in life. I wish you had as much, but I fear you have too little of it; and you seem to have a degree of laziness and listlessness about you that makes you indifferent as to general applause. This is not in character at your age, and would be barely pardonable in an elderly and philosophical man. It is a vulgar, ordinary saying, but it is a very true one, that one should always put the best foot foremost. One should please, shine, and dazzle, wherever it is possible. At Paris, I am sure you must observe ‘que chacun se fait valoir autant qu’il est possible’; and La Bruyere observes, very justly, qu’on ne vaut dans ce monde que ce qu’on veut valoir’: wherever applause is in question, you will never see a French man, nor woman, remiss or negligent. Observe the eternal attentions and politeness that all people have there for one another. ‘Ce n’est pas pour leurs beaux yeux au moins’. No, but for their own sakes, for commendations and applause. Let me then recommend this principle of vanity to you; act upon it ‘meo periculo’; I promise you it will turn to your account. Practice all the arts that ever coquette did, to please. Be alert and indefatigable in making every man admire, and every woman in love with you. I can tell you too, that nothing will carry you higher in the world.
To this principle of vanity, which philosophers call a moderate one, and which I do not, I owe a big part of the success I've had in life. I wish you had as much of it, but I fear you have too little; you seem to carry a sense of laziness and apathy that makes you indifferent to general praise. This isn't fitting for someone your age and would barely be excusable for an older, philosophical person. It’s a common saying, but it’s very true that one should always put their best foot forward. One should please, shine, and dazzle whenever possible. In Paris, I’m sure you’ve noticed that “everyone promotes themselves as much as they can”; and La Bruyere rightly notes that “we are only worth what we wish to be worth”: when it comes to praise, you’ll never see a French man or woman slacking off. Notice the constant attention and politeness that people show to one another there. “It’s not just for their good looks.” No, but for their own interests, for compliments and recognition. So, I recommend this principle of vanity to you; act on it “at your own risk”; I promise it will benefit you. Use all the tricks that any flirt ever did to please. Be alert and tireless in making every man admire you and every woman fall in love with you. I can also tell you that nothing will get you further in the world.
I have had no letter from you since your arrival at Paris, though you must have been long enough there to have written me two or three. In about ten or twelve days I propose leaving this place, and going to London; I have found considerable benefit by my stay here, but not all that I want. Make my compliments to Lord Albemarle.
I haven’t received any letters from you since you got to Paris, even though you’ve been there long enough to write me a couple. In about ten or twelve days, I plan to leave this place and head to London; I've really benefited from my time here, but I still need more. Please give my regards to Lord Albemarle.
LETTER CLXXXIII
BATH, November 28, 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: Since my last to you, I have read Madame Maintenon’s “Letters”; I am sure they are genuine, and they both entertained and informed me. They have brought me acquainted with the character of that able and artful lady; whom I am convinced that I now know much better than her directeur the Abby de Fenelon (afterward Archbishop of Cambray) did, when he wrote her the 185th letter; and I know him the better too for that letter. The Abby, though brimful of the divine love, had a great mind to be first minister, and cardinal, in order, NO DOUBT, to have an opportunity of doing the more good. His being ‘directeur’ at that time to Madame Maintenon, seemed to be a good step toward those views. She put herself upon him for a saint, and he was weak enough to believe it; he, on the other hand, would have put himself upon her for a saint too, which, I dare say, she did not believe; but both of them knew that it was necessary for them to appear saints to Lewis the Fourteenth, who they were very sure was a bigot. It is to be presumed, nay, indeed, it is plain by that 185th letter that Madame Maintenon had hinted to her directeur some scruples of conscience, with relation to her commerce with the King; and which I humbly apprehend to have been only some scruples of prudence, at once to flatter the bigot character, and increase the desires of the King. The pious Abbe, frightened out of his wits, lest the King should impute to the ‘directeur’ any scruples or difficulties which he might meet with on the part of the lady, writes her the above-mentioned letter; in which he not only bids her not tease the King by advice and exhortations, but to have the utmost submission to his will; and, that she may not mistake the nature of that submission, he tells her it is the same that Sarah had for Abraham; to which submission Isaac perhaps was owing. No bawd could have written a more seducing letter to an innocent country girl, than the ‘directeur’ did to his ‘penitente’; who I dare say had no occasion for his good advice. Those who would justify the good ‘directeur’, alias the pimp, in this affair, must not attempt to do it by saying that the King and Madame Maintenon were at that time privately married; that the directeur knew it; and that this was the meaning of his ‘enigme’. That is absolutely impossible; for that private marriage must have removed all scruples between the parties; nay, could not have been contracted upon any other principle, since it was kept private, and consequently prevented no public scandal. It is therefore extremely evident that Madame Maintenon could not be married to the King at the time when she scrupled granting, and when the ‘directeur’ advised her to grant, those favors which Sarah with so much submission granted to Abraham: and what the ‘directeur’ is pleased to call ‘le mystere de Dieu’, was most evidently a state of concubinage. The letters are very well worth your reading; they throw light upon many things of those times.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Since my last message to you, I have read Madame Maintenon’s “Letters”; I’m certain they’re authentic, and they both entertained and informed me. They’ve helped me understand the character of that clever and manipulative woman; I now feel I know her much better than her director, the Abbe de Fenelon (later Archbishop of Cambray), did when he wrote her the 185th letter; and I understand him better too because of that letter. The Abbe, despite being full of divine love, had ambitions to be the chief minister and cardinal, probably to have a chance to do more good. Being the 'director' for Madame Maintenon at that time seemed like a good step toward those ambitions. She presented herself to him as a saint, and he was naive enough to believe it; on the other hand, he would have presented her as a saint too, which I doubt she accepted; but both of them knew they needed to appear saintly to Louis the Fourteenth, whom they were sure was a bigot. It’s clear from the 185th letter that Madame Maintenon expressed to her director some concerns about her relationship with the King; I humbly believe these were more about prudence, trying to appease the bigot’s image while increasing the King’s desires. The pious Abbe, terrified that the King might think he had any concerns or issues caused by the lady, wrote her the aforementioned letter; in it, he not only instructed her not to pester the King with advice and sermons, but to completely submit to his will; and to ensure she understood what that submission meant, he told her it was the same kind Sarah had for Abraham, to which Isaac might owe his existence. No procurer could have penned a more tempting letter to an innocent country girl than the director did to his ‘penitent’; I’m sure she didn’t need his advice. Those who try to justify the good ‘director’, aka the pimp, in this matter shouldn’t argue that the King and Madame Maintenon were privately married at that time; that the director knew this; and that this was the meaning of his ‘riddle’. That’s completely impossible; that private marriage would have removed any concerns between them; it could only have been conceived on that principle since it was kept secret, thus avoiding any public scandal. Therefore, it’s very evident that Madame Maintenon couldn’t have been married to the King while she hesitated to grant, and when the director advised her to grant, those favors which Sarah submitted to Abraham with so much grace: and what the director likes to call ‘the mystery of God’ was obviously a situation of concubinage. The letters are definitely worth reading; they shed light on many events from that era.
I have just received a letter from Sir William Stanhope, from Lyons; in which he tells me that he saw you at Paris, that he thinks you a little grown, but that you do not make the most of it, for that you stoop still: ‘d’ailleurs’ his letter was a panegyric of you.
I just got a letter from Sir William Stanhope in Lyons, where he tells me he saw you in Paris. He thinks you've grown a bit, but that you're not really making the most of it because you still slouch. By the way, his letter praised you a lot.
The young Comte de Schullemburg, the Chambellan whom you knew at Hanover, is come over with the King, ‘et fait aussi vos eloges’.
The young Count de Schullemburg, the Chamberlain you knew in Hanover, has come over with the King and is also praising you.
Though, as I told you in my last, I have done buying pictures, by way of ‘virtu’, yet there are some portraits of remarkable people that would tempt me. For instance, if you could by chance pick up at Paris, at a reasonable price, and undoubted originals (whether heads, half lengths, or whole lengths, no matter) of Cardinals Richelieu, Mazarin, and Retz, Monsieur de Turenne, le grand Prince de Condo; Mesdames de Montespan, de Fontanges, de Montbazon, de Sevigne, de Maintenon, de Chevreuse, de Longueville, d’Olonne, etc., I should be tempted to purchase them. I am sensible that they can only be met with, by great accident, at family sales and auctions, so I only mention the affair to you eventually.
Although, as I mentioned in my last message, I’ve stopped buying pictures for my collection, there are still some portraits of notable figures that would catch my eye. For example, if you happen to find in Paris, at a reasonable price, authentic originals (whether they’re headshots, half-length, or full-length portraits) of Cardinals Richelieu, Mazarin, and Retz, Monsieur de Turenne, the great Prince de Condo; and Mesdames de Montespan, de Fontanges, de Montbazon, de Sevigne, de Maintenon, de Chevreuse, de Longueville, d’Olonne, etc., I would be tempted to buy them. I realize that these can only be found by sheer luck, usually at family sales and auctions, so I’m just bringing this up to you as a possibility.
I do not understand, or else I do not remember, what affair you mean in your last letter; which you think will come to nothing, and for which, you say, I had once a mind that you should take the road again. Explain it to me.
I don’t understand, or maybe I just don’t remember, what situation you’re referring to in your last letter; the one you think won’t lead anywhere, and about which you mentioned I once wanted you to go down that path again. Can you clarify it for me?
I shall go to town in four or five days, and carry back with me a little more hearing than I brought; but yet, not half enough for common wants. One wants ready pocket-money much oftener than one wants great sums; and to use a very odd expression, I want to hear at sight. I love every-day senses, every-day wit and entertainment; a man who is only good on holydays is good for very little. Adieu.
I’ll head into town in four or five days and bring back a bit more cash than I had, but still not nearly enough for everyday needs. You need pocket money way more often than you need large amounts. To put it in a strange way, I want to understand things right away. I enjoy everyday experiences, normal humor, and simple entertainment; a person who’s only fun on special occasions isn’t worth much. Goodbye.
LETTER CLXXXIV
Christmas Day, 1752
MY DEAR FRIEND: A tyrant with legions at his com mand may say, Oderint modo timeant; though he is a fool if he says it, and a greater fool if he thinks it. But a private man who can hurt but few, though he can please many, must endeavor to be loved, for he cannot be feared in general. Popularity is his only rational and sure foundation. The good-will, the affections, the love of the public, can alone raise him to any considerable height. Should you ask me how he is to acquire them, I will answer, By desiring them. No man ever deserved, who did not desire them; and no man both deserved and desired them who had them not, though many have enjoyed them merely by desiring, and without deserving them. You do not imagine, I believe, that I mean by this public love the sentimental love of either lovers or intimate friends; no, that is of another nature, and confined to a very narrow circle; but I mean that general good-will which a man may acquire in the world, by the arts of pleasing respectively exerted according to the rank, the situation, and the turn of mind of those whom he hath to do with. The pleasing impressions which he makes upon them will engage their affections and their good wishes, and even their good offices as far (that is) as they are not inconsistent with their own interests; for further than that you are not to expect from three people in the course of your life, even were it extended to the patriarchal term. Could I revert to the age of twenty, and carry back with me all the experience that forty years more have taught me, I can assure you, that I would employ much the greatest part of my time in engaging the good-will, and in insinuating myself into the predilection of people in general, instead of directing my endeavors to please (as I was too apt to do) to the man whom I immediately wanted, or the woman I wished for, exclusively of all others. For if one happens (and it will sometimes happen to the ablest man) to fail in his views with that man or that woman, one is at a loss to know whom to address one’s self to next, having offended in general, by that exclusive and distinguished particular application. I would secure a general refuge in the good-will of the multitude, which is a great strength to any man; for both ministers and mistresses choose popular and fashionable favorites. A man who solicits a minister, backed by the general good-will and good wishes of mankind, solicits with great weight and great probability of success; and a woman is strangely biassed in favor of a man whom she sees in fashion, and hears everybody speak well of. This useful art of insinuation consists merely of various little things. A graceful motion, a significant look, a trifling attention, an obliging word dropped ‘a propos’, air, dress, and a thousand other undefinable things, all severally little ones, joined together, make that happy and inestimable composition, THE ART OF PLEASING. I have in my life seen many a very handsome woman who has not pleased me, and many very sensible men who have disgusted me. Why? only for want of those thousand little means to please, which those women, conscious of their beauty, and those men of their sense, have been grossly enough mistaken to neglect. I never was so much in love in my life, as I was with a woman who was very far from being handsome; but then she was made up of graces, and had all the arts of pleasing. The following verses, which I have read in some congratulatory poem prefixed to some work, I have forgot which, express what I mean in favor of what pleases preferably to what is generally called mare solid and instructive:
MY DEAR FRIEND: A tyrant with armies at his command might say, "Let them hate as long as they fear"; yet he is foolish to say it, and even more foolish to believe it. However, a private individual who can harm only a few but can please many should strive to be loved, for he generally cannot inspire fear. Popularity is his only rational and reliable foundation. The goodwill, affection, and love of the public can elevate him to any significant height. If you were to ask me how he can gain them, I would respond, by wanting them. No one ever deserved affection who didn't desire it; and no one both deserved and desired it who didn't have it, although many have enjoyed it merely by wanting it, without deserving it. You probably don't think that I mean public affection as the sentimental love found between lovers or close friends; no, that love is of another kind and very limited in scope; instead, I mean the general goodwill that a person can earn in the world by pleasing others according to their status, circumstances, and personalities. The positive impressions he leaves on people will engage their affections and good wishes, and even their assistance as far as it doesn't conflict with their own interests. You shouldn't expect more than that from three people in your lifetime, even if it were to last as long as the ages of the patriarchs. If I could go back to when I was twenty and bring with me all the knowledge that forty more years have taught me, I would spend much of my time winning the goodwill and ingratiating myself with the favor of the general public, instead of focusing solely on pleasing the one individual I wanted, whether that be a man or a woman, to the exclusion of everyone else. Because if a talented person happens to fail to win the attention of that particular man or woman, they will be at a loss for whom to approach next, having offended many by that focused and exclusive pursuit. I would seek refuge in the goodwill of the multitude, which is a significant advantage for anyone; both ministers and mistresses prefer popular favorites. A man who seeks favor from a minister, supported by the general goodwill and best wishes of the public, has a greater chance of success; and a woman is oddly influenced in favor of a man who is fashionable and whom she hears everyone praising. This useful skill of ingratiation consists of various small elements. A graceful gesture, a meaningful glance, a small act of kindness, a well-timed compliment, style, appearance, and countless other indefinable features—each small individually, when combined, create that remarkable and invaluable skill, THE ART OF PLEASING. Throughout my life, I've encountered many beautiful women who didn’t appeal to me and many intelligent men who repulsed me. Why? Simply due to the absence of those countless little ways to please, which those women, aware of their beauty, and those men, aware of their intelligence, have foolishly chosen to ignore. I have never been more in love than I was with a woman who was far from beautiful; but she was full of grace and possessed all the arts of pleasing. The following lines, which I read in some congratulatory poem at the start of a work (though I've forgotten which), articulate my point in favor of what pleases rather than what is traditionally deemed more substantial 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.”
“I would have an author like a lover, not for their nose, lip, cheek, or eye, but for some indescribable ability to bring me pleasure.”
Lady Chesterfield bids me make you many compliments; she showed me your letter of recommendation of La Vestres; with which I was very well pleased: there is a pretty turn in it; I wish you would always speak as genteelly. I saw another letter from a lady at Paris, in which there was a high panegyrical paragraph concerning you. I wish it were every word of it literally true; but, as it comes from a very little, pretty, white hand, which is suspected, and I hope justly, of great partiality to you: ‘il en faut rabattre quelque chose, et meme en le faisant it y aura toujours d’assez beaux restes’. Adieu.
Lady Chesterfield asked me to send you her compliments. She showed me your recommendation letter for La Vestres, which I really liked; it has a nice touch to it. I wish you would always express yourself so elegantly. I also saw another letter from a lady in Paris that has a very flattering paragraph about you. I wish every word of it was completely true, but since it’s from a very small, pretty, white hand that is suspected—hopefully justly—of being quite partial to you: ‘one must take something away from it, and even so, there will still be some beautiful remnants.’ Goodbye.
1753-1754
LETTER CLXXXV
LETTER 185
LONDON, New Years’ Day, 1753
LONDON, New Year's Day, 1753
MY DEAR FRIEND: It is now above a fortnight since I have received a letter from you. I hope, however, that you are well, but engrossed by the business of Lord Albemarle’s ‘bureau’ in the mornings, and by business of a genteeler nature in the evenings; for I willingly give up my own satisfaction to your improvement, either in business or manners.
MY DEAR FRIEND: It has been more than two weeks since I last received a letter from you. I hope you are doing well, busy with Lord Albemarle’s office work in the mornings and more refined activities in the evenings; I gladly sacrifice my own enjoyment for your growth, whether in work or in your social skills.
Here have been lately imported from Paris two gentlemen, who, I find, were much acquainted with you there Comte Zinzendorf, and Monsieur Clairant the Academician. The former is a very pretty man, well-bred, and with a great deal of useful knowledge; for those two things are very consistent. I examined him about you, thinking him a competent judge. He told me, ‘que vous parliez l’Allemand comme un Allemand; que vous saviez le droit public de l’empire parfaitement bien; que vous aviez le gout sur, et des connoissances fort etendues’. I told him that I knew all this very well; but that I wanted to know whether you had l’air, les manieres, les attentions, en fin le brillant d’un honnete homme’: his answer was, ‘Mais oui en verite, c’est fort bien’. This, you see, is but cold in comparison of what I do wish, and of what you ought to wish. Your friend Clairant interposed, and said, ‘Mais je vous assure qu’il est fort poli’; to which I answered, ‘Je le crois bien, vis-a-vis des Lapons vos amis; je vous recuse pour juge, jusqu’a ce que vous ayez ete delaponne, au moins dix ans, parmi les honnetes gens’. These testimonies in your favor are such as perhaps you are satisfied with, and think sufficient; but I am not; they are only the cold depositions of disinterested and unconcerned witnesses, upon a strict examination. When, upon a trial, a man calls witnesses to his character, and that those witnesses only say that they never heard, nor do not know any ill of him, it intimates at best a neutral and insignificant, though innocent character. Now I want, and you ought to endeavor, that ‘les agremens, les graces, les attentions’, etc., should be a distinguishing part of your character, and specified of you by people unasked. I wish to hear people say of you, ‘Ah qu’il est aimable! Quelles manieres, quelles graces, quel art de Claire’! Nature, thank God, has given you all the powers necessary; and if she has not yet, I hope in God she will give you the will of exerting them.
Recently, two gentlemen have arrived from Paris who I’ve learned were quite familiar with you there: Comte Zinzendorf and Monsieur Clairant the Academician. The former is a very handsome man, well-mannered, and possesses a lot of useful knowledge; those two traits often go hand in hand. I asked him about you, thinking he would be a fair judge. He told me, “You speak German like a native; you have a perfect understanding of public law in the empire; you have good taste, and extensive knowledge.” I told him I was already aware of this, but I wanted to know whether you have the charm, manners, and attentiveness that characterize a good person; his response was, “But yes, indeed, he has that very well.” As you can see, this is rather tepid compared to what I truly desire and what you should strive for. Your friend Clairant jumped in and said, “But I assure you he is very polite,” to which I replied, “I certainly believe that, in front of the Lapps, your friends; I dismiss you as a judge until you’ve mingled with respectable people for at least ten years.” These endorsements in your favor are perhaps satisfactory to you and seem sufficient, but they are not for me; they are merely the lukewarm statements of indifferent witnesses upon thorough examination. When a man calls witnesses to testify about his character, and those witnesses only say they have never heard anything bad about him, it suggests at best a neutral and inconsequential, though innocent, reputation. Now I want, and you should strive for, the “charm, grace, attentiveness,” etc., to be a defining part of your character, noted by others without being prompted. I want to hear people say of you, “Ah, how charming! What manners, what grace, what elegance!” Nature, thank God, has given you all the necessary abilities; and if she hasn’t yet, I pray God she will give you the desire to use them.
I have lately read with great pleasure Voltaire’s two little histories of ‘Les Croisades’, and ‘l’Esprit Humain’; which I recommend to your perusal, if you have not already read them. They are bound up with a most poor performance called ‘Micromegas’, which is said to be Voltaire’s too, but I cannot believe it, it is so very unworthy of him; it consists only of thoughts stolen from Swift, but miserably mangled and disfigured. But his history of the ‘Croisades’ shows, in a very short and strong light, the most immoral and wicked scheme that was ever contrived by knaves, and executed by madmen and fools, against humanity. There is a strange but never-failing relation between honest madmen and skillful knaves; and whenever one meets with collected numbers of the former, one may be very sure that they are secretly directed by the latter. The popes, who have generally been both the ablest and the greatest knaves in Europe, wanted all the power and money of the East; for they had all that was in Europe already. The times and the minds favored their design, for they were dark and uniformed; and Peter the Hermit, at once a knave and a madman, was a fine papal tool for so wild and wicked an undertaking. I wish we had good histories of every part of Europe, and indeed of the world, written upon the plan of Voltaire’s ‘de l’Esprit Humain’; for, I own, I am provoked at the contempt which most historians show for humanity in general: one would think by them that the whole human species consisted but of about a hundred and fifty people, called and dignified (commonly very undeservedly too) by the titles of emperors, kings, popes, generals, and ministers.
I recently enjoyed reading Voltaire's two short histories, ‘Les Croisades’ and ‘l’Esprit Humain,’ which I recommend you check out if you haven't already. They come together with a poor piece called ‘Micromegas,’ which is supposedly also by Voltaire, but I can't believe that since it’s so beneath him; it’s just a collection of ideas taken from Swift, but poorly twisted and distorted. However, his history of the ‘Croisades’ clearly and succinctly shows the most immoral and wicked scheme ever devised by dishonest people and carried out by madmen and fools against humanity. There’s a strange but consistent relationship between honest madmen and crafty tricksters; whenever you find a group of the former, you can be sure they’re being secretly guided by the latter. The popes, who have often been the smartest and most cunning tricksters in Europe, wanted all the power and wealth of the East since they already had everything in Europe. The times and people's mindset supported their plan, as they were dark and uninformed; and Peter the Hermit, being both a trickster and a madman, was a perfect papal tool for such a wild and wicked endeavor. I wish we had good histories of every part of Europe and the world written in the style of Voltaire’s ‘de l’Esprit Humain,’ because, honestly, I get frustrated with the disdain most historians have for humanity as a whole: one would think from them that the entire human race consists of only about a hundred and fifty individuals, wrongly called and given the lofty titles of emperors, kings, popes, generals, and ministers.
I have never seen in any of the newspapers any mention of the affairs of the Cevennes, or Grenoble, which you gave me an account of some time ago; and the Duke de Mirepoix pretends, at least, to know nothing of either. Were they false reports? or does the French court choose to stifle them? I hope that they are both true, because I am very willing that the cares of the French government should be employed and confined to themselves.
I’ve never seen anything in the newspapers about the situation in the Cevennes or Grenoble, which you told me about a while ago; and the Duke de Mirepoix claims not to know anything about either. Were those rumors false? Or is the French court trying to cover it up? I hope both are true because I prefer that the concerns of the French government stay focused on their own issues.
Your friend, the Electress Palatine, has sent me six wild boars’ heads, and other ‘pieces de sa chasse’, in return for the fans, which she approved of extremely. This present was signified to me by one Mr. Harold, who wrote me a letter in very indifferent English; I suppose he is a Dane who has been in England.
Your friend, the Electress Palatine, sent me six wild boar heads and other hunting trophies as a thank you for the fans, which she really liked. I was informed about this gift by a Mr. Harold, who wrote me a letter in pretty poor English; I guess he’s a Dane who has been in England.
Mr. Harte came to town yesterday, and dined with me to-day. We talked you over; and I can assure you, that though a parson, and no member ‘du beau monde’, he thinks all the most shining accomplishments of it full as necessary for you as I do. His expression was, THAT IS ALL THAT HE WANTS; BUT IF HE WANTS THAT, CONSIDERING HIS SITUATION AND DESTINATION, HE MIGHT AS WELL WANT EVERYTHING ELSE.
Mr. Harte came to town yesterday and had dinner with me today. We discussed you, and I can assure you that even though he’s a priest and not part of high society, he believes that all the prominent skills and attributes are just as essential for you as I do. He said, "That is all he wants; but if he wants that, considering his situation and future, he might as well want everything else."
This is the day when people reciprocally offer and receive the kindest and the warmest wishes, though, in general, without meaning them on one side, or believing them on the other. They are formed by the head, in compliance with custom, though disavowed by the heart, in consequence of nature. His wishes upon this occasion are the best that are the best turned; you do not, I am sure, doubt the truth of mine, and therefore I will express them with a Quaker-like simplicity. May this new year be a very new one indeed to you; may you put off the old, and put on the new man! but I mean the outward, not the inward man. With this alteration, I might justly sum up all my wishes for you in these words:
This is the day when people exchange their kindest and warmest wishes, although, generally, they don't truly mean them on one side or believe them on the other. They're constructed in the mind, following tradition, but rejected by the heart because of human nature. His wishes for this occasion are truly the best; I'm sure you don’t doubt mine, so I will express them simply, like a Quaker. May this new year be genuinely different for you; may you shed the old and embrace the new! But I’m referring to the outside, not the inside. With this change, I could sum up all my wishes for you in these words:
Dii tibi dent annos, de to nam caetera sumes.
Dii ti give you many years, but the rest you will take from yourself.
This minute, I receive your letter of the 26th past, which gives me a very disagreeable reason for your late silence. By the symptoms which you mention of your illness, I both hope and believe that it was wholly owing to your own want of care. You are rather inclined to be fat, you have naturally a good stomach, and you eat at the best tables; which must of course make you plethoric: and upon my word you will be very subject to these accidents, if you will not, from time to time, when you find yourself full, heated, or your head aching, take some little, easy, preventative purge, that would not confine you; such as chewing a little rhubarb when you go to bed at night; or some senna tea in the morning. You do very well to live extremely low, for some time; and I could wish, though I do not expect it, that you would take one gentle vomit; for those giddinesses and swimmings in the head always proceed from some foulness of the stomach. However, upon the whole, I am very glad that your old complaint has not mixed itself with this, which I am fully convinced arises simply from your own negligence. Adieu.
Right now, I’ve just received your letter from the 26th, which gives me an unpleasant explanation for your recent silence. Based on the symptoms you mentioned about your illness, I both hope and believe that it was mostly due to your lack of self-care. You tend to be on the heavier side, you have a naturally good appetite, and you eat at the finest places, which must make you prone to being overindulgent. Honestly, you’ll be quite susceptible to these issues if you don’t occasionally take a mild, preventative remedy when you feel full, overheated, or have a headache, like chewing a bit of rhubarb before bed or sipping some senna tea in the morning. It’s a good idea for you to eat very lightly for a while, and I wish, though I don’t expect it, that you would consider taking a gentle laxative; those dizzy spells and lightheadedness usually stem from some issue in your stomach. Overall, I’m really glad that your previous health issue hasn’t flared up with this one, which I’m convinced is just due to your own carelessness. Goodbye.
I am sorry for Monsieur Kurze, upon his sister’s account.
I feel sorry for Mr. Kurze because of his sister.
LETTER CLXXXVI
LONDON, January 15, 1753
MY DEAR FRIEND: I never think my time so well employed, as when I think it employed to your advantage. You have long had the greatest share of it; you now engross it. The moment is now decisive; the piece is going to be exhibited to the public; the mere out lines and the general coloring are not sufficient to attract the eyes and to secure applause; but the last finishing, artful, and delicate strokes are necessary. Skillful judges will discern and acknowledge their merit; the ignorant will, without knowing why, feel their power. In that view, I have thrown together, for your perusal, some maxims; or, to speak more properly, observations on men and things; for I have no merit as to the invention: I am no system monger; and, instead of giving way to my imagination, I have only consulted my memory; and my conclusions are all drawn from facts, not from fancy. Most maxim mongers have preferred the prettiness to the justness of a thought, and the turn to the truth; but I have refused myself to everything that my own experience did not justify and confirm. I wish you would consider them seriously, and separately, and recur to them again ‘pro re nata’ in similar cases. Young men are as apt to think themselves wise enough, as drunken men are to think themselves sober enough. They look upon spirit to be a much better thing than experience; which they call coldness. They are but half mistaken; for though spirit, without experience, is dangerous, experience, without spirit, is languid and defective. Their union, which is very rare, is perfection; you may join them, if you please; for all my experience is at your service; and I do not desire one grain of your spirit in return. Use them both, and let them reciprocally animate and check each other. I mean here, by the spirit of youth, only the vivacity and presumption of youth, which hinder them from seeing the difficulties or dangers of an undertaking, but I do not mean what the silly vulgar call spirit, by which they are captious, jealous of their rank, suspicious of being undervalued, and tart (as they call it) in their repartees, upon the slightest occasions. This is an evil, and a very silly spirit, which should be driven out, and transferred to an herd of swine. This is not the spirit of a man of fashion, who has kept good company. People of an ordinary, low education, when they happen to fail into good company, imagine themselves the only object of its attention; if the company whispers, it is, to be sure, concerning them; if they laugh, it is at them; and if anything ambiguous, that by the most forced interpretation can be applied to them, happens to be said, they are convinced that it was meant at them; upon which they grow out of countenance first, and then angry. This mistake is very well ridiculed in the “Stratagem,” where Scrub says, I AM SURE THEY TALKED OF ME FOR THEY LAUGHED CONSUMEDLY. A well-bred man seldom thinks, but never seems to think himself slighted, undervalued, or laughed at in company, unless where it is so plainly marked out, that his honor obliges him to resent it in a proper manner; ‘mais les honnetes gens ne se boudent jamais’. I will admit that it is very difficult to command one’s self enough, to behave with ease, frankness, and good-breeding toward those, who one knows dislike, slight, and injure one, as far as they can, without personal consequences; but I assert that it is absolutely necessary to do it: you must embrace the man you hate, if you cannot be justified in knocking him down; for otherwise you avow the injury which you cannot revenge. A prudent cuckold (and there are many such at Paris) pockets his horns when he cannot gore with them; and will not add to the triumph of his maker by only butting with them ineffectually. A seeming ignorance is very often a most necessary part of worldly knowledge. It is, for instance, commonly advisable to seem ignorant of what people offer to tell you; and when they say, Have you not heard of such a thing? to answer No, and to let them go on; though you know it already. Some have a pleasure in telling it, because they think that they tell it well; others have a pride in it, as being the sagacious discoverers; and many have a vanity in showing that they have been, though very undeservedly, trusted; all these would be disappointed, and consequently displeased, if you said Yes. Seem always ignorant (unless to one’s most intimate friend) of all matters of private scandal and defamation, though you should hear them a thousand times; for the parties affected always look upon the receiver to be almost as bad as the thief: and, whenever they become the topic of conversation seem to be a skeptic, though you are really a serious believer; and always take the extenuating part. But all this seeming ignorance should be joined to thorough and extensive private informations: and, indeed, it is the best method of procuring them; for most people have such a vanity in showing a superiority over others, though but for a moment, and in the merest trifles, that they will tell you what they should not, rather than not show that they can tell what you did not know; besides that such seeming ignorance will make you pass for incurious and consequently undesigning. However, fish for facts, and take pains to be well informed of everything that passes; but fish judiciously, and not always, nor indeed often, in the shape of direct questions, which always put people upon their guard, and, often repeated, grow tiresome. But sometimes take the things that you would know for granted; upon which somebody will, kindly and officiously, set you right: sometimes say that you have heard so and so; and at other times seem to know more than you do, in order to know all that you want; but avoid direct questioning as much as you can. All these necessary arts of the world require constant attention, presence of mind, and coolness. Achilles, though invulnerable, never went to battle but completely armed. Courts are to be the theatres of your wars, where you should be always as completely armed, and even with the addition of a heel-piece. The least inattention, the least DISTRACTION, may prove fatal. I would fain see you what pedants call ‘omnis homo’, and what Pope much better calls ALL-ACCOMPLISHED: you have the means in your power; add the will; and you may bring it about. The vulgar have a coarse saying, of SPOILING A SHIP FOR A HALFPENNY WORTH OF TAR; prevent the application by providing the tar: it is very easily to be had in comparison with what you have already got.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I never feel my time is better spent than when I know it's for your benefit. You've had the majority of my time for quite a while; now you occupy it completely. This moment is crucial; the piece is about to be shown to the public; the basic outlines and overall coloring won't be enough to draw attention and earn praise; the final, skillful, delicate touches are essential. Experienced judges will recognize their value; the uninformed will, without understanding why, feel their impact. With that in mind, I've gathered some maxims, or more accurately, observations about people and situations for you to read; I take no credit for their invention: I'm not a theorist; and instead of indulging my imagination, I've simply relied on my memory; all my conclusions come from facts, not fiction. Most people who come up with maxims prioritize cleverness over accuracy and style over truth; however, I have refrained from anything my own experience couldn't validate. I hope you take these observations seriously, reflect on them individually, and revisit them as needed in similar situations. Young men often think they're much wiser than they are, just like drunk people believe they're sober enough. They view enthusiasm as far superior to experience, which they dismiss as coldness. They're partly wrong; while enthusiasm without experience can be risky, experience without enthusiasm is dull and incomplete. The ideal combination, which is quite rare, is perfection; you can achieve this if you wish, as all my experience is at your disposal, and I don't expect anything in return for your enthusiasm. Use both, and let them inspire and balance each other. Here, I mean the vigor and overconfidence of youth, which prevents them from recognizing challenges or risks in a task, but I don’t imply what the foolish masses call spirit, which makes them petty, rank-conscious, resentful, and sharp-tongued over trivial matters. This is a flaw, a foolish attitude that should be cast aside. This is not the mindset of a cultured person who has mingled with the right crowd. Those with typical, lower education, when they find themselves in good company, often think they're the center of attention; if others whisper, it's surely about them; if they laugh, it's at their expense; and if something vaguely relates to them, they believe it’s aimed at them—leading them to be offended first, then angry. This misconception is humorously highlighted in the “Stratagem,” where Scrub says, I’M SURE THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT ME BECAUSE THEY LAUGHED SO MUCH. A well-mannered person rarely thinks about it but never behaves as if he's been disrespected, undervalued, or laughed at, unless it's evidently blatant and his dignity compels him to respond appropriately; “but the honest never sulk.” I concede it's tough to keep oneself composed and act naturally, openly, and courteously toward those who you know dislike and undermine you as much as they can without facing consequences; but I assert it's crucial to do so: you must tolerate the person you dislike if you can't justifiably confront him; otherwise, you acknowledge an insult you can't retaliate against. A sensible cuckold (and there are many in Paris) accepts his situation when he can't confront it and won't add to his maker's triumph by ineffectively venting his frustration. A facade of ignorance is often a vital part of worldly wisdom. For instance, it’s generally wise to seem unaware when people try to share information with you; when they ask, “Haven't you heard about this?” respond with “No,” and let them continue, even if you already know. Some enjoy sharing it because they think they do it well; others take pride in being the keen discoverers; many are vain about proving they have, mistakenly, been trusted. All these will feel disappointed and, thus, unhappy if you reply “Yes.” Always act ignorant (except with your closest friends) about all matters of personal gossip and slander, even if you've heard it a thousand times; the involved parties often view the listener as nearly as guilty as the one who spreads the rumor. When such topics arise, be skeptical, even if you genuinely believe; always take a mitigating stance. But this facade of ignorance should be paired with thorough and wide-ranging private knowledge; indeed, it's the best way to acquire it, as most people take pleasure in showing superiority, even over trivial matters, so they'll reveal things they shouldn't just to prove they know something you don't. Additionally, such feigned ignorance will make you appear uninterested and thus unthreatening. However, seek out facts, and make an effort to stay informed about everything happening; but be judicious in your inquiries, and avoid direct questions, which can put people on guard and quickly wear thin. Instead, sometimes assume you know what you want to know; this way, someone will kindly and automatically correct you; at other times, say you've heard something, and occasionally imply you know more than you do to elicit the information you need; but minimize direct questioning as much as possible. All these essential skills in the world demand constant attention, presence of mind, and composure. Achilles, though invulnerable, never went to battle without being fully armored. Courts will be the arenas of your conflicts, where you should always be completely equipped, even further fortified. The slightest inattention or distraction could lead to disaster. I want to see you as what the pedants call 'omnis homo,' and what Pope accurately calls ALL-ACCOMPLISHED: you have the means at your disposal; add the will, and you can make it happen. The common saying about SPOILING A SHIP FOR A HALFPENNY WORTH OF TAR applies here; prevent that issue by having the tar on hand: it's much easier to source compared to what you've already acquired.
The fine Mrs. Pitt, who it seems saw you often at Paris, speaking of you the other day, said, in French, for she speaks little English, . . . whether it is that you did not pay the homage due to her beauty, or that it did not strike you as it does others, I cannot determine; but I hope she had some other reason than truth for saying it. I will suppose that you did not care a pin for her; but, however, she surely deserved a degree of propitiatory adoration from you, which I am afraid you neglected. Had I been in your case, I should have endeavored, at least, to have supplanted Mr. Mackay in his office of nocturnal reader to her. I played at cards, two days ago, with your friend Mrs. Fitzgerald, and her most sublime mother, Mrs. Seagrave; they both inquired after you; and Mrs. Fitzgerald said, she hoped you went on with your dancing; I said, Yes, and that you assured me, you had made such considerable improvements in it, that you had now learned to stand still, and even upright. Your ‘virtuosa’, la Signora Vestri, sung here the other day, with great applause: I presume you are INTIMATELY acquainted with her merit. Good night to you, whoever you pass it with.
The lovely Mrs. Pitt, who apparently saw you often in Paris, mentioned you the other day and said in French, as she speaks little English, that she wasn’t sure whether you didn’t appreciate her beauty or if it didn’t impress you like it does others. I can’t really say, but I hope she had a reason that wasn’t just honest for saying that. I’ll assume you didn’t care much for her; still, she certainly deserved some level of admiration from you, which I fear you overlooked. If I were in your position, I would have at least tried to take Mr. Mackay’s place as her evening reader. A couple of days ago, I played cards with your friend Mrs. Fitzgerald and her wonderful mother, Mrs. Seagrave; they both asked about you. Mrs. Fitzgerald mentioned she hoped you were still dancing, and I said yes, and that you assured me you had made such great progress that you had now learned to stand still, and even upright. Your talented friend, la Signora Vestri, sang here the other day to great acclaim: I assume you are well aware of her talent. Good night to you, no matter who you spend it with.
I have this moment received a packet, sealed with your seal, though not directed by your hand, for Lady Hervey. No letter from you! Are you not well?
I just received a package sealed with your seal, but it wasn't addressed by you, rather it was for Lady Hervey. No letter from you! Are you okay?
LETTER CLXXXVII
LONDON, May 27, O. S. 1753.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this day been tired, jaded, nay, tormented, by the company of a most worthy, sensible, and learned man, a near relation of mine, who dined and passed the evening with me. This seems a paradox, but is a plain truth; he has no knowledge of the world, no manners, no address; far from talking without book, as is commonly said of people who talk sillily, he only talks by book; which in general conversation is ten times worse. He has formed in his own closet from books, certain systems of everything, argues tenaciously upon those principles, and is both surprised and angry at whatever deviates from them. His theories are good, but, unfortunately, are all impracticable. Why? because he has only read and not conversed. He is acquainted with books, and an absolute stranger to men. Laboring with his matter, he is delivered of it with pangs; he hesitates, stops in his utterance, and always expresses himself inelegantly. His actions are all ungraceful; so that, with all his merit and knowledge, I would rather converse six hours with the most frivolous tittle-tattle woman who knew something of the world, than with him. The preposterous notions of a systematical man who does not know the world, tire the patience of a man who does. It would be endless to correct his mistakes, nor would he take it kindly: for he has considered everything deliberately, and is very sure that he is in the right. Impropriety is a characteristic, and a never-failing one, of these people. Regardless, because ignorant, of customs and manners, they violate them every moment. They often shock, though they never mean to offend: never attending either to the general character, or the particular distinguishing circumstances of the people to whom, or before whom they talk; whereas the knowledge of the world teaches one, that the very same things which are exceedingly right and proper in one company, time and place, are exceedingly absurd in others. In short, a man who has great knowledge, from experience and observation, of the characters, customs, and manners of mankind, is a being as different from, and as superior to, a man of mere book and systematical knowledge, as a well-managed horse is to an ass. Study, therefore, cultivate, and frequent men and women; not only in their outward, and consequently, guarded, but in their interior, domestic, and consequently less disguised, characters and manners. Take your notions of things, as by observation and experience you find they really are, and not as you read that they are or should be; for they never are quite what they should be. For this purpose do not content yourself with general and common acquaintance; but wherever you can, establish yourself, with a kind of domestic familiarity, in good houses. For instance, go again to Orli, for two or three days, and so at two or three ‘reprises’. Go and stay two or three days at a time at Versailles, and improve and extend the acquaintance you have there. Be at home at St. Cloud; and, whenever any private person of fashion invites you to, pass a few days at his country-house, accept of the invitation. This will necessarily give you a versatility of mind, and a facility to adopt various manners and customs; for everybody desires to please those in whose house they are; and people are only to be pleased in their own way. Nothing is more engaging than a cheerful and easy conformity to people’s particular manners, habits, and even weaknesses; nothing (to use a vulgar expression) should come amiss to a young fellow. He should be, for good purposes, what Alcibiades was commonly for bad ones, a Proteus, assuming with ease, and wearing with cheerfulness, any shape. Heat, cold, luxury, abstinence, gravity, gayety, ceremony, easiness, learning, trifling, business, and pleasure, are modes which he should be able to take, lay aside, or change occasionally, with as much ease as he would take or lay aside his hat. All this is only to be acquired by use and knowledge of the world, by keeping a great deal of company, analyzing every character, and insinuating yourself into the familiarity of various acquaintance. A right, a generous ambition to make a figure in the world, necessarily gives the desire of pleasing; the desire of pleasing points out, to a great degree, the means of doing it; and the art of pleasing is, in truth, the art of rising, of distinguishing one’s self, of making a figure and a fortune in the world. But without pleasing, without the graces, as I have told you a thousand times, ‘ogni fatica e vana’. You are now but nineteen, an age at which most of your countrymen are illiberally getting drunk in port, at the university. You have greatly got the start of them in learning; and if you can equally get the start of them in the knowledge and manners of the world, you may be very sure of outrunning them in court and parliament, as you set out much earlier than they. They generally begin but to see the world at one-and-twenty; you will by that age have seen all Europe. They set out upon their travels unlicked cubs: and in their travels they only lick one another, for they seldom go into any other company. They know nothing but the English world, and the worst part of that too, and generally very little of any but the English language; and they come home, at three or four-and-twenty, refined and polished (as is said in one of Congreve’s plays) like Dutch skippers from a whale-fishing. The care which has been taken of you, and (to do you justice) the care that you have taken of yourself, has left you, at the age of nineteen only, nothing to acquire but the knowledge of the world, manners, address, and those exterior accomplishments. But they are great and necessary acquisitions, to those who have sense enough to know their true value; and your getting them before you are one-and-twenty, and before you enter upon the active and shining scene of life, will give you such an advantage over all your contemporaries, that they cannot overtake you: they must be distanced. You may probably be placed about a young prince, who will probably be a young king. There all the various arts of pleasing, the engaging address, the versatility of manners, the brillant, the graces, will outweigh, and yet outrun all solid knowledge and unpolished merit. Oil yourself, therefore, and be both supple and shining, for that race, if you would be first, or early at the goal. Ladies will most probably too have something to say there; and those who are best with them will probably be best SOMEWHERE ELSE. Labor this great point, my dear child, indefatigably; attend to the very smallest parts, the minutest graces, the most trifling circumstances, that can possibly concur in forming the shining character of a complete gentleman, ‘un galant homme, un homme de cour’, a man of business and pleasure; ‘estime des hommes, recherche des femmes, aime de tout le monde’. In this view, observe the shining part of every man of fashion, who is liked and esteemed; attend to, and imitate that particular accomplishment for which you hear him chiefly celebrated and distinguished: then collect those various parts, and make yourself a mosiac of the whole. No one body possesses everything, and almost everybody possesses some one thing worthy of imitation: only choose your models well; and in order to do so, choose by your ear more than by your eye. The best model is always that which is most universally allowed to be the best, though in strictness it may possibly not be so. We must take most things as they are, we cannot make them what we would, nor often what they should be; and where moral duties are not concerned, it is more prudent to follow than to attempt to lead. Adieu.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Today, I've felt tired, exhausted, and even tormented by the company of a very worthy, sensible, and knowledgeable man, who is a close relative of mine and spent the day with me. This might seem like a contradiction, but it’s true; he has no real understanding of the world, no manners, and no charm. Rather than talking spontaneously, like people often do when they speak foolishly, he only speaks from his books, which is much worse in everyday conversation. He has created rigid theories based on what he has read in his own little world, argues stubbornly from those principles, and is both surprised and angry when anyone deviates from them. His ideas are good, but unfortunately, they are all impractical. Why? Because he has read but not interacted with people. Struggling with his ideas, he tries to express them but stumbles, hesitates, and always comes across awkwardly. His actions lack grace; so despite his merits and knowledge, I would prefer to spend six hours chatting with the most trivial gossiping woman who has some experience of the world rather than with him. The absurd ideas of someone who doesn't understand real life can wear down the patience of someone who does. It would take forever to correct his errors, and he wouldn't take it well, as he has thought everything through and is quite sure he’s right. One characteristic of these people is their lack of awareness regarding manners, causing them to offend others without meaning to. They often shock others without intent, failing to consider the general attitude or specific details about the people they are speaking to; whereas understanding the world teaches one that the same actions that are perfectly acceptable in one context can be completely inappropriate in another. In short, a person who has real knowledge from experience about human nature, customs, and manners is vastly different from, and superior to, someone who only has book knowledge and theories. So, it’s essential to engage with men and women, not just in their outward and often guarded personas but in their true, everyday characteristics and behaviors. Form your views based on what you observe and experience, not just what you read about how things should be, because reality often diverges from expectations. To this end, don’t settle for just casual acquaintances; where possible, create a close familiarity in good homes. For instance, visit Orli for a few days and do that a couple more times. Stay for a few days at Versailles and deepen the connections you have there. Make yourself at home in St. Cloud, and whenever a fashionable person invites you to their country house, accept the invitation. This will naturally develop your adaptability and skill in embracing various manners and customs; everyone wants to please their hosts, and people are happiest when you engage with them in their own way. Nothing is more appealing than a cheerful and easygoing attitude toward people's unique habits, traits, and even flaws; nothing (to use a common saying) should seem unusual to a young man. He should, for good purposes, be as flexible as Alcibiades was often for bad ones, easily adopting and joyfully wearing any role. Whether it's heat, cold, luxury, restraint, seriousness, lightheartedness, formality, ease, learning, playfulness, work, or entertainment, he should transition between these modes effortlessly, as easily as he would put on or take off his hat. All of this comes from using and understanding the world, by spending time with various people, analyzing their characters, and becoming familiar with different acquaintances. A genuine ambition to make a mark in the world naturally leads to a desire to please; the urge to please largely indicates how to achieve it, and the art of pleasing is truly the art of rising, standing out, and making a name for oneself in the world. But without charm and grace, as I've told you countless times, ‘ogni fatica e vana’. You’re only nineteen, an age at which most of your peers are irresponsibly getting drunk on port at university. You've gotten a significant head start in learning, and if you can also outpace them in worldly knowledge and manners, you can be sure of outshining them in the court and parliament, since you started much earlier than they did. They typically begin to see the world at twenty-one; by that age, you will have traveled all over Europe. They set off on their travels as unrefined rookies, and in their travels, they generally only socialize with each other, rarely engaging with anyone else. They know very little beyond the English world—and even that very often lacks sophistication—and they return home at twenty-three or twenty-four, refined and polished (as one of Congreve’s plays puts it) like Dutch skippers returning from a whale hunt. The efforts that have been made for you, along with the efforts you've made for yourself, have left you, at just nineteen, with little left to gain except knowledge of the world, manners, charm, and those outward refinements. But those are significant and necessary gains for those who understand their true value; acquiring them before you turn twenty-one, and before you embark on the active and prominent stage of life, will give you such an advantage over your peers that they will struggle to catch up. You may likely find yourself in the service of a young prince, who might soon be a king. In that setting, all the various arts of charm, engaging presence, adaptability, charisma, and graces will outweigh and surpass all solid knowledge and unrefined merit. So, polish yourself, and be both flexible and radiant for that race if you want to be first or get to the finish line early. Ladies will likely have some influence there too, and those who are favored by them will likely be favored elsewhere as well. Focus tirelessly on this important point, my dear child; pay attention to even the smallest details, the slightest graces, and the most trivial aspects that can help shape the brilliant character of a true gentleman, ‘un galant homme, un homme de cour’, a person of business and pleasure; ‘estime des hommes, recherche des femmes, aime de tout le monde’. With this goal in mind, take note of the admirable qualities of every fashionable person who is well-liked and respected; pay attention to and imitate the specific trait that makes them stand out and become celebrated. Then gather these different elements and create a rich mosaic of yourself. No one person has everything, but almost everyone possesses something worth imitating; just be sure to choose your role models wisely. When choosing, rely more on your ear than your eye. The best model is usually the one most universally acknowledged as the best, even if, strictly speaking, it might not be so. We have to take things as they are; we can't always reshape them to be what we want or what they ought to be; and where moral duties aren’t in play, it’s often wiser to follow than lead. Farewell.
LETTER CLXXXVIII
BATH, October 3, 1753
MY DEAR FRIEND: You have set out well at The Hague; you are in love with Madame Munter, which I am very glad of: you are in the fine company there, and I hope one of it: for it is not enough, at your age, to be merely in good company; but you should, by your address and attentions, make that good company think you one of them. There is a tribute due to beauty, even independently of further views; which tribute I hope you paid with alacrity to Madame Munter and Madame Degenfeldt: depend upon it, they expected it, and were offended in proportion as that tribute seemed either unwillingly or scantily paid. I believe my friend Kreuningen admits nobody now to his table, for fear of their communicating the plague to him, or at least the bite of a mad dog. Pray profit of the entrees libres that the French Ambassador has given you; frequent him, and SPEAK to him. I think you will not do amiss to call upon Mr. Burrish, at Aix-la-Chapelle, since it is so little out of your way; and you will do still better, if you would, which I know you will not, drink those waters for five or six days only, to scour your stomach and bowels a little; I am sure it would do you a great deal of good Mr. Burrish can, doubtless, give you the best letters to Munich; and he will naturally give you some to Comte Preysing, or Comte Sinsheim, and such sort of grave people; but I could wish that you would ask him for some to young fellows of pleasure, or fashionable coquettes, that, you may be ‘dans l’honnete debauche de Munich’. A propos of your future motions; I leave you in a great measure the master of them, so shall only suggest my thoughts to you upon that subject.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You’ve made a good start at The Hague; you’re in love with Madame Munter, which makes me very happy. You’re in great company there, and I hope to be part of it: at your age, it’s not enough just to be around good people; you should, through your charm and attention, make them see you as one of their own. There’s a certain respect owed to beauty, even without any ulterior motives; I hope you’ve shown that respect willingly to Madame Munter and Madame Degenfeldt: rest assured, they expected it, and they would be offended proportionally if that respect seemed either reluctant or lacking. I believe my friend Kreuningen no longer invites anyone to his table, fearing they might bring him the plague or, at the very least, a rabid bite. Please take advantage of the free entries that the French Ambassador has provided; visit him often and TALK to him. I think it would be a good idea to stop by and see Mr. Burrish in Aix-la-Chapelle since it’s not too far out of your way; you’d be even better off if, though I know you won’t, you drank those waters for just five or six days to clear out your stomach and intestines a bit; I’m sure it would benefit you greatly. Mr. Burrish can surely provide you with the best introductions to Munich, and he’ll naturally have some for Comte Preysing or Comte Sinsheim, among other serious folks; however, I wish you would ask him for some introductions to young, fun people or fashionable acquaintances so that you can be ‘dans l’honnete debauche de Munich.’ Regarding your future plans, I leave much of that up to you, so I’ll just share my thoughts on the matter.
You have three electoral courts in view, Bonn, Munich, and Manheim. I would advise you to see two of them rather cursorily, and fix your tabernacle at the third, whichever that may be, for a considerable time. For instance, should you choose (as I fancy you will), to make Manheim the place of your residence, stay only ten or twelve days at Bonn, and as long at Munich, and then go and fix at Manheim; and so, vice versa, if you should like Bonn or Munich better than you think you would Manheim, make that the place of your residence, and only visit the other two. It is certain that no man can be much pleased himself, or please others much, in any place where he is only a bird of passage for eight or ten days; neither party thinking it worth while to make an acquaintance, still less to form any connection, for so short a time; but when months are the case, a man may domesticate himself pretty well, and very soon not be looked upon as a stranger. This is the real utility of traveling, when, by contracting a familiarity at any place, you get into the inside of it, and see it in its undress. That is the only way of knowing the customs, the manners, and all the little characteristical peculiarities that distinguish one place from another; but then this familiarity is not to be brought about by cold, formal visits of half an hour: no; you must show a willingness, a desire, an impatience of forming connections, ‘il faut s’y preter, et y mettre du liant, du desir de plaire. Whatever you do approve, you must be lavish in your praises of; and you must learn to commend what you do not approve of, if it is approved of there. You are not much given to praise, I know; but it is because you do not yet know how extremely people are engaged by a seeming sanction to their own opinions, prejudices, and weaknesses, even in the merest trifles. Our self-love is mortified when we think our opinions, and even our tastes, customs, and dresses, either arraigned or condemned; as on the contrary, it is tickled and flattered by approbation. I will give you a remarkable instance of this kind. The famous Earl of Shaftesbury, in the flagitious reign of Charles the Second, while he was Chancellor, had a mind to be a favorite, as well as a minister of the King; in order, therefore, to please his Majesty, whose prevailing passion was women, my Lord kept a w——e, whom he had no occasion for, and made no manner of use of. The King soon heard of it, and asked him if it was true; he owned it was; but that, though he kept that one woman, he had several others besides, for he loved variety. A few days afterward, the King, at his public levee, saw Lord Shaftesbury at some distance, and said in the circle, “One would not think that that little, weak man is the greatest whore-master in England; but I can assure you that he is.” Upon Lord Shaftesbury’s coming into the circle, there was a general smile; the King said, “This is concerning you, my Lord.”—“Me, sir?” answered the Chancellor, with some surprise. “Yes, you,” answered the King; “for I had just said that you were the greatest whore-master in England! Is it not true?”—“Of a SUBJECT, Sir,” replied Lord Shaftesbury, “perhaps I am.” It is the same in everything; we think a difference of opinion, of conduct, of manners, a tacit reproach, at least, upon our own; we must therefore use ourselves to a ready conformity to whatever is neither criminal nor dishonorable. Whoever differs from any general custom, is supposed both to think, and proclaim himself wiser than the rest of the world: which the rest of the world cannot bear, especially in a young man. A young fellow is always forgiven and often applauded, when he carries a fashion to an excess; but never if he stops short of it. The first is ascribed to youth and fire; but the latter is imputed to an affectation of singularity or superiority. At your age, one is allowed to ‘outrer’ fashion, dress, vivacity, gallantry, etc., but by no means to be behindhand in any one of them. And one may apply to youth in this case, ‘Si non errasset, fecerat ille minus’. Adieu.
You have three electoral courts to consider: Bonn, Munich, and Mannheim. I recommend that you check out two of them quickly and settle down in the third one, whichever that may be, for an extended period. For example, if you decide (as I suspect you will) to make Mannheim your home, spend only ten or twelve days in Bonn and a similar amount of time in Munich before you settle in Mannheim. Conversely, if you prefer either Bonn or Munich over Mannheim, make that your residence and just visit the other two. It's clear that no one can truly feel happy or make others happy in a place where they’re just passing through for eight or ten days; no one thinks it’s worth getting to know someone, let alone forming any connections, for such a short time. However, when you stay for months, you can really settle in, and before long, you won’t be seen as a stranger. This is the true benefit of traveling: by building familiarity in a place, you gain insight into it and see it without pretense. That’s the only way to learn about the customs, behaviors, and unique quirks that separate one place from another; but this familiarity won't come from cold, formal visits of half an hour. No, you need to show eagerness, enthusiasm, and a strong desire to connect—‘il faut s’y preter, et y mettre du liant, du desir de plaire.’ Whatever you genuinely like, be generous in your praise; and you also need to learn how to compliment the things you don’t like if they’re accepted by others there. I know you’re not one to give compliments easily, but it’s because you don’t yet realize how much people are drawn to the approval of their opinions, biases, and even minor flaws. Our self-esteem takes a hit when we think our ideas, tastes, customs, and fashions are criticized or rejected; conversely, it’s boosted by approval. Let me give you an interesting example of this. The famous Earl of Shaftesbury, during the notorious reign of Charles the Second, wanted to be both a favorite and a minister. To please the King, who had a serious weakness for women, Lord Shaftesbury kept a mistress, although he had no real need for her and didn’t even use her. The King soon found out and asked him if it was true; he admitted it, adding that although he had that one woman, he had several others because he enjoyed variety. A few days later, at a public gathering, the King saw Lord Shaftesbury from a distance and remarked to the group, “You wouldn’t think that little, weak man is the biggest womanizer in England, but I assure you, he is.” When Lord Shaftesbury joined the group, everyone smiled; the King said, “This is about you, my Lord.” “Me, sir?” replied the Chancellor, surprised. “Yes, you,” the King said; “I just said you were the biggest womanizer in England! Is that true?” “Of a SUBJECT, sir,” Lord Shaftesbury replied, “perhaps I am.” It’s the same in everything; any difference in opinion, behavior, or manners seems like an implicit criticism of our own. Therefore, we need to get used to adjusting ourselves to whatever isn’t criminal or dishonorable. Anyone who deviates from the norm is assumed to think they’re wiser than everyone else, which the rest of society cannot tolerate, especially from a young person. A young man can be forgiven and often praised for taking fashion too far, but never for holding back. The former is attributed to youth and passion, while the latter is seen as an affectation of uniqueness or superiority. At your age, it’s acceptable to go all out with fashion, style, enthusiasm, charm, etc., but you should never fall short in any of these areas. The saying ‘Si non errasset, fecerat ille minus’ applies here as well. Adieu.
LETTER CLXXXIX
BATH, October 19, 1753
MY DEAR FRIEND: Of all the various ingredients that compose the useful and necessary art of pleasing, no one is so effectual and engaging as that gentleness, that ‘douceur’ of countenance and manner, to which you are no stranger, though (God knows why) a sworn enemy. Other people take great pains to conceal or disguise their natural imperfections; some by the make of their clothes and other arts, endeavor to conceal the defects of their shape; women, who unfortunately have natural bad complexions, lay on good ones; and both men and women upon whom unkind nature has inflicted a surliness and ferocity of countenance, do at least all they can, though often without success, to soften and mitigate it; they affect ‘douceur’, and aim at smiles, though often in the attempt, like the Devil in Milton, they GRIN HORRIBLY A GHASTLY SMILE. But you are the only person I ever knew in the whole course of my life, who not only disdain, but absolutely reject and disguise a great advantage that nature has kindly granted. You easily guess I mean COUNTENANCE; for she has given you a very pleasing one; but you beg to be excused, you will not accept it; but on the contrary, take singular pains to put on the most ‘funeste’, forbidding, and unpleasing one that can possibly be imagined. This one would think impossible; but you know it to be true. If you imagine that it gives you a manly, thoughtful, and decisive air, as some, though very few of your countrymen do, you are most exceedingly mistaken; for it is at best the air of a German corporal, part of whose exercise is to look fierce, and to ‘blasemeer-op’. You will say, perhaps, What, am I always to be studying my countenance, in order to wear this ‘douceur’? I answer, No; do it but for a fortnight, and you never will have occasion to think of it more. Take but half the pains to recover the countenance that nature gave you, that you must have taken to disguise and deform it as you have, and the business will be done. Accustom your eyes to a certain softness, of which they are very capable, and your face to smiles, which become it more than most faces I know. Give all your motions, too, an air of ‘douceur’, which is directly the reverse of their present celerity and rapidity. I wish you would adopt a little of ‘l’air du Couvent’ (you very well know what I mean) to a certain degree; it has something extremely engaging; there is a mixture of benevolence, affection, and unction in it; it is frequently really sincere, but is almost always thought so, and consequently pleasing. Will you call this trouble? It will not be half an hour’s trouble to you in a week’s time. But suppose it be, pray tell me, why did you give yourself the trouble of learning to dance so well as you do? It is neither a religious, moral, or civil duty. You must own, that you did it then singly to please, and you were, in the right on’t. Why do you wear fine clothes, and curl your hair? Both are troublesome; lank locks, and plain flimsy rags are much easier. This then you also do in order to please, and you do very right. But then, for God’s sake, reason and act consequentially; and endeavor to please in other things too, still more essential; and without which the trouble you have taken in those is wholly thrown away. You show your dancing, perhaps six times a year, at most; but you show your countenance and your common motions every day, and all day. Which then, I appeal to yourself, ought you to think of the most, and care to render easy, graceful, and engaging? Douceur of countenance and gesture can alone make them so. You are by no means ill-natured; and would you then most unjustly be reckoned so? Yet your common countenance intimates, and would make anybody who did not know you, believe it. ‘A propos’ of this, I must tell you what was said the other day to a fine lady whom you know, who is very good-natured in truth, but whose common countenance implies ill-nature, even to brutality. It was Miss H——n, Lady M—y’s niece, whom you have seen both at Blackheath and at Lady Hervey’s. Lady M—y was saying to me that you had a very engaging countenance when you had a mind to it, but that you had not always that mind; upon which Miss H——n said, that she liked your countenance best, when it was as glum as her own. Why then, replied Lady M—y, you two should marry; for while you both wear your worst countenances, nobody else will venture upon either of you; and they call her now Mrs. Stanhope. To complete this ‘douceur’ of countenance and motions, which I so earnestly recommend to you, you should carry it also to your expressions and manner of thinking, ‘mettez y toujours de l’affectueux de l’onction’; take the gentle, the favorable, the indulgent side of most questions. I own that the manly and sublime John Trott, your countryman, seldom does; but, to show his spirit and decision, takes the rough and harsh side, which he generally adorns with an oath, to seem more formidable. This he only thinks fine; for to do John justice, he is commonly as good-natured as anybody. These are among the many little things which you have not, and I have, lived long enough in the world to know of what infinite consequence they are in the course of life. Reason then, I repeat it again, within yourself, CONSEQUENTIALLY; and let not the pains you have taken, and still take, to please in some things be a ‘pure perte’, by your negligence of, and inattention to others of much less trouble, and much more consequence.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Among all the various elements that contribute to the valuable and necessary skill of being likable, nothing is as effective and appealing as gentleness, that softness of expression and demeanor, which you’re no stranger to, even though (God knows why) you seem to be its sworn enemy. Others work hard to hide or disguise their natural flaws; some use clothes and other tricks to cover up their body shape; women who unfortunately have poor complexions apply makeup to create better ones; and both men and women bearing unkindness from nature that leaves them with a harsh and fierce expression do everything they can, often without success, to soften and ease it; they aim for gentleness and attempts at smiles, though often in the process, like the Devil in Milton, they END UP WITH A TERRIFYING GRIN. But you are the only person I’ve ever known in my life who not only disdains but actively rejects and disguises a great advantage that nature has generously given you. You probably guess I mean your FACE; for it is quite pleasing, yet you refuse to embrace it and, instead, go to great lengths to present the most dreadful, forbidding, and unappealing expression imaginable. One would think this impossible, but you know it to be true. If you think this gives you a manly, thoughtful, and determined look, as some, though very few of your countrymen do, you are very mistaken; for it is at best the look of a German corporal, whose job it is to appear fierce. You might say, am I supposed to constantly worry about my expression to project this gentleness? I say, no; just do it for two weeks, and you’ll never have to think about it again. Put in just half the effort to recover the expression that nature gave you, that you must have put in to hide and distort it, and it will be done. Train your eyes to adopt a certain softness, of which they are fully capable, and your face to smiles, which suit it better than most faces I know. Give your movements a sense of gentleness, which is the absolute opposite of their current speed and abruptness. I wish you would embrace a bit of that convent-like demeanor (you know what I mean) to a certain extent; it has something very charming about it; there’s a blend of kindness, warmth, and sincerity in it; it’s often genuinely sincere, but almost always perceived as such, making it pleasing. Will you call this a hassle? It won’t take you half an hour a week. But suppose it is, tell me, why did you go through the effort to learn to dance so well? It’s neither a religious, moral, nor civil obligation. You have to admit you did it simply to please, and you were right to do so. Why do you wear nice clothes and style your hair? Both are bothersome; messy hair and plain rags are much easier. You also do this to please, and that’s perfectly reasonable. So, for goodness' sake, think and act in a way that's consistent; try to please in other, more important areas, without which all the effort you put into those things is completely wasted. You show off your dancing maybe six times a year at most; but you show your face and everyday movements every single day. So I ask you, which should you focus on the most and care to make easy, graceful, and appealing? Gentleness of expression and gesture is the only way to achieve this. You’re definitely not ill-natured; so why would you want to be unfairly seen that way? Yet your usual expression suggests otherwise and would make anyone who doesn’t know you believe so. Speaking of this, I have to tell you what someone said the other day to a lovely lady you know, who is genuinely kind but has a common expression that suggests ill-nature to the point of brutality. It was Miss H——n, Lady M—y’s niece, whom you’ve seen both at Blackheath and at Lady Hervey's. Lady M—y told me that you have a very charming expression when you want to, but that you don't always want to; to which Miss H——n replied that she preferred your expression when it was as sour as her own. Lady M—y then said, you two should marry, because while you both wear your worst expressions, no one else will dare approach either of you; and now they call her Mrs. Stanhope. To enhance this gentleness of expression and gestures that I passionately suggest to you, you should also apply it to your thoughts and how you express yourself, always bring a touch of kindness and warmth into most discussions. I admit that the manly and noble John Trott, your fellow countryman, doesn’t often do this; but to show his strength and decisiveness, he takes the rough and harsh side, which he frequently embellishes with an oath to appear more intimidating. He thinks this is impressive; to be fair, he’s generally as good-natured as anyone. These are just a few of the many small things that you have yet to learn, and I’ve lived long enough to understand how immensely important they are in the course of life. So, I repeat, think this through consistently; and don’t let the efforts you’ve put in, and still put in, to please in some areas go to waste by neglecting and being inattentive to others that require far less effort but are much more significant.
I have been of late much engaged, or rather bewildered, in Oriental history, particularly that of the Jews, since the destruction of their temple, and their dispersion by Titus; but the confusion and uncertainty of the whole, and the monstrous extravagances and falsehoods of the greatest part of it, disgusted me extremely. Their Talmud, their Mischna, their Targums, and other traditions and writings of their Rabbins and Doctors, who were most of them Cabalists, are really more extravagant and absurd, if possible, than all that you have read in Comte de Gabalis; and indeed most of his stuff is taken from them. Take this sample of their nonsense, which is transmitted in the writings of one of their most considerable Rabbins: “One Abas Saul, a man of ten feet high, was digging a grave, and happened to find the eye of Goliah, in which he thought proper to bury himself, and so he did, all but his head, which the Giant’s eye was unfortunately not quite deep enough to receive.” This, I assure you, is the most modest lie of ten thousand. I have also read the Turkish history which, excepting the religious part, is not fabulous, though very possibly not true. For the Turks, having no notion of letters and being, even by their religion, forbid the use of them, except for reading and transcribing the Koran, they have no historians of their own, nor any authentic records nor memorials for other historians to work upon; so that what histories we have of that country are written by foreigners; as Platina, Sir Paul Rycaut, Prince Cantimer, etc., or else snatches only of particular and short periods, by some who happened to reside there at those times; such as Busbequius, whom I have just finished. I like him, as far as he goes, much the best of any of them: but then his account is, properly, only an account of his own Embassy, from the Emperor Charles the Fifth to Solyman the Magnificent. However, there he gives, episodically, the best account I know of the customs and manners of the Turks, and of the nature of that government, which is a most extraordinary one. For, despotic as it always seems, and sometimes is, it is in truth a military republic, and the real power resides in the Janissaries; who sometimes order their Sultan to strangle his Vizir, and sometimes the Vizir to depose or strangle his Sultan, according as they happen to be angry at the one or the other. I own I am glad that the capital strangler should, in his turn, be STRANGLE-ABLE, and now and then strangled; for I know of no brute so fierce, nor no criminal so guilty, as the creature called a Sovereign, whether King, Sultan, or Sophy, who thinks himself, either by divine or human right, vested with an absolute power of destroying his fellow-creatures; or who, without inquiring into his right, lawlessly exerts that power. The most excusable of all those human monsters are the Turks, whose religion teaches them inevitable fatalism. A propos of the Turks, my Loyola, I pretend, is superior to your Sultan. Perhaps you think this impossible, and wonder who this Loyola is. Know then, that I have had a Barbet brought me from France, so exactly like the Sultan that he has been mistaken for him several times; only his snout is shorter, and his ears longer than the Sultan’s. He has also the acquired knowledge of the Sultan; and I am apt to think that he studied under the same master at Paris. His habit and his white band show him to be an ecclesiastic; and his begging, which he does very earnestly, proves him to be of a mendicant order; which, added to his flattery and insinuation, make him supposed to be a Jesuit, and have acquired him the name of Loyola. I must not omit too, that when he breaks wind he smells exactly like the Sultan.
I've been really caught up, or rather confused, with Eastern history lately, especially that of the Jews since their temple was destroyed and they were scattered by Titus. However, the chaos and uncertainty of it all, along with the ridiculous exaggerations and lies in most of it, have really put me off. Their Talmud, Mischna, Targums, and other traditions and writings from their Rabbis and Doctors—most of whom were Cabalists—are honestly even more absurd than what you’ve read in Comte de Gabalis; in fact, a lot of his material comes from them. Here’s a sample of their nonsense, recorded by one of their prominent Rabbis: “A man named Abas Saul, who was ten feet tall, was digging a grave and found Goliath's eye, which he thought would be a good idea to bury himself in, and he did, except for his head, because the giant's eye wasn’t deep enough.” I assure you, that’s one of the tamest lies out of thousands. I've also looked into Turkish history, which, aside from the religious parts, isn’t made up, although it might not be accurate. The Turks don’t really understand writing and are even forbidden by their religion from using letters, except to read or copy the Koran. So they have no historians or authentic records for other historians to rely on; therefore, the histories we have are written by foreigners like Platina, Sir Paul Rycaut, Prince Cantimer, etc., or bits and pieces from temporary residents like Busbequius, whom I just finished reading. I like him best so far, but his account is mainly just about his own embassy from Emperor Charles the Fifth to Suleiman the Magnificent. Still, he gives, in an episodic manner, the best description I know of Turkish customs, manners, and government, which is really quite extraordinary. Though it seems despotic—and sometimes it really is—it’s actually a military republic, and the real power lies with the Janissaries. They can order their Sultan to have his Vizier executed, or vice versa, depending on who they’re angry with at the moment. I honestly feel relieved that the capital executioner can, in turn, be executed himself now and then; because I know no creature so fierce or criminal as a Sovereign, whether King, Sultan, or Shah, who believes they have an absolute right to destroy others, either by divine or human authority, or who uses that power recklessly without questioning their right. The Turks, whose religion teaches them necessary fatalism, are among the most excusable of such human monsters. Speaking of the Turks, my Loyola is better than your Sultan. You might think this is impossible and wonder who this Loyola is. Well, I had a Barbet brought to me from France that looks just like the Sultan; he’s been mistaken for him several times, though his snout is shorter, and his ears are longer. He also possesses the Sultan's knowledge. I suspect he studied under the same teacher in Paris. His attire and white band indicate he’s an ecclesiastic, and his earnest begging suggests he’s from a mendicant order; combined with his flattery, people have assumed he’s a Jesuit and named him Loyola. I can’t forget to mention that when he passes gas, he smells just like the Sultan.
I do not yet hear one jot the better for all my bathings and pumpings, though I have been here already full half my time; I consequently go very little into company, being very little fit for any. I hope you keep company enough for us both; you will get more by that, than I shall by all my reading. I read simply to amuse myself and fill up my time, of which I have too much; but you have two much better reasons for going into company, pleasure and profit. May you find a great deal of both in a great deal of company! Adieu.
I still don’t feel any better from all my baths and treatments, even though I’ve been here for a good half of my time. Because of that, I rarely go out and socialize, as I’m not really fit for it. I hope you’re keeping up enough social interactions for both of us; you’ll benefit more from that than I will from all my reading. I read just to entertain myself and pass the time, which I have too much of; but you have much better reasons for going out—enjoyment and gain. I hope you find plenty of both in your socializing! Goodbye.
LETTER CXC
LONDON, November 20, 1753
MY DEAR FRIEND: Two mails are now due from Holland, so that I have no letter from you to acknowledge; but that, you know, by long experience, does not hinder my writing to you. I always receive your letters with pleasure; but I mean, and endeavor, that you should receive mine with some profit; preferring always your advantage to my own pleasure.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Two letters are now expected from Holland, so I don’t have any correspondence from you to respond to; but, as you know from experience, that doesn’t stop me from writing to you. I always enjoy receiving your letters; however, I want and strive for you to find some benefit in mine, prioritizing your advantage over my own pleasure.
If you find yourself well settled and naturalized at Manheim, stay there some time, and do not leave a certain for an uncertain good; but if you think you shall be as well, or better established at Munich, go there as soon as you please; and if disappointed, you can always return to Manheim I mentioned, in a former letter, your passing the Carnival at Berlin, which I think may be both useful and pleasing to you; however, do as you will; but let me know what you resolve: That King and that country have, and will have, so great a share in the affairs of Europe, that they are well worth being thoroughly known.
If you feel comfortable and settled in Manheim, stay there for a while, and don’t trade something certain for something uncertain. But if you think you’ll be just as comfortable, or even better, in Munich, go there whenever you like. If things don’t work out, you can always come back to Manheim. I mentioned in a previous letter that spending Carnival in Berlin might be both enjoyable and beneficial for you; do as you see fit, but let me know what you decide. That king and that country have, and will continue to have, such a significant influence on European affairs that they are definitely worth getting to know well.
Whether, where you are now, or ever may be hereafter, you speak French, German, or English most, I earnestly recommend to you a particular attention to the propriety and elegance of your style; employ the best words you can find in the language, avoid cacophony, and make your periods as harmonious as you can. I need not, I am sure, tell you what you must often have felt, how much the elegance of diction adorns the best thoughts, and palliates the worst. In the House of Commons it is almost everything; and, indeed, in every assembly, whether public or private. Words, which are the dress of thoughts, deserve surely more care than clothes, which are only the dress of the person, and which, however, ought to have their share of attention. If you attend to your style in any one language, it will give you a habit of attending to it in every other; and if once you speak either French or German very elegantly, you will afterward speak much the better English for it. I repeat it to you again, for at least the thousandth time, exert your whole attention now in acquiring the ornamental parts of character. People know very little of the world, and talk nonsense, when they talk of plainness and solidity unadorned: they will do in nothing; mankind has been long out of a state of nature, and the golden age of native simplicity will never return. Whether for the better or the worse, no matter; but we are refined; and plain manners, plain dress, and plain diction, would as little do in life, as acorns, herbage, and the water of the neighboring spring, would do at table. Some people are just come, who interrupt me in the middle of my sermon; so good-night.
Whether you are speaking French, German, or English now or in the future, I strongly urge you to pay special attention to the propriety and elegance of your style. Use the best words available in the language, avoid harsh sounds, and make your sentences as smooth as possible. I'm sure you already know how much the elegance of language enhances even the best ideas and smooths over the worst ones. In the House of Commons, it's nearly everything; and really, it's essential in any gathering, whether public or private. Words, which dress our thoughts, deserve more care than clothing, which merely dress the person and should also be given some attention. If you focus on your style in any one language, you'll develop a habit of doing so in all others; and once you master speaking either French or German with elegance, you'll find your English improves as well. I can't stress this enough, for at least the thousandth time, put all your effort into acquiring the refined aspects of character. People know very little about the world and spout nonsense when they talk about simplicity and plainness without embellishment: those don’t work in anything. Humanity has long moved past a state of nature, and the golden age of innate simplicity will never return. Whether that's good or bad doesn’t matter; what's true is that we have become refined, and plain manners, plain dress, and plain language would be as inappropriate in life as acorns, grass, and spring water would be on a dining table. Some people have just arrived and are interrupting me in the middle of my talk; so good night.
LETTER CXCI
LONDON, November 26, 1753
DEAR FRIEND: Fine doings at Manheim! If one may give credit to the weekly histories of Monsieur Roderigue, the finest writer among the moderns; not only ‘des chasses brillantes et nombreuses des operas ou les acteurs se surpassent les jours des Saints de L. L. A. A. E. E. serenissimes celebres; en grand gala’; but to crown the whole, Monsieur Zuchmantel is happily arrived, and Monsieur Wartenslebeu hourly expected. I hope that you are ‘pars magna’ of all these delights; though, as Noll Bluff says, in the “Old Bachelor,” THAT RASCALLY GAZETTEER TAKES NO MORE NOTICE OF YOU THAN IF YOU WERE NOT IN THE LAND OF THE LIVING. I should think that he might at least have taken notice that in these rejoicings you appeared with a rejoicing, and not a gloomy countenance; and you distinguished yourself in that numerous and shining company, by your air, dress, address, and attentions. If this was the case, as I will both hope and suppose it was, I will, if you require it, have him written to, to do you justice in his next ‘supplement’. Seriously, I am very glad that you are whirled in that ‘tourbillon’ of pleasures; they smooth, polish, and rub off rough corners: perhaps too, you have some particular COLLISION, which is still more effectual.
DEAR FRIEND: Exciting things are happening in Manheim! If we can believe the weekly updates from Monsieur Roderigue, the best writer among the moderns; not only the "brilliant and numerous hunts of the operas where the actors excel during the Saint days of L. L. A. A. E. E." but also, to top it all off, Monsieur Zuchmantel has arrived, and Monsieur Wartenslebeu is expected at any moment. I hope you're enjoying all these delights; although, as Noll Bluff says in the “Old Bachelor,” THAT RASCALLY GAZETTEER DOESN’T PAY ANY ATTENTION TO YOU AS IF YOU WERE NOT EVEN ALIVE. I would think he could at least acknowledge that during these celebrations you showed up looking cheerful and not gloomy; and you stood out in that large and radiant company with your demeanor, outfit, charm, and attentiveness. If this is true, as I both hope and believe it is, I can, if you’d like, write to him to give you the recognition you deserve in his next ‘supplement’. Seriously, I’m really glad to hear you’re caught up in that whirlwind of fun; it smooths out life’s rough edges. Maybe you even have a special CONNECTION that’s even more effective.
Schannat’s “History of the Palatinate” was, I find, written originally in German, in which language I suppose it is that you have read it; but, as I must humbly content myself with the French translation, Vaillant has sent for it for me from Holland, so that I have not yet read it. While you are in the Palatinate, you do very well to read everything relative to it; you will do still better if you make that reading the foundation of your inquiries into the more minute circumstances and anecdotes of that country, whenever you are in company with informed and knowing people.
Schannat's “History of the Palatinate” was originally written in German, which I assume is the version you've read; however, I can only rely on the French translation. Vaillant has ordered it for me from Holland, so I haven't had a chance to read it yet. While you're in the Palatinate, it's a good idea to read everything related to it; you'll benefit even more if you use that reading as a basis for your questions about the finer details and stories of that region whenever you're with knowledgeable people.
The Ministers here, intimidated on the absurd and groundless clamors of the mob, have, very weakly in my mind, repealed, this session, the bill which they had passed in the last for rendering Jews capable of being naturalized by subsequent acts of parliament. The clamorers triumph, and will doubtless make further demands, which, if not granted, this piece of complaisance will soon be forgotten. Nothing is truer in politics, than this reflection of the Cardinal de Retz, ‘Que le peuple craint toujours quand on ne le craint pas’; and consequently they grow unreasonable and insolent, when they find that they are feared. Wise and honest governors will never, if they can help it, give the people just cause to complain; but then, on the other hand, they will firmly withstand groundless clamor. Besides that this noise against the Jew bill proceeds from that narrow mobspirit of INTOLERATION in religious, and inhospitality in civil matters; both which all wise governments should oppose.
The ministers here, intimidated by the ridiculous and unfounded shouts of the mob, have, in my opinion, weakly repealed the bill they passed last session that allowed Jews to be naturalized through later acts of parliament. The loud protesters are celebrating and will surely make more demands, which, if not met, this act of appeasement will soon be forgotten. Nothing is truer in politics than the saying of Cardinal de Retz, “The people always fear when they are not feared”; and as a result, they become unreasonable and arrogant when they realize they are being feared. Wise and honest leaders will never, if they can avoid it, give the people a legitimate reason to complain; but on the other hand, they will firmly resist baseless outcries. Moreover, this outcry against the Jew bill stems from that narrow-minded mob mentality of INTOLERANCE in religious matters and hostility in civil issues; both of which all wise governments should oppose.
The confusion in France increases daily, as, no doubt, you are informed where you are. There is an answer of the clergy to the remonstrances of the parliament, lately published, which was sent me by the last post from France, and which I would have sent you, inclosed in this, were it not too bulky. Very probably you may see it at Manheim, from the French Minister: it is very well worth your reading, being most artfully and plausibly written, though founded upon false principles; the ‘jus divinum’ of the clergy, and consequently their supremacy in all matters of faith and doctrine are asserted; both which I absolutely deny. Were those two points allowed the clergy of any country whatsoever, they must necessarily govern that country absolutely; everything being, directly or indirectly, relative to faith or doctrine; and whoever is supposed to have the power of saving and damning souls to all eternity (which power the clergy pretend to), will be much more considered, and better obeyed, than any civil power that forms no pretensions beyond this world. Whereas, in truth, the clergy in every country are, like all other subjects, dependent upon the supreme legislative power, and are appointed by that power under whatever restrictions and limitations it pleases, to keep up decency and decorum in the church, just as constables are to keep peace in the parish. This Fra Paolo has clearly proved, even upon their own principles of the Old and New Testament, in his book ‘de Beneficiis’, which I recommend to you to read with attention; it is short. Adieu.
The confusion in France is growing every day, as you surely know where you are. There’s a response from the clergy to the parliament's complaints, recently published, which I received from the last post from France. I would have sent it to you enclosed with this, but it’s too lengthy. You might see it in Manheim from the French Minister; it’s worth reading, as it’s written very convincingly, even though it's based on false principles. The clergy assert their 'divine right' and thus their authority over all matters of faith and doctrine, both of which I completely reject. If those two points were accepted by the clergy in any country, they would inevitably end up governing that country entirely, since everything relates to faith or doctrine in one way or another. Whoever is believed to have the power to save or condemn souls for eternity (which the clergy claim they possess) will be more respected and obeyed than any civil authority that only claims power in this world. In truth, however, the clergy in every country are like all other citizens, dependent on the supreme legislative authority, and are appointed by that power under any restrictions it chooses, to maintain order and decorum in the church, much like constables maintain peace in the parish. This has been clearly demonstrated by Fra Paolo in his book 'De Beneficiis,' which I encourage you to read carefully; it’s brief. Goodbye.
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.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I got two letters from you at once, one dated the 7th and the other the 15th, both from Manheim.
You never had in your life so good a reason for not writing, either to me or to anybody else, as your sore finger lately furnished you. I believe it was painful, and I am glad it is cured; but a sore finger, however painful, is a much less evil than laziness, of either body or mind, and attended by fewer ill consequences.
You’ve never had such a good reason in your life for not writing to me or anyone else as your sore finger recently gave you. I believe it was painful, and I’m glad it’s better now; but a sore finger, no matter how painful, is a much smaller issue than laziness, whether physical or mental, and comes with fewer negative outcomes.
I am very glad to hear that you were distinguished at the court of Manheim from the rest of your countrymen and fellow-travelers: it is a sign that you had better manners and address than they; for take it for granted, the best-bred people will always be the best received wherever they go. Good manners are the settled medium of social, as specie is of commercial life; returns are equally expected for both; and people will no more advance their civility to a bear, than their money to a bankrupt. I really both hope and believe, that the German courts will do you a great deal of good; their ceremony and restraint being the proper correctives and antidotes for your negligence and inattention. I believe they would not greatly relish your weltering in your own laziness, and an easy chair; nor take it very kindly, if, when they spoke to you or you to them, you looked another way, as much as to say, kiss my b——h. As they give, so they require attention; and, by the way, take this maxim for an undoubted truth, That no young man can possibly improve in any company, for which he has not respect enough to be under some degree of restraint.
I'm really glad to hear that you stood out at the court of Manheim compared to your fellow countrymen and travelers. It shows you have better manners and social skills than they do; believe me, well-bred people will always be welcomed wherever they go. Good manners are like the currency of social life, just as money is for business; you should expect something in return for both. People won’t offer their civility to someone rude just like they wouldn't lend money to a bankrupt. I truly hope and believe that the German courts will benefit you greatly; their formality and structure are just the right remedies for your lack of discipline and focus. I don't think they would appreciate you lounging around in laziness, nor would they take kindly to you ignoring them when they speak to you, as if to say you don't care. They expect attention in return for their civility, and remember this important truth: no young man can truly improve in any company where he doesn't respect enough to maintain some level of discipline.
I dare not trust to Meyssonier’s report of his Rhenish, his Burgundy not having answered either his account or my expectations. I doubt, as a wine merchant, he is the ‘perfidus caupo’, whatever he may be as a banker. I shall therefore venture upon none of his wine; but delay making my provision of Old Hock, till I go abroad myself next spring: as I told you in the utmost secrecy, in my last, that I intend to do; and then probably I may taste some that I like, and go upon sure ground. There is commonly very good, both at Aix-la-Chapelle and Liege, where I formerly got some excellent, which I carried with me to Spa, where I drank no other wine.
I don't trust Meyssonier’s report on his Rhenish; his Burgundy hasn’t met either his claims or my expectations. I doubt he’s a reliable wine merchant, whatever he might be as a banker. So, I won’t risk buying any of his wine; I’ll wait to stock up on Old Hock until I travel abroad myself next spring, as I mentioned to you in confidence in my last letter. Then, I’ll probably get to taste some that I like and be on solid ground. There’s usually very good wine available in both Aix-la-Chapelle and Liege, where I used to find some excellent options, which I took with me to Spa, where I drank nothing else.
As my letters to you frequently miscarry, I will repeat in this that part of my last which related to your future motions. Whenever you shall be tired of Berlin, go to Dresden; where Sir Charles Williams will be, who will receive you with open arms. He dined with me to-day, and sets out for Dresden in about six weeks. He spoke of you with great kindness and impatience to see you again. He will trust and employ you in business (and he is now in the whole secret of importance) till we fix our place to meet in: which probably will be Spa. Wherever you are, inform yourself minutely of, and attend particularly to the affairs of France; they grow serious, and in my opinion will grow more and more so every day. The King is despised and I do not wonder at it; but he has brought it about to be hated at the same time, which seldom happens to the same man. His ministers are known to be as disunited as incapable; he hesitates between the Church and the parliaments, like the ass in the fable, that starved between two hampers of hay: too much in love with his mistress to part with her, and too much afraid of his soul to enjoy her; jealous of the parliaments, who would support his authority; and a devoted bigot to the Church, that would destroy it. The people are poor, consequently discontented; those who have religion, are divided in their notions of it; which is saying that they hate one another. The clergy never do forgive; much less will they forgive the parliament; the parliament never will forgive them. The army must, without doubt, take, in their own minds at last, different parts in all these disputes, which upon occasion would break out. Armies, though always the supporters and tools of absolute power for the time being, are always the destroyers of it, too, by frequently changing the hands in which they think proper to lodge it. This was the case of the Praetorian bands, who deposed and murdered the monsters they had raised to oppress mankind. The Janissaries in turkey, and the regiments of guards in Russia, do the same now. The French nation reasons freely, which they never did before, upon matters of religion and government, and begin to be ‘sprejiudicati’; the officers do so too; in short, all the symptoms, which I have ever met with in history previous to great changes and revolutions in government, now exist, and daily increase, in France. I am glad of it; the rest of Europe will be the quieter, and have time to recover. England, I am sure, wants rest, for it wants men and money; the Republic of the United Provinces wants both still more; the other Powers cannot well dance, when neither France, nor the maritime powers, can, as they used to do, pay the piper. The first squabble in Europe, that I foresee, will be about the Crown of Poland, should the present King die: and therefore I wish his Majesty a long life and a merry Christmas. So much for foreign politics; but ‘a propos’ of them, pray take care, while you are in those parts of Germany, to inform yourself correctly of all the details, discussions, and agreements, which the several wars, confiscations, bans, and treaties, occasioned between the Bavarian and Palatine Electorates; they are interesting and curious.
Since my letters to you often get lost, I’ll repeat part of my last message that concerned your future plans. Whenever you tire of Berlin, go to Dresden, where Sir Charles Williams will welcome you with open arms. He had lunch with me today and plans to leave for Dresden in about six weeks. He spoke about you with great kindness and is eager to see you again. He will trust and involve you in important business (and he is currently in on the critical secret) until we decide where to meet, which will likely be Spa. Wherever you are, make sure you stay updated and pay special attention to the situation in France; it’s getting serious, and in my opinion, it will only get worse every day. The King is despised, and I understand why; he has managed to be hated in a unique way, which doesn’t happen to the same person often. His ministers are known to be as divided as they are incompetent; he wavers between the Church and the parliaments, like the donkey in the fable that starved between two stacks of hay: too in love with his mistress to leave her and too afraid of losing his soul to enjoy her; jealous of the parliaments, who would support his power, and a devoted zealot to the Church, which would destroy it. The people are poor and therefore discontented; those with religious beliefs are divided in their views, which means they hate each other. The clergy never forgive; even less so the parliament, and the parliament will never forgive them either. The army will undoubtedly take different sides in all these disputes, which could explode at any time. Armies, though typically the enforcers and tools of absolute power at the moment, also tend to destroy it by frequently shifting the power they decide to support. This was the case with the Praetorian Guard, who deposed and killed the tyrants they once helped to oppress people. The Janissaries in Turkey and the guards in Russia do the same today. The French nation is discussing freely now, which they never did before, about matters of religion and government, and they’re starting to be ‘sprejiudicati’; the officers are doing the same. In short, all the signs I’ve ever seen in history before major changes and revolutions in government are now present and increasing every day in France. I’m glad about it; the rest of Europe will be calmer and have time to recover. England definitely needs peace, as it lacks both men and money; the Republic of the United Provinces needs both even more; the other powers can't effectively operate when neither France nor the maritime powers can pay their way like they used to. The first conflict in Europe that I foresee will be over the Crown of Poland if the current King dies, so I wish His Majesty a long life and a merry Christmas. That’s enough about foreign politics; but by the way, while you’re in those parts of Germany, please make sure to gather accurate information about all the details, discussions, and agreements related to the various wars, confiscations, bans, and treaties between the Bavarian and Palatine Electorates; they are interesting and worth knowing.
I shall not, upon the occasion of the approaching new year, repeat to you the wishes which I continue to form for you; you know them all already, and you know that it is absolutely in your power to satisfy most of them. Among many other wishes, this is my most earnest one: That you would open the new year with a most solemn and devout sacrifice to the Graces; who never reject those that supplicate them with fervor; without them, let me tell you, that your friend Dame Fortune will stand you in little stead; may they all be your friends! Adieu.
I won’t, as we approach the new year, repeat the wishes I still have for you; you already know them all, and you know that it’s entirely up to you to make most of them come true. Among many other wishes, this is my most heartfelt one: That you welcome the new year with a sincere and meaningful offering to the Graces; they never turn away those who ask with enthusiasm. Without their favor, let me tell you, your friend Dame Fortune won’t help you much; may they all be your allies! Goodbye.
LETTER CXCIII
LONDON, January 15, 1754
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 26th past from Munich. Since you are got so well out of the distress and dangers of your journey from Manheim, I am glad that you were in them:
MY DEAR FRIEND: I just received your letter from Munich dated the 26th of last month. Since you have come through the hardships and dangers of your journey from Manheim so well, I’m glad you experienced them:
“Condisce i diletti
Memorie di pene,
Ne sa che sia bene
Chi mal non soffri.”
“Learn the delights
Memories of pain,
He knows nothing good
Who does not suffer harm.”They were but little samples of the much greater distress and dangers which you must expect to meet within your great, and I hope, long journey through life. In some parts of it, flowers are scattered, with profusion, the road is smooth, and the prospect pleasant: but in others (and I fear the greater number) the road is rugged, beset with thorns and briars, and cut by torrents. Gather the flowers in your way; but, at the same time, guard against the briars that are either mixed with them, or that most certainly succeed them.
They are just small reminders of the much bigger struggles and dangers you can expect to face on your long journey through life. In some areas, flowers bloom abundantly, the path is smooth, and the outlook is bright. But in other places (and I worry this is where the majority lies), the road is rough, filled with thorns and brambles, and crossed by raging streams. Pick the flowers you find along the way; however, be careful of the thorns that are either tangled up with them or will definitely come after.
I thank you for your wild boar; who, now he is dead, I assure him, ‘se laissera bien manger malgre qu’il en ait’; though I am not so sure that I should have had that personal valor which so successfully distinguished you in single combat with him, which made him bite the dust like Homer’s heroes, and, to conclude my period sublimely, put him into that PICKLE, from which I propose eating him. At the same time that I applaud your valor, I must do justice to your modesty; which candidly admits that you were not overmatched, and that your adversary was about your own age and size. A Maracassin, being under a year old, would have been below your indignation. ‘Bete de compagne’, being under two years old, was still, in my opinion, below your glory; but I guess that your enemy was ‘un Ragot’, that is, from two to three years old; an age and size which, between man and boar, answer pretty well to yours.
I appreciate the wild boar you sent me; now that he’s dead, I assure him, “he will be just fine to eat even though he didn’t want to.” Still, I’m not so sure I would have had the courage that you showed in your successful one-on-one fight with him, which made him fall like the heroes of Homer, and, to wrap up my point dramatically, put him in that pickle jar from which I plan to eat him. While I commend your bravery, I also want to acknowledge your humility; you honestly admit that you were evenly matched, and that your opponent was about your own age and size. A Maracassin, being under a year old, wouldn’t have been worthy of your efforts. A “Bete de compagne” under two years old was still, in my view, below your level of glory; but I suspect that your foe was “un Ragot,” which is between two to three years old; an age and size that correspond pretty well with yours.
If accidents of bad roads or waters do not detain you at Munich, I do not fancy that pleasures will: and I rather believe you will seek for, and find them, at the Carnival at Berlin; in which supposition, I eventually direct this letter to your banker there. While you are at Berlin (I earnestly recommend it to you again and again) pray CARE to see, hear, know, and mind, everything there. THE ABLEST PRINCE IN EUROPE is surely an object that deserves attention; and the least thing that he does, like the smallest sketches of the greatest painters, has its value, and a considerable one too.
If bad roads or water delays don't hold you up in Munich, I doubt that anything else will distract you from having a good time. I believe you'll be looking for and enjoying the Carnival in Berlin; so I'm sending this letter to your banker there. While you're in Berlin (I can't stress this enough), please make sure to see, hear, learn about, and pay attention to everything around you. THE ABLEST PRINCE IN EUROPE is definitely worth your attention; even the smallest things he does, like the tiniest sketches from the greatest artists, have substantial value.
Read with care the Code Frederick, and inform yourself of the good effects of it in those parts of, his dominions where it has taken place, and where it has banished the former chicanes, quirks, and quibbles of the old law. Do not think any detail too minute or trifling for your inquiry and observation. I wish that you could find one hour’s leisure every day, to read some good Italian author, and to converse in that language with our worthy friend Signor Angelo Cori; it would both refresh and improve your Italian, which, of the many languages you know, I take to be that in which you are the least perfect; but of which, too, you already know enough to make yourself master of, with very little trouble, whenever you please.
Carefully read the Code Frederick and learn about its positive effects in those areas of his dominions where it has been implemented, eliminating the previous legal complications and loopholes. Don't consider any detail too small or insignificant for your inquiry and observation. I hope you can find an hour each day to read a good Italian author and practice speaking that language with our esteemed friend Signor Angelo Cori; it would both refresh and enhance your Italian, which, among the many languages you know, I believe you are least proficient in. However, you already know enough to master it with very little effort whenever you choose.
Live, dwell, and grow at the several courts there; use them so much to your face, that they may not look upon you as a stranger. Observe, and take their ‘ton’, even to their affectations and follies; for such there are, and perhaps should be, at all courts. Stay, in all events, at Berlin, till I inform you of Sir Charles Williams’s arrival at Dresden; where I suppose you would not care to be before him, and where you may go as soon after him as ever you please. Your time there will neither be unprofitably nor disagreeably spent; he will introduce you into all the best company, though he can introduce you to none so good as his own. He has of late applied himself very seriously to foreign affairs, especially those of Saxony and Poland; he knows them perfectly well, and will tell you what he knows. He always expresses, and I have good reason to believe very sincerely, great kindness and affection for you.
Live, stay, and thrive at the various courts there; get so comfortable with them that they no longer see you as a stranger. Notice their vibe, even their quirks and silly behaviors; after all, those exist at every court, and maybe they should. In any case, remain in Berlin until I update you about Sir Charles Williams’s arrival in Dresden; I assume you wouldn’t want to be there before him, and you can go right after him whenever you want. Your time there won’t be wasted or unpleasant; he will introduce you to all the best people, although no one will compare to his own company. He has recently dedicated himself seriously to international matters, especially regarding Saxony and Poland; he knows them very well and will share what he knows with you. He always shows, and I have good reason to believe he genuinely feels, a lot of kindness and affection for you.
The works of the late Lord Bolingbroke are just published, and have plunged me into philosophical studies; which hitherto I have not been much used to, or delighted with; convinced of the futility of those researches; but I have read his “Philosophical Essay” upon the extent of human knowledge, which, by the way, makes two large quartos and a half. He there shows very clearly, and with most splendid eloquence, what the human mind can and cannot do; that our understandings are wisely calculated for our place in this planet, and for the link which we form in the universal chain of things; but that they are by no means capable of that degree of knowledge, which our curiosity makes us search after, and which our vanity makes us often believe we arrive at. I shall not recommend to you the reading of that work; but, when you return hither, I shall recommend to your frequent and diligent perusal all his tracts that are relative to our history and constitution; upon which he throws lights, and scatters graces, which no other writer has ever done.
The works of the late Lord Bolingbroke have just been published, and they've drawn me into philosophical studies, which I haven't really engaged with or enjoyed much before, due to my belief in the futility of such pursuits. However, I did read his “Philosophical Essay” on the limits of human knowledge, which spans two and a half large volumes. In it, he clearly and eloquently explains what the human mind can and cannot achieve; that our understanding is well-suited to our role on this planet and to the connection we form in the universal chain of existence, but it definitely doesn't reach the level of knowledge that our curiosity drives us to seek and that our vanity often leads us to think we've attained. I won't recommend you read that work, but when you get back here, I will suggest that you regularly and carefully read all his writings related to our history and constitution, as he sheds light on them and adds insights that no one else ever has.
Reading, which was always a pleasure to me, in the time even of my greatest dissipation, is now become my only refuge; and, I fear, I indulge it too much at the expense of my eyes. But what can I do? I must do something; I cannot bear absolute idleness; my ears grow every day more useless to me, my eyes consequently more necessary; I will not hoard them like a miser, but will rather risk the loss, than not enjoy the use of them.
Reading, which has always been a pleasure for me, even during my most chaotic times, has now become my only escape; and I worry that I indulge in it too much at the expense of my eyesight. But what can I do? I need to do something; I can't stand being completely idle; my hearing becomes less useful to me every day, so my eyesight becomes more essential; I won't hoard it like a miser, but I'd rather take the risk of losing it than not enjoy using it.
Pray let me know all the particulars, not only of your reception at Munich, but also at Berlin; at the latter, I believe, it will be a good one; for his Prussian Majesty knows, that I have long been AN ADMIRER AND RESPECTER OF HIS GREAT AND VARIOUS TALENTS. Adieu.
Please let me know all the details, not just about your reception in Munich, but also in Berlin; for the latter, I believe it will be positive, as his Prussian Majesty knows that I have long been an admirer and respector of his great and diverse talents. Goodbye.
LETTER CXCIV
LONDON, February 1, 1754
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, yesterday, yours of the 12th, from Munich; in consequence of which, I direct this to you there, though I directed my three last to Berlin, where I suppose you will find them at your arrival. Since you are not only domesticated, but ‘niche’ at Munich, you are much in the right to stay there. It is not by seeing places that one knows them, but by familiar and daily conversations with the people of fashion. I would not care to be in the place of that prodigy of beauty, whom you are to drive ‘dans la course de Traineaux’; and I am apt to think you are much more likely to break her bones, than she is, though ever so cruel, to break your heart. Nay, I am not sure but that, according to all the rules of gallantry, you are obliged to overturn her on purpose; in the first place, for the chance of seeing her backside; in the next, for the sake of the contrition and concern which it would give you an opportunity of showing; and, lastly, upon account of all the ‘gentillesses et epigrammes’, which it would naturally suggest. Voiture has made several stanzas upon an accident of that kind, which happened to a lady of his acquaintance. There is a great deal of wit in them, rather too much; for, according to the taste of those times, they are full of what the Italians call ‘concetti spiritosissimi’; the Spaniards ‘agudeze’; and we, affectation and quaintness. I hope you have endeavored to suit your ‘Traineau’ to the character of the fair-one whom it is to contain. If she is of an irascible, impetuous disposition (as fine women can sometimes be), you will doubtless place her in the body of a lion, a tiger, a dragon, or some tremendous beast of prey and fury; if she is a sublime and stately beauty, which I think more probable (for unquestionably she is ‘hogh gebohrne’), you will, I suppose, provide a magnificent swan or proud peacock for her reception; but if she is all tenderness and softness, you have, to be sure, taken care amorous doves and wanton sparrows should seem to flutter round her. Proper mottos, I take it for granted, that you have eventually prepared; but if not, you may find a great many ready-made ones in ‘Les Entretiens d’Ariste et d’Eugene, sur les Devises’, written by Pere Bouhours, and worth your reading at any time. I will not say to you, upon this occasion, like the father in Ovid,
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from Munich yesterday, dated the 12th. Because of that, I’m writing to you there, although I’ve sent my last three letters to Berlin, where I assume you’ll find them when you arrive. Since you’re not just staying but have settled in at Munich, you’re definitely right to stay there. You don’t get to know places just by seeing them; it’s through familiar and daily conversations with fashionable people that you truly understand them. I wouldn’t want to be in the shoes of that stunning beauty you’re set to take out in a sled; I think you’re much more likely to hurt her than she is, no matter how cruel she might be, to break your heart. In fact, I’m not so sure that, according to all the rules of chivalry, you aren’t expected to tip her over on purpose—not just for the chance to see her backside, but also so that you can show your concern and remorse, and lastly, for all the clever remarks and witty comments it would naturally lead to. Voiture has written several stanzas about an incident like that involving a lady he knew. They’re quite witty, perhaps too much so, because according to the tastes of their time, they’re full of what the Italians call ‘concetti spiritosissimi’; the Spaniards ‘agudeze’; and we would call it affectation and quaintness. I hope you’ve tried to match your sled to the character of the lovely lady it will carry. If she’s irritable and passionate (which pretty women can sometimes be), you’ll surely place her in the body of a lion, a tiger, a dragon, or some other fearsome beast. If she’s a grand and noble beauty, which I find more likely (for she’s certainly ‘hogh gebohrne’), I suppose you’ll prepare a magnificent swan or a proud peacock for her. But if she’s all tenderness and softness, you’ve definitely made sure that amorous doves and playful sparrows flutter around her. I assume you’ve prepared appropriate mottos, but if not, you can find plenty of ready-made ones in ‘Les Entretiens d’Ariste et d’Eugene, sur les Devises’, written by Pere Bouhours, which is worth reading at any time. I won’t say to you, on this occasion, like the father in Ovid,
“Parce, puer, stimulis, et fortius utere loris.”
“Hey, kid, use the reins more and push harder with them.”
On the contrary, drive on briskly; it is not the chariot of the sun that you drive, but you carry the sun in your chariot; consequently, the faster it goes, the less it will be likely to scorch or consume. This is Spanish enough, I am sure.
On the other hand, keep going quickly; you're not driving the sun's chariot, but you carry the sun in your own chariot; so, the faster you go, the less likely it is to burn or destroy. This should be clear enough in Spanish, I’m sure.
If this finds you still at Munich, pray make many compliments from me to Mr. Burrish, to whom I am very much obliged for all his kindness to you; it is true, that while I had power I endeavored to serve him; but it is as true too, that I served many others more, who have neither returned nor remembered those services.
If you’re still in Munich, please send my regards to Mr. Burrish. I’m really grateful for all his kindness to you. It’s true that I tried to help him when I could, but it’s also true that I helped many others even more, and they haven’t acknowledged or returned those favors.
I have been very ill this last fortnight, of your old Carniolian complaint, the ‘arthritis vaga’; luckily, it did not fall upon my breast, but seized on my right arm; there it fixed its seat of empire; but, as in all tyrannical governments, the remotest parts felt their share of its severity. Last post I was not able to hold a pen long enough to write to you, and therefore desired Mr. Grevenkop to do it for me; but that letter was directed to Berlin. My pain is now much abated, though I have still some fine remains of it in my shoulder, where I fear it will tease me a great while. I must be careful to take Horace’s advice, and consider well, ‘Quid valeant humeri, quid ferre recusent’.
I've been really sick for the past two weeks with your old Carniolian issue, the 'arthritis vaga'; luckily, it didn’t affect my chest but hit my right arm instead. That became its main stronghold, but just like in any oppressive regime, the farthest parts still felt the effects of its harshness. In the last mail, I couldn't hold a pen long enough to write to you, so I had Mr. Grevenkop do it for me; however, that letter was sent to Berlin. My pain has eased a lot now, although I still have some lingering discomfort in my shoulder, and I worry it will bother me for quite a while. I need to be careful and take Horace's advice, and think carefully about, ‘What the shoulders are capable of, and what they refuse to bear’.
Lady Chesterfield bids me make you her compliments, and assure you that the music will be much more welcome to her with you, than without you.
Lady Chesterfield sends her regards and wants me to assure you that the music will be much more enjoyable for her with you there than without you.
In some of my last letters, which were directed to, and will, I suppose, wait for you at Berlin, I complimented you, and with justice, upon your great improvement of late in the epistolary way, both with regard to the style and the turn of your letters; your four or five last to me have been very good ones, and one that you wrote to Mr. Harte, upon the new year, was so pretty a one, and he was so much and so justly pleased with it, that he sent it me from Windsor the instant he had read it. This talent (and a most necessary one it is in the course of life) is to be acquired by resolving, and taking pains to acquire it; and, indeed, so is every talent except poetry, which is undoubtedly a gift. Think, therefore, night and day, of the turn, the purity, the correctness, the perspicuity, and the elegance of whatever you speak or write; take my word for it, your labor will not be in vain, but greatly rewarded by the harvest of praise and success which it will bring you. Delicacy of turn, and elegance of style, are ornaments as necessary to common sense, as attentions, address, and fashionable manners, are to common civility; both may subsist without them, but then, without being of the least use to the owner. The figure of a man is exactly the same in dirty rags, or in the finest and best chosen clothes; but in which of the two he is the most likely to please, and to be received in good company, I leave to you to determine.
In some of my recent letters, which I assume are waiting for you in Berlin, I praised you, quite rightly, for your significant improvement lately in letter writing, both in style and content. Your last four or five letters to me have been really good, and one you wrote to Mr. Harte for the New Year was so lovely that he was so pleased with it that he sent it to me from Windsor as soon as he read it. This skill (and it’s a necessary one in life) can be developed through determination and effort; almost every ability can be learned this way, except for poetry, which is clearly a natural talent. So, think constantly about the tone, clarity, correctness, and elegance of everything you say or write; trust me, your efforts will not be wasted, but will be richly rewarded with praise and success. The nuances in tone and elegance in style are as essential to common sense as good manners and social skills are to politeness. Both can exist without these qualities, but they won’t be of much use to the person lacking them. A person's appearance may be the same in torn clothes or well-chosen attire, but which of the two is more likely to be well-received in good company, I’ll leave that for you to decide.
Both my arm and my paper hint to me, to bid you good-night.
Both my arm and my paper signal me to say goodnight.
LETTER CXCV
LONDON, February 12, 1754.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I take my aim, and let off this letter at you at Berlin; I should be sorry it missed you, because I believe you will read it with as much pleasure as I write it. It is to inform you, that, after some difficulties and dangers, your seat in the new parliament is at last absolutely secured, and that without opposition, or the least necessity of your personal trouble or appearance. This success, I must further inform you, is in a great degree owing to Mr. Eliot’s friendship to us both; for he brings you in with himself at his surest borough. As it was impossible to act with more zeal and friendship than Mr. Eliot has acted in this whole affair, I desire that you will, by the very next post, write him a letter of thanks, warm and young thanks, not old and cold ones. You may inclose it in yours to me, and, I will send it to him, for he is now in Cornwall.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I'm sending this letter your way from Berlin; I would hate for it to miss you because I believe you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. I wanted to let you know that, after some challenges and dangers, your spot in the new parliament is finally secured, and without any opposition or the slightest need for you to get involved personally. I must also tell you that this success is largely thanks to Mr. Eliot’s support for both of us; he’s bringing you in along with himself at his most reliable constituency. Since Mr. Eliot has shown more enthusiasm and friendship in this entire matter than anyone could, I ask that you write him a letter of thanks by the very next post, a warm and heartfelt thanks, not a stiff and formal one. You can include it in your letter to me, and I'll send it to him since he’s currently in Cornwall.
Thus, sure of being a senator, I dare say you do not propose to be one of the ‘pedarii senatores, et pedibus ire in sententiam; for, as the House of Commons is the theatre where you must make your fortune and figure in the world, you must resolve to be an actor, and not a ‘persona muta’, which is just equivalent to a candle snuffer upon other theatres. Whoever does not shine there, is obscure, insignificant and contemptible; and you cannot conceive how easy it is for a man of half your sense and knowledge to shine there if he pleases. The receipt to make a speaker, and an applauded one too, is short and easy.—Take of common sense ‘quantum sufcit’, add a little application to the rules and orders of the House, throw obvious thoughts in a new light, and make up the whole with a large quantity of purity, correctness, and elegance of style. Take it for granted, that by far the greatest part of mankind do neither analyze nor search to the bottom; they are incapable of penetrating deeper than the surface. All have senses to be gratified, very few have reason to be applied to. Graceful utterance and action please their eyes, elegant diction tickles their ears; but strong reason would be thrown away upon them. I am not only persuaded by theory, but convinced by my experience, that (supposing a certain degree of common sense) what is called a good speaker is as much a mechanic as a good shoemaker; and that the two trades are equally to be learned by the same degree of application. Therefore, for God’s sake, let this trade be the principal object of your thoughts; never lose sight of it. Attend minutely to your style, whatever language you speak or write in; seek for the best words, and think of the best turns. Whenever you doubt of the propriety or elegance of any word, search the dictionary or some good author for it, or inquire of somebody, who is master of that language; and, in a little time, propriety and elegance of diction will become so habitual to you, that they will cost you no more trouble. As I have laid this down to be mechanical and attainable by whoever will take the necessary pains, there will be no great vanity in my saying, that I saw the importance of the object so early, and attended to it so young, that it would now cost me more trouble to speak or write ungrammatically, vulgarly, and inelegantly, than ever it did to avoid doing so. The late Lord Bolingbroke, without the least trouble, talked all day long, full as elegantly as he wrote. Why? Not by a peculiar gift from heaven; but, as he has often told me himself, by an early and constant attention to his style. The present Solicitor-General, Murray,—[Created Lord Mansfield in the year 1756.]—has less law than many lawyers, but has more practice than any; merely upon account of his eloquence, of which he has a never-failing stream. I remember so long ago as when I was at Cambridge, whenever I read pieces of eloquence (and indeed they were my chief study) whether ancient or modern, I used to write down the shining passages, and then translate them, as well and as elegantly as ever I could; if Latin or French, into English; if English, into French. This, which I practiced for some years, not only improved and formed my style, but imprinted in my mind and memory the best thoughts of the best authors. The trouble was little, but the advantage I have experienced was great. While you are abroad, you can neither have time nor opportunity to read pieces of English or parliamentary eloquence, as I hope you will carefully do when you return; but, in the meantime, whenever pieces of French eloquence come in your way, such as the speeches of persons received into the Academy, ‘orasions funebres’, representations of the several parliaments to the King, etc., read them in that view, in that spirit; observe the harmony, the turn and elegance of the style; examine in what you think it might have been better; and consider in what, had you written it yourself; you might have done worse. Compare the different manners of expressing the same thoughts in different authors; and observe how differently the same things appear in different dresses. Vulgar, coarse, and ill-chosen words, will deform and degrade the best thoughts as much as rags and dirt will the best figure. In short, you now know your object; pursue it steadily, and have no digressions that are not relative to, and connected with, the main action. Your success in parliament will effectually remove all OTHER OBJECTIONS; either a foreign or a domestic destination will no longer be refused you, if you make your way to it through Westminster.
So, being confident about becoming a senator, I assume you don’t want to be one of those 'pedarii senatores, et pedibus ire in sententiam'; because, as the House of Commons is where you need to build your career and make your name, you need to commit to being an active participant, not just a 'silent actor,' which is basically like a candle snuffer at other performances. Anyone who doesn’t shine there will be overlooked, insignificant, and held in disdain; and you can’t imagine how easy it is for someone with half your intelligence and knowledge to stand out if they choose to. The recipe for becoming a good speaker, and one that gets applause, is straightforward—mix a good amount of common sense, add a bit of focus on the rules and procedures of the House, present obvious ideas in a fresh light, and finish it off with a generous dose of clarity, correctness, and stylish language. Keep in mind that most people neither analyze deeply nor explore thoroughly; they can only perceive what’s on the surface. Everyone enjoys having their senses appealed to, while very few apply their reasoning. Smooth delivery and actions catch their eye, elegant wording pleases their ears; but strong reasoning would go over their heads. I’m not just speaking from theory but also from experience; a good speaker is just as much a craft as being a skilled shoemaker, and both skills can be mastered with the same level of determination. Therefore, for goodness' sake, make this craft your main focus; never lose sight of it. Pay close attention to your style, regardless of the language you’re speaking or writing. Search for the best words and consider the most effective phrases. Whenever you question whether a word is appropriate or elegant, consult the dictionary, a reputable author, or someone proficient in that language; soon enough, the proper and polished use of words will become second nature to you, and you won’t find it difficult anymore. Since I’ve established that speaking well is mechanical and achievable for anyone willing to put in the necessary effort, it isn’t boastful for me to say that I recognized the importance of this skill early on and focused on it from a young age, to the point that it now takes me more effort to speak or write poorly than it ever did to avoid it. The late Lord Bolingbroke spoke with the same elegance as he wrote, all day long, without any struggle. Why? Not because of some unique divine gift; he often told me it was due to his early and consistent attention to style. The current Solicitor-General, Murray—[Created Lord Mansfield in 1756.]—may not know as much law as many lawyers, but he definitely has more practical experience than anyone else, thanks to his eloquence, which flows effortlessly. I remember when I was at Cambridge, I would write down great passages whenever I read eloquent pieces (which were my main focus), whether they were ancient or modern, and then translate them as beautifully as I could; if they were in Latin or French, I translated them into English; if in English, to French. This practice, which I followed for several years, not only enhanced and shaped my style but also engrained the best ideas of the best authors in my mind. It required little effort, but the benefits I gained were immense. While you’re away, you may not have the time or chance to read examples of English or parliamentary eloquence as I hope you will when you return; but in the meantime, whenever you come across pieces of French eloquence, such as speeches given by new members of the Academy, 'oraisons funebres,' or reports from different parliaments to the King, read them with that objective and mindset; notice the flow, the phrasing, and the elegance of the style; think about how it might have been improved, and consider how you could have done worse if you wrote it yourself. Compare how different authors express the same ideas and how the same concepts can look different in different styles. Crude, harsh, and poorly chosen words can tarnish and ruin the best thoughts just as rags and dirt can ruin a great figure. In summary, you now know your goal; chase it consistently, and avoid any digressions that aren’t relevant to the main focus. Your success in Parliament will effectively eliminate all OTHER OBJECTIONS; whether it’s about a foreign or domestic role, it won’t be denied to you if you pave your way through Westminster.
I think I may now say, that I am quite recovered from my late illness, strength and spirits excepted, which are not yet restored. Aix-la-Chapelle and Spa will, I believe, answer all my purposes.
I think I can now say that I’ve mostly recovered from my recent illness, except for my strength and spirits, which haven’t returned yet. I believe Aix-la-Chapelle and Spa will meet all my needs.
I long to hear an account of your reception at Berlin, which I fancy will be a most gracious one. Adieu.
I can't wait to hear how your welcome in Berlin went, which I imagine was very pleasant. Goodbye.
LETTER CXCVI
LONDON, February 15, 1754
MY DEAR FRIEND: I can now with great truth apply your own motto to you, ‘Nullum numen abest, si sit Prudentia’. You are sure of being, as early as your age will permit, a member of that House; which is the only road to figure and fortune in this country. Those, indeed, who are bred up to, and distinguish themselves in particular professions, as the army, the navy, and the law, may, by their own merit, raise themselves to a certain degree; but you may observe too, that they never get to the top, without the assistance of parliamentary talents and influence. The means of distinguishing yourself in parliament are, as I told you in my last, much more easily attained than I believe you imagine. Close attendance to the business of the House will soon give you the parliamentary routine; and strict attention to your style will soon make you, not only a speaker, but a good one. The vulgar look upon a man, who is reckoned a fine speaker, as a phenomenon, a supernatural being, and endowed with some peculiar gift of heaven; they stare at him, if he walks in the Park, and cry, THAT IS HE. You will, I am sure, view him in a juster light, and ‘nulla formidine’. You will consider him only as a man of good sense, who adorns common thoughts with the graces of elocution, and the elegance of style. The miracle will then cease; and you will be convinced, that with the same application, and attention to the same objects, you may most certainly equal, and perhaps surpass, this prodigy. Sir W——Y———-, with not a quarter of your parts, and not a thousandth part of your knowledge, has, by a glibness of tongue simply, raised him successively to the best employments of the kingdom; he has been Lord of the Admiralty, Lord of the Treasury, Secretary at War, and is now Vice-Treasurer of Ireland; and all this with a most sullied, not to say blasted character. Represent the thing to yourself, as it really is, easily attainable, and you will find it so. Have but ambition enough passionately to desire the object, and spirit enough to use the means, and I will be answerable for your success. When I was younger than you are, I resolved within myself that I would in all events be a speaker in parliament, and a good one too, if I could. I consequently never lost sight of that object, and never neglected any of the means that I thought led to it. I succeeded to a certain degree; and, I assure you, with great ease, and without superior talents. Young people are very apt to overrate both men and things, from not being enough acquainted with them. In proportion as you come to know them better, you will value them less. You will find that reason, which always ought to direct mankind, seldom does; but that passions and weaknesses commonly usurp its seat, and rule in its stead. You will find that the ablest have their weak sides too, and are only comparatively able, with regard to the still weaker herd: having fewer weaknesses themselves, they are able to avail themselves of the innumerable ones of the generality of mankind: being more masters of themselves, they become more easily masters of others. They address themselves to their weaknesses, their senses, their passions; never to their reason; and consequently seldom fail of success. But then analyze those great, those governing, and, as the vulgar imagine, those perfect characters, and you will find the great Brutus a thief in Macedonia, the great Cardinal Richelieu a jealous poetaster, and the great Duke of Marlborough a miser. Till you come to know mankind by your own experience, I know no thing, nor no man, that can in the meantime bring you so well acquainted with them as le Duc de la Rochefoucault: his little book of “Maxims,” which I would advise you to look into, for some moments at least, every day of your life, is, I fear, too like, and too exact a picture of human nature.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I can now truly apply your own motto to you, ‘Nullum numen abest, si sit Prudentia’. You will surely become a member of that House as soon as your age allows, which is the only path to recognition and success in this country. Those who are trained in and excel in certain professions like the army, the navy, or law can, through their own merit, rise to a certain level, but you’ll notice that they never reach the top without the help of parliamentary skills and influence. The ways to stand out in parliament are, as I mentioned in my last letter, much easier to achieve than you might think. Being consistently present at House sessions will quickly teach you the parliamentary process, and focusing on your style will soon make you not just a speaker, but a good one. The general public sees someone who is considered a great speaker as a rarity, almost like a supernatural being with a special gift. They’ll look at him in the Park and exclaim, THAT IS HE. I’m sure you’ll see him more realistically, and without any fear. You’ll recognize him simply as a person of common sense who enhances ordinary ideas with eloquence and elegant style. The mystery will then disappear, and you’ll realize that with the same dedication and focus, you can not only match but possibly exceed this wonder. Sir W——Y———-, with not even a fraction of your talents and hardly any of your knowledge, has, just through a smooth tongue, risen repeatedly to the highest positions in the kingdom; he has been Lord of the Admiralty, Lord of the Treasury, Secretary at War, and is now Vice-Treasurer of Ireland, all with a deeply tarnished character. Picture this clearly—it’s easily achievable, and you’ll see it that way. Just have enough ambition to passionately desire your goals and the determination to take action, and I guarantee you’ll succeed. When I was younger than you, I decided that regardless of circumstances, I would be a speaker in parliament, and a good one at that, if I could. I consistently kept that goal in mind and never neglected any means that I thought could lead to it. I achieved a certain level of success, and I assure you, with great ease, and without exceptional talent. Young people often overestimate both individuals and situations due to a lack of familiarity. As you learn more about them, you’ll appreciate them less. You’ll discover that reason, which should guide people, often doesn’t; instead, passions and weaknesses tend to take its place and rule instead. You’ll find that even the most capable have their flaws too and are only relatively able compared to a much weaker crowd: having fewer shortcomings, they can take advantage of the countless weaknesses of most people. Being more in control of themselves, they easily gain control over others. They appeal to their weaknesses, senses, and passions; never to their reason; and as a result, they often succeed. But then analyze those great, influential, supposedly perfect individuals, and you’ll find the great Brutus a thief in Macedonia, the great Cardinal Richelieu a jealous little poet, and the great Duke of Marlborough a miser. Until you gain your own experience with people, I know of nothing nor anyone that can help you understand them better than le Duc de la Rochefoucault: his little book of “Maxims,” which I advise you to read for at least a few minutes every day of your life, is unfortunately a strikingly accurate representation of human nature.
I own, it seems to degrade it; but yet my experience does not convince me that it degrades it unjustly.
I admit that it seems to lower its value; but my experience doesn’t convince me that it lowers it unfairly.
Now, to bring all this home to my first point. All these considerations should not only invite you to attempt to make a figure in parliament, but encourage you to hope that you shall succeed. To govern mankind, one must not overrate them: and to please an audience, as a speaker, one must not overvalue it. When I first came into the House of Commons, I respected that assembly as a venerable one; and felt a certain awe upon me, but, upon better acquaintance, that awe soon vanished; and I discovered, that, of the five hundred and sixty, not above thirty could understand reason, and that all the rest were ‘peuple’; that those thirty only required plain common sense, dressed up in good language; and that all the others only required flowing and harmonious periods, whether they conveyed any meaning or not; having ears to hear, but not sense enough to judge. These considerations made me speak with little concern the first time, with less the second, and with none at all the third. I gave myself no further trouble about anything, except my elocution, and my style; presuming, without much vanity, that I had common sense sufficient not to talk nonsense. Fix these three truths strongly in your mind: First, that it is absolutely necessary for you to speak in parliament; secondly, that it only requires a little human attention, and no supernatural gifts; and, thirdly, that you have all the reason in the world to think that you shall speak well. When we meet, this shall be the principal subject of our conversations; and, if you will follow my advice, I will answer for your success.
Now, to get to my main point. All these factors should not only encourage you to try to make a name for yourself in parliament but also give you hope that you will succeed. To lead people, you shouldn’t overestimate them; and to win over an audience, as a speaker, you shouldn’t overrate it. When I first entered the House of Commons, I held that assembly in high regard and felt a bit intimidated, but as I got to know it better, that intimidation quickly faded. I realized that out of the five hundred and sixty members, only about thirty could truly grasp reason, while the rest were just ‘the crowd’; those thirty only needed simple common sense expressed in good language, and the others just wanted well-crafted and pleasant phrases, regardless of whether they meant anything; they had ears to hear but lacked the judgment to understand. These insights made me speak with little concern the first time, even less the second, and not at all the third. I focused only on my delivery and style, believing, without much arrogance, that I had enough common sense not to say foolish things. Keep these three truths firmly in mind: First, it is essential for you to speak in parliament; second, it only requires a bit of human effort and no extraordinary talents; and third, you have every reason to think that you will speak well. When we meet, this will be our main topic of discussion; and if you follow my advice, I can assure you of your success.
Now from great things to little ones; the transition is to me easy, because nothing seems little to me that can be of any use to you. I hope you take great care of your mouth and teeth, and that you clean them well every morning with a sponge and tepid water, with a few drops of arquebusade water dropped into it; besides washing your mouth carefully after every meal, I do insist upon your never using those sticks, or any hard substance whatsoever, which always rub away the gums, and destroy the varnish of the teeth. I speak this from woeful experience; for my negligence of my teeth, when I was younger than you are, made them bad; and afterward, my desire to have them look better, made me use sticks, irons, etc., which totally destroyed them; so that I have not now above six or seven left. I lost one this morning, which suggested this advice to you.
Now moving from big things to small ones; this transition feels easy to me, because I don't see anything as too small if it can help you. I hope you take good care of your mouth and teeth and that you clean them well every morning with a sponge and warm water, adding a few drops of mouthwash. Also, be sure to rinse your mouth thoroughly after every meal. I strongly advise against using those sticks or any hard objects, as they can irritate your gums and damage the enamel on your teeth. I'm speaking from painful experience; my neglect of my teeth when I was younger than you led to problems, and later, in my effort to improve their appearance, I used sticks and metal tools that completely ruined them; now I have only about six or seven left. I lost one this morning, which prompted me to give you this advice.
I have received the tremendous wild boar, which your still more tremendous arm slew in the immense deserts of the Palatinate; but have not yet tasted of it, as it is hitherto above my low regimen. The late King of Prussia, whenever he killed any number of wild boars, used to oblige the Jews to buy them, at a high price, though they could eat none of them; so they defrayed the expense of his hunting. His son has juster rules of government, as the Code Frederick plainly shows.
I have received the incredible wild boar that your even more incredible strength took down in the vast deserts of the Palatinate; however, I haven't had a chance to taste it yet because it doesn't fit into my current diet. The late King of Prussia, whenever he hunted a bunch of wild boars, would force the Jews to buy them at a high price, even though they couldn't eat any of them; this helped cover his hunting expenses. His son follows fairer rules of governance, as the Code Frederick clearly demonstrates.
I hope, that, by this time, you are as well ‘ancre’ at Berlin as you was at Munich; but, if not, you are sure of being so at Dresden. Adieu.
I hope that by now you feel as settled in Berlin as you were in Munich; but if not, you can definitely count on feeling that way in Dresden. Goodbye.
LETTER CXCVII
LONDON, February 26, 1754.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received your letters of the 4th, from Munich, and of the 11th from Ratisbon; but I have not received that of the 31st January, to which you refer in the former. It is to this negligence and uncertainty of the post, that you owe your accidents between Munich and Ratisbon: for, had you received my letters regularly, you would have received one from me before you left Munich, in which I advised you to stay, since you were so well there. But, at all events, you were in the wrong to set out from Munich in such weather and such roads; since you could never imagine that I had set my heart so much upon your going to Berlin, as to venture your being buried in the snow for it. Upon the whole, considering all you are very well off. You do very well, in my mind, to return to Munich, or at least to keep within the circle of Munich, Ratisbon, and Manheim, till the weather and the roads are good: stay at each or any of those places as long as ever you please; for I am extremely indifferent about your going to Berlin.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received your letters dated the 4th from Munich and the 11th from Ratisbon; however, I haven't gotten your letter from January 31st, which you mentioned in the first one. The delays and uncertainties of the post are to blame for your troubles between Munich and Ratisbon. If you had received my letters on time, you would have seen one from me before you left Munich, where I advised you to stay since you were doing so well there. But really, it was a mistake to leave Munich with such bad weather and roads; you could never have thought that I was so keen on you going to Berlin that I’d want you to risk getting buried in the snow for it. Overall, considering everything, you're doing quite well. I believe it's a good idea for you to return to Munich, or at least stay somewhere within the area of Munich, Ratisbon, and Manheim until the weather and roads improve. Feel free to stay in any of those places for as long as you like; I really don’t mind whether you go to Berlin or not.
As to our meeting, I will tell you my plan, and you may form your own accordingly. I propose setting out from hence the last week in April, then drinking the Aix-la-Chapelle waters for a week, and from thence being at Spa about the 15th of May, where I shall stay two months at most, and then return straight to England. As I both hope and believe that there will be no mortal at Spa during my residence there, the fashionable season not beginning till the middle of July, I would by no means have you come there at first, to be locked up with me and some few Capucins, for two months, in that miserable hole; but I would advise you to stay where you like best, till about the first week in July, and then to come and pick me up at Spa, or meet me upon the road at Liege or Brussels. As for the intermediate time, should you be weary of Manheim and Munich, you may, if you please, go to Dresden, to Sir Charles Williams, who will be there before that time; or you may come for a month or six weeks to The Hague; or, in short, go or stay wherever you like best. So much for your motions.
Regarding our meeting, I’ll share my plan, and you can make your own arrangements accordingly. I propose leaving here in the last week of April, then drinking the Aix-la-Chapelle waters for a week, and from there arriving at Spa around May 15th, where I’ll stay for no more than two months before heading straight back to England. I hope and believe there won’t be anyone at Spa during my stay since the fashionable season doesn’t start until mid-July, so I definitely wouldn’t want you to come there at first, stuck with me and a few monks for two months in that dreary place. I suggest you stay wherever you prefer until about the first week of July, then come and pick me up at Spa or meet me along the way in Liège or Brussels. As for the time in between, if you get tired of Mannheim and Munich, you can go to Dresden to see Sir Charles Williams, who will be there by then; or you can visit The Hague for a month or six weeks; or, really, go or stay wherever suits you best. That’s all about your plans.
As you have sent for all the letters directed to you at Berlin, you will receive from thence volumes of mine, among which you will easily perceive that some were calculated for a supposed perusal previous to your opening them. I will not repeat anything contained in them, excepting that I desire you will send me a warm and cordial letter of thanks for Mr. Eliot; who has, in the most friendly manner imaginable, fixed you at his own borough of Liskeard, where you will be elected jointly with him, without the least opposition or difficulty. I will forward that letter to him into Cornwall, where he now is.
Since you've requested all the letters sent to you in Berlin, you'll receive several volumes from me. You'll easily notice that some of them were meant for you to read before you opened them. I won't go over anything in them again, but I do ask that you send me a warm and heartfelt thank-you note for Mr. Eliot. He has kindly arranged for you to be elected in his borough of Liskeard, where you'll win without any opposition or trouble. I’ll send that letter to him in Cornwall, where he is currently.
Now that you are to be soon a man of business, I heartily wish that you would immediately begin to be a man of method; nothing contributing more to facilitate and dispatch business, than method and order. Have order and method in your accounts, in your reading, in the allotment of your time; in short, in everything. You cannot conceive how much time you will save by it, nor how much better everything you do will be done. The Duke of Marlborough did by no means spend, but he slatterned himself into that immense debt, which is not yet near paid off. The hurry and confusion of the Duke of Newcastle do not proceed from his business, but from his want of method in it. Sir Robert Walpole, who had ten times the business to do, was never seen in a hurry, because he always did it with method. The head of a man who has business, and no method nor order, is properly that ‘rudis indigestaque moles quam dixere chaos’. As you must be conscious that you are extremely negligent and slatternly, I hope you will resolve not to be so for the future. Prevail with yourself, only to observe good method and order for one fortnight; and I will venture to assure you that you will never neglect them afterward, you will find such conveniency and advantage arising from them. Method is the great advantage that lawyers have over other people, in speaking in parliament; for, as they must necessarily observe it in their pleadings in the courts of justice, it becomes habitual to them everywhere else. Without making you a compliment, I can tell you with pleasure, that order, method, and more activity of mind, are all that you want, to make, some day or other, a considerable figure in business. You have more useful knowledge, more discernment of characters, and much more discretion, than is common at your age; much more, I am sure, than I had at that age. Experience you cannot yet have, and therefore trust in the meantime to mine. I am an old traveler; am well acquainted with all the bye as well as the great roads; I cannot misguide you from ignorance, and you are very sure I shall not from design.
Now that you're about to become a businessman, I really hope you'll start being more organized. Nothing helps business-related tasks go smoother and faster than having a system in place. Keep your accounts, your reading, and how you manage your time structured; basically, maintain order in everything. You can't imagine how much time you'll save by doing this, or how much better the work you do will turn out. The Duke of Marlborough didn't just spend; he got himself into an enormous debt that’s still not fully paid off. The chaos of the Duke of Newcastle comes not from his workload but from his lack of organization. Sir Robert Walpole, who had ten times the work, was never seen rushing because he always approached it methodically. A person overwhelmed by business without a system is like that ‘confused and unordered mass they called chaos.’ Since you must realize that you've been quite careless and disorganized, I hope you’ll decide to change that moving forward. Challenge yourself to stick to a good system for just two weeks, and I'm sure you'll find it so helpful that you'll never ignore it again. Being organized is a significant advantage that lawyers have over others when speaking in parliament; because they have to be structured in their legal arguments, it becomes second nature to them elsewhere. Without flattering you, I can confidently say that order, method, and a bit more mental agility are all you need to make a name for yourself in business one day. You have more useful knowledge, better judgment of people, and far more discretion than is typical for someone your age—way more than I did at your age. You may lack experience right now, so trust mine for the time being. I’m an old traveler, familiar with both the minor paths and the major ones; I won't mislead you out of ignorance, and I assure you I won't do so intentionally.
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 can assure you that you won’t have a chance to call yourself my Excellency’s, etc. A few years ago, I chose retirement and peace when I was still in good health and spirits to handle business; but now that I've lost my hearing and my health is declining, they have become my necessary and only refuge. I know myself (and that's no common insight, let me tell you); I understand what I can and can't do, and therefore what I should do. I shouldn’t, and won’t, return to business when I’m much less capable than when I left it. Even less will I go to Ireland, where, due to my deafness and frailness, I would inevitably present myself in a way that’s vastly different from how I used to. My pride would be too hurt by that difference. The two essential senses of seeing and hearing should not only be functioning but sharp in business; and the role of a Lord Lieutenant of Ireland (if he is to do it himself) requires both of those senses at their best. The confusion in Ireland was caused by the Duke of Dorset not managing the business himself but handing it off to favorites. My administration was smooth and quiet because I handled everything myself, without any favorites, ministers, or mistresses. I remember when I appointed the late Mr. Liddel as my Secretary, everyone was quite surprised. Some of my friends pointed out that he wasn’t a man of business, just a charming, good-looking young guy. I assured them, and it was true, that was exactly why I chose him; I intended to do all the work myself, without the implication of having a minister, which a Lord Lieutenant’s Secretary is often assumed to be if he’s a man of business. Moreover, I see myself now as retired from business after nearly forty years in it; I'm handing it over to you. Devote yourself to it as I did for forty years, and then I’ll agree to your stepping away for a peaceful retirement among your friends and books. Statesmen and beauties rarely notice the gradual decline of their abilities; and too often, hoping to continue shining at their peak, they end up being dismissed with contempt and ridicule. I left at the right time, as the saying goes, “for the full meal;” or, as Pope puts it even better, “ERE TITTERING YOUTH SHALL SHOVE YOU FROM THE STAGE.” My only remaining ambition is to be your advisor and supporter as you rise. Let me see my youth come alive in you; allow me to be your Mentor, and with your talents and knowledge, I promise you’ll go far. You need to bring your own energy and focus, and I’ll show you the right areas to apply them. I confess I fear just one thing for you, which is usually the least concerning for someone your age: your tendency to laziness, which, if you indulge it, will keep you stagnant in a dismal obscurity throughout your life. It will prevent you from accomplishing anything worth writing about, or from writing anything worth reading; and yet one of those two goals should at least be aimed for by every rational person.
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 see laziness as a kind of suicide; the person is essentially destroyed, even though their basic instincts might still be there. Being busy doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself; in fact, they enhance each other. I can confidently say that no one enjoys either pleasure or work to the fullest unless they engage in both. They stimulate a desire for each other. So, make it a habit to be attentive and hardworking with your small tasks; don’t procrastinate, and don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today; and focus on one thing at a time. Pursue your goals, whatever they may be, with determination and persistence; let any challenges (if they can be overcome) motivate you rather than hold you back. Consistency leads to amazing results.
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.
I wish you would take some time each day to translate just three or four lines from any book in any language into the best and most elegant English you can think of; you can’t imagine how much it will quietly shape your style and give you a natural elegance. It would only take you about fifteen minutes a day. This letter is so long that it probably won’t leave you that fifteen minutes on the day you get 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.
MY DEAR FRIEND: A major and unexpected event has recently occurred in our political world. Mr. Pelham died last Monday from a fever and infection caused by a general breakdown of his blood, which had resulted in sores on his back. I mourn his passing as an old acquaintance, a close relative, and a private person with whom I’ve spent many years in a friendly and social way. He had good intentions for the public and was honest in a position where dishonesty is often widespread. While he may not have been a flashy, ambitious minister, I prefer a steady one. Very flashy ministers, like the sun, tend to scorch when they shine the brightest; in our system, I favor the softer light of a less showy minister. His successor is not yet, at least publicly, designated. You can easily imagine that many are eager for the position, but very few are qualified to fill it. Different people are suggested by various sources based on their interests or guesses. Mr. Fox is the most talked about; he has strong backing from the Duke of Cumberland. Mr. Legge, the Solicitor-General, and Dr. Lee are also mentioned, based on the interests of the Duke of Newcastle and the Chancellor. If one of the last three is chosen, I don’t expect many significant changes; however, if Mr. Fox wins, it could lead to changes that aren’t favorable for the Duke of Newcastle. In the meantime, the wild speculations of amateur politicians and the ridiculous sense of importance that fools often try to give themselves with serious expressions, meaningful shrugs, and meaningless whispers are quite entertaining for a bystander like me, thank God. One person claims to know something but can’t share it; another has heard something from a reliable source; a third thinks he has a close relationship with all the candidates, even if he’s maybe only spoken twice to any of them. In short, during these times, vanity, self-interest, and absurdity are often displayed in the most ridiculous way. Having been behind the scenes for so long, I find much more amusement in this spectacle than those who only view it from the audience. I understand the entire workings of the behind-the-scenes drama and can better appreciate the silly astonishment and wild speculations of the uninformed onlookers. I believe this incident won’t impact your election at all, which is already settled with your friend Mr. Eliot. Because, regardless of who wins, I assume that he will understand enough not to disrupt an arrangement like that, in which he has no personal stake. So, please continue with your parliamentary preparations. Keep that goal in mind, and pursue it with determination.
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 assume that your recent time in Germany has made you just as fluent and polished in German as you were in French, and it’s definitely worth your effort to be that way. It benefits everyone to be completely proficient in any language they might need to use. A person isn’t fully themselves in a language they don’t really know; their thoughts lose value when expressed awkwardly or imperfectly. They feel restricted and limited, which means they can never truly shine. Take a close look at the thoughts that stand out to you, whether in conversations or in books, and you’ll realize that at least half of their value comes from how they’re presented. There’s a lot of truth in the old saying, ‘Nihil dictum quod non prins dictum.’ It’s really the way something is said or written that makes it feel fresh. Remind yourself that presentation is nearly everything in all situations, and make it a point to study it.
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.
I’ve just been informed, and I genuinely believe, that Mr. Fox—[Henry Fox, created Lord Holland, Baron of Foxley, in 1763]—is set to take over from Mr. Pelham as the First Commissioner of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer; and your acquaintance, Mr. Yorke from The Hague, will replace Mr. Fox as Secretary at War. I’m not displeased with Mr. Fox’s promotion, as I’ve always gotten along well with him, and he’s been willing to help me with small favors. He’s straightforward and gentlemanly in his behavior, and to some extent, I truly believe he will be your ally because of me; if you can later win him over for yourself, even better. I have nothing more to say for now, so goodbye.
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.
MY DEAR FRIEND: We are currently in the middle of a second winter; the cold is harsher, and the snow is deeper than it was the first time. I assume the weather in Germany isn't much better, so I hope you're settled comfortably in a nice town and not risking another snow burial after your recent lucky escape from one. I assume your letters haven’t been able to get through the ice because I haven’t received any from you since the one dated February 12th from Ratisbon. I’m more anxious about this lack of news because I worry that you might have encountered some problems after your accident that you weren’t aware of initially.
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.
The political scene was partially revealed the day before yesterday, showing a situation that most people didn’t expect. The Duke of Newcastle was appointed First Lord Commissioner of the Treasury, Mr. Fox became Secretary of State in his place, and Mr. Henry Legge took on the role of Chancellor of the Exchequer. The positions of Treasurer of the Navy and Secretary at War, which were thought to be open due to Mr. Fox and Mr. Legge’s promotions, were to be kept under wraps until this Parliament was dissolved, likely next week, to avoid the costs and hassle of unnecessary re-elections. However, it was widely believed that Colonel Yorke from The Hague would replace Mr. Fox, and George Greenville would take over for Mr. Legge. If this plan had gone through, as you probably know, it was more about a temporary solution to secure the new Parliament’s elections and shaping it at its first meeting to align with the interests of the Duke of Newcastle and the Chancellor, rather than a lasting administrative plan. This plan was disrupted yesterday: Mr. Fox, who had reluctantly accepted his new role the day before, more reluctantly rejected it yesterday. His goal was to be First Commissioner of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer, giving him a say in the election of the new Parliament and a much larger role in its management once elected. This goal, unfortunately, undermined his own plans. The Duke of Newcastle and the Chancellor chose to elevate him to Secretary of State instead, opting not to trust him with either the election or the management of the new Parliament. Considering their positions, their decision was certainly wise; however, whether Mr. Fox made the right choice in refusing the role is unclear to me. If he is, as I suspect, motivated by revenge and wouldn’t hesitate to satisfy that revenge by any means, I would think he could achieve it better as Secretary of State, with regular access to the inner circle, rather than as a private citizen leading an opposition. But I see these matters from too far away to judge them accurately. The true motivations and forces behind political actions are kept within a very tight circle and known to very few; the good reasons put forth are rarely the true ones. The public often misjudges, or rather guesses wrongly, and I am now part of that public. So, I suggest you approach all state matters with a prudent skepticism until you find yourself in the inner workings and thus familiar with at least the overall dynamics; as for all the intricate details and secret motivations that contribute to the larger system, no one knows them all, not even the one who controls it the most. Much like the human body, which has countless small vessels and glands that play significant roles yet evade the most skilled anatomist’s knowledge; he will know more than those who can only see the surface of our bodies, but he will never know everything. This commotion and these changes at court, far from disrupting the peace and security of your election, have actually, if anything, strengthened them; for the Duke of Newcastle (I have to give him credit) has, in the kindest way possible, written to Mr. Eliot, urging him to take great care with 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.
Even though the administration plan isn't settled yet, I’ve finalized my travel plans for this summer and want to share them with you so you can make your own arrangements. I plan to be in Spa from May 10th or 12th until July 10th. Since there won’t be anyone else around during my stay, it wouldn’t be enjoyable or worthwhile for you to be alone with me the entire time; therefore, I think it’s best for you to join me in the last week of June. In the meantime, I assume that by mid-April, you’ll feel you’ve spent enough time in Manheim, Munich, or Ratisbon. Where would you like to go then? I’m leaving the choice completely up to you. Would you want to head to Dresden for a month or six weeks? That’ll be quite a detour, and I’m not sure if Sir Charles will be there by then. Or would you prefer to stop in Bonn and spend some time there until we meet in The Hague? From Manheim, you could get a lot of good recommendations for the court in Bonn, which and its Elector are definitely worth your visit.
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.
From there, your trip to The Hague will be quick, and you'll arrive at a time of year when I think The Hague is the most pleasant, cheerful place in Europe. From The Hague, it’s just a short, three-day journey to me at Spa. Do as you wish; as I mentioned before, 'Ella e assolutamente padrone.' But just in case you say you want me to decide for you, I’ll share my thoughts. I’m leaning towards the idea of you coming to Bonn, staying as long as you like, and then spending the rest of your time in May and June at The Hague. Our connections and dealings with the Republic of the United Provinces are such that it's important for you to be familiar with their government and people. You've made good friends there, and you've been noticed by the foreign ministers, so you'll be well-known there. Plus, you haven't yet met the Stadtholder, the ‘Gouvernante,’ or seen the court, which you really should. Overall, I believe you can't spend May and June in a more enjoyable or useful way than at The Hague. However, if you have another plan that you prefer, go for it. Just let me know what you decide, and I’ll be happy to go along with 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.
The parliament will be dissolved in about ten days, and the notices for the election of the new one will be issued immediately afterward; so, by the end of next month, you can expect to be a 'Member of the House of Commons'; a title that sounds impressive in foreign countries, and maybe even more than it deserves. I hope you will earn a better title in your own right, meaning that of a good speaker in parliament: I'm sure you have all the necessary skills if you just put them together and enhance them. I spoke in parliament the first month I was there, and a month before I turned 18; from the day I was elected, until the day I spoke, I thought about nothing but speaking. To be honest, I didn’t do very well the first time, but it went okay thanks to the enthusiasm with which I spoke and the way I expressed my thoughts. I got better over time, until I did fairly well in the end. The House is usually very forgiving of a young speaker's first few attempts; if they notice any common sense in what he says, they make plenty of allowances for his lack of experience and the nervousness they assume he must feel. I benefited from that leniency; because if I hadn't been a young member, I would have definitely been reprimanded by the House for some strong and careless things I said. Goodbye! It really is 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’.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday, I got your letter dated the 15th from Manheim, where I see you’ve been welcomed in the usual gracious way; I hope you respond with equal grace. Since this is a time of great devotion and solemnity in all Catholic countries, please make sure to familiarize yourself with and pay attention to all their silly and pompous church ceremonies; it’s good to know them. I'm really glad you wrote to Lord———, which, in any circumstance you could imagine, was a decent and sensible choice. It will be hard for you to convince me, whenever we meet, that you had any valid reasons not to do it; for the sake of argument, I’ll assume, though I don’t actually believe it, that he has done and said the worst he could about you. So what? How will you help yourself? Are you in a position to hurt him? Definitely not; but he is certainly in a position to hurt you. Would you respond with sulky, powerless resentment? I hope not; leave that childish, ineffective kind of resentment to women and men like them, who are often guided by emotions rather than reason and wisdom. That pouty behavior is way too immature and shows too little understanding of the world for someone like you, who has seen so much of it. Let this be a constant rule in your conduct—never show even the slightest sign of resentment that you can’t somehow act upon; always smile where you can’t strike back. Life in courts, and in the world in general, wouldn’t be bearable if we couldn’t hide, and even disguise, the legitimate reasons for resentment we face every day in our busy lives. Anyone who can’t control their temperament enough to "keep a good face in a bad game" should leave society and retreat to some secluded desert. By showing ineffective and sulky resentment, you actually empower those who can harm you, and whom you can’t hurt; you give them the very pretext they may have been looking for to break with you and cause you harm. In contrast, behaving differently would at least force them to adhere to some standards of decency, and would either restrain or reveal their malice. Besides, being petulant, sullen, and pouty is incredibly low-class and uncouth. "A decent person doesn’t know those behaviors."
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’m really excited to hear that Voltaire will be at Manheim soon. Once he arrives, please send him my best compliments. I admire him greatly, and whether as an epic, dramatic, or lyric poet, or prose writer, I think it’s perfectly fitting to say ‘Nil molitur inepte’ about him. I can’t wait to read his own updated edition of ‘Les Annales de l’Empire’, which I assume the ‘Abrege Chronologique de l’Histoire Universelle’ that I’ve read is a stolen and incomplete part of. Even though it’s imperfect, it has clarified that chaos of seven hundred years of history better than any other book I’ve seen. You’re absolutely right that I love ‘le style le r et fleuri’. I do, and so does everyone with any sense and taste. It should, I admit, be more or less ‘fleuri’, depending on the topic; however, I still believe there’s no subject that shouldn’t be enhanced with a certain elegance and beauty of style. What could be more embellished than Cicero’s philosophical works? Or Plato’s? It’s their eloquence that has kept them alive through the centuries; their philosophy isn’t great, and their reasoning is weak. But eloquence will always be enjoyable and has always been appreciated. So study it; make it your focus and passion. Train yourself to express ideas elegantly—this is a great step towards speaking well in parliament. Take a political topic, think it through, weigh the arguments for and against, and then write those arguments down in the most correct and elegant English you can muster. For example, you could consider a standing army or a place bill. Regarding the former, think about the dangers a large military poses to a free country, while also considering the necessity of force to defend against force. Look into whether a standing army, even if it’s an evil in itself, might become a necessary evil that prevents greater dangers depending on the situation. On the latter, think about how positions might influence individuals away from serving their country into unnecessary flattery toward the court; conversely, consider whether such positions would really affect the actions of honorable individuals who care more about the long-term welfare of their country than about an uncertain and risky job. Seek out and contemplate all the arguments on both sides and jot them down in a polished style. This will prepare you for debate and give you a natural eloquence; I wouldn’t place any value on superficial eloquence shown once or twice a session in a pre-set speech. I want an everyday, ready, and habitual eloquence to enhance spontaneous speeches and debates; to make discussions not just clear but enjoyable, even for those who might not wish to be informed. You can achieve all this and make it second nature to you with as little effort as it takes to dance a minuet as well as you do. You now dance it automatically and well without needing to think about 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.
I’m surprised that you found only one letter for me at Manheim, because you should have found four or five. There are just as many waiting for you at your bank in Berlin, and I wish you had those too, since I always tried to include something in them that I hope will be helpful 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.
When we meet at Spa next July, we need to have a lot of serious conversations; I'll share all my life experiences, and I hope you'll trust my insights more than your own youthful ideas about people and the world. Over time, you'll realize that many of those ideas are wrong; and if you hold onto them for too long, you'll see your mistake when it's too late. But if you let yourself be guided by someone who genuinely wants to help you, you'll combine two qualities that are rarely found together in one person: the energy and enthusiasm of youth with the carefulness and wisdom 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.
Last Saturday, Sir Thomas Robinson, who was the King’s Minister in Vienna, was appointed Secretary of State for the southern department, while Lord Holderness took the northern one. Sir Thomas accepted the position reluctantly, and I’ve heard he’s promised he won’t hold it for long. His health and spirits are poor, which are two major drawbacks for that role; I hope yours will allow you to eventually succeed. In any case, go for it, and if you don’t succeed or stumble, at least let it be said of you, ‘Magnis tamen excidit ausis’. Goodbye.
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.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter dated March 20th from Manheim yesterday, along with the enclosed note for Mr. Eliot; it was quite appropriate, and I’ve sent it to him with Mr. Harte, who is leaving for Cornwall tomorrow morning.
I am very glad that you use yourself to translations; and I do not care of what, provided you study the correctness and elegance of your style. The “Life of Sextus Quintus” is the best book of the innumerable books written by Gregorio Leti, whom the Italians, very justly, call ‘Leti caca libro’. But I would rather that you chose some pieces of oratory for your translations, whether ancient or modern, Latin or French, which would give you a more oratorical train of thoughts and turn of expression. In your letter to me you make use of two words, which though true and correct English, are, however, from long disuse, become inelegant, and seem now to be stiff, formal, and in some degree scriptural; the first is the word NAMELY, which you introduce thus, YOU INFORM ME OF A VERY AGREEABLE PIECE OF NEWS, namely, THAT MY ELECTION IS SECURED. Instead of NAMELY, I would always use WHICH IS, or THAT IS, that my-election is secured. The other word is, MINE OWN INCLINATIONS: this is certainly correct before a subsequent word that begins with a vowel; but it is too correct, and is now disused as too formal, notwithstanding the hiatus occasioned by MY OWN. Every language has its peculiarities; they are established by usage, and whether right or wrong, they must be complied with. I could instance many very absurd ones in different languages; but so authorized by the ‘jus et norma loquendi’, that they must be submitted to. NAMELY, and TO WIT, are very good words in themselves, and contribute to clearness more than the relatives which we now substitute in their room; but, however, they cannot be used, except in a sermon or some very grave and formal compositions. It is with language as with manners they are both established by the usage of people of fashion; it must be imitated, it must be complied with. Singularity is only pardonable in old age and retirement; I may now be as singular as I please, but you may not. We will, when we meet, discuss these and many other points, provided you will give me attention and credit; without both which it is to no purpose to advise either you or anybody else.
I’m really happy that you’re getting into translations; and I don’t mind which ones you choose, as long as you focus on making your style accurate and elegant. The “Life of Sextus Quintus” is the best among the countless books written by Gregorio Leti, whom Italians rightly call 'Leti caca libro.' However, I would prefer it if you selected some pieces of oratory for your translations, whether they are ancient or modern, Latin or French, as they would help refine your thoughts and expressions. In your letter to me, you use two words that, while accurate in English, have become somewhat outdated and sound stiff, formal, and somewhat scriptural; the first is the word NAMELY, which you introduce like this: YOU INFORM ME OF A VERY AGREEABLE PIECE OF NEWS, namely, THAT MY ELECTION IS SECURED. Instead of NAMELY, I would always say WHICH IS, or THAT IS, that my election is secured. The other phrase is MINE OWN INCLINATIONS: while this is correct before a word starting with a vowel, it feels overly formal and is now rarely used, despite the awkwardness caused by MY OWN. Every language has its quirks; they’re set by usage, and whether right or wrong, they should be followed. I could point out many absurdities in various languages; but since they’re accepted by the 'jus et norma loquendi', they must be adhered to. NAMELY and TO WIT are perfectly good words in themselves and add clarity more than the substitutes we now use; however, they should only be employed in sermons or very serious formal writing. Language, like manners, is shaped by the habits of fashionable people; it needs to be imitated and complied with. Being unique is only acceptable in old age or retirement; I can be as unconventional as I want now, but you cannot. When we meet, we can discuss these and many other topics, provided you pay attention and trust me; without both, it’s pointless to advise you or anyone else.
I want to know your determination, where you intend to (if I may use that expression) WHILE away your time till the last week in June, when we are to meet at Spa; I continue rather in the opinion which I mentioned to you formerly, in favor of The Hague; but however, I have not the least objection to Dresden, or to any other place that you may like better. If you prefer the Dutch scheme, you take Treves and Coblentz in your way, as also Dusseldorp: all which places I think you have not yet seen. At Manheim you may certainly get good letters of recommendation to the courts of the two Electors of Treves and Cologne, whom you are yet unacquainted with; and I should wish you to know them all; for, as I have often told you, ‘olim haec meminisse juvabit’. There is an utility in having seen what other people have seen, and there is a justifiable pride in having seen what others have not seen. In the former case, you are equal to others; in the latter, superior. As your stay abroad will not now be very long, pray, while it lasts, see everything and everybody you can, and see them well, with care and attention. It is not to be conceived of what advantage it is to anybody to have seen more things, people, and countries, than other people in general have; it gives them a credit, makes them referred to, and they become the objects of the attention of the company. They are not out in any part of polite conversation; they are acquainted with all the places, customs, courts, and families that are likely to be mentioned; they are, as Monsieur de Maupertuis justly observes, ‘de tous les pays, comme les savans, sont de tous les tems’. You have, fortunately, both those advantages: the only remaining point is ‘de savoir les faire valoir’, for without that one may as well not have them. Remember that very true maxim of La Bruyere’s, ‘Qu’on ne vaut dans se monde que ce qu’on veut valoir’. The knowledge of the world will teach you to what degree you ought to show ‘que vous valez’. One must by no means, on one hand, be indifferent about it; as, on the other, one must not display it with affectation, and in an overbearing manner, but, of the two, it is better to show too much than too little. Adieu.
I want to know your plans for how you intend to spend your time until the last week in June when we meet at Spa. I still lean towards The Hague, as I mentioned before, but I have no problem with Dresden or any other place you prefer. If you go with the Dutch option, you should visit Treves and Coblentz, as well as Dusseldorf, which I think you haven't seen yet. In Mannheim, you can definitely get good letters of recommendation to the courts of the two Electors of Treves and Cologne, whom you don’t know yet; I'd like you to get to know them all because, as I’ve often said, ‘one day it will be nice to remember these things.’ There’s real value in having seen what others have seen, and there's justified pride in having experienced what others haven’t. In the first case, you fit in with others; in the second, you stand out. Since your time abroad won’t be very long, I encourage you to see everything and everyone you can while you’re there, and to do so thoroughly and thoughtfully. It’s hard to overstate how beneficial it is for someone to have seen more than most people; it earns them respect, makes them sought after, and draws attention in social situations. They’re well-rounded in polite conversation, familiar with all the places, customs, courts, and families likely to come up; as Monsieur de Maupertuis wisely points out, ‘those from all countries, like scholars, are from all times.’ You already have both those advantages; the only thing left is to know how to make them work for you because without that, it’s almost as if you don’t have them at all. Keep in mind La Bruyère’s insightful saying, ‘You are only worth what you claim to be worth in this world.’ Understanding the world will teach you how much to show your worth. You should never be indifferent to it, on the one hand; on the other hand, avoid being pompous and overbearing. Between the two extremes, it’s better to show too much than too little. Goodbye.
LETTER CCII
BATH, November 27, 1754
MY DEAR FRIEND: I heartily congratulate you upon the loss of your political maidenhead, of which I have received from others a very good account. I hear that you were stopped for some time in your career; but recovered breath, and finished it very well. I am not surprised, nor indeed concerned, at your accident; for I remember the dreadful feeling of that situation in myself; and as it must require a most uncommon share of impudence to be unconcerned upon such an occasion, I am not sure that I am not rather glad you stopped. You must therefore now think of hardening yourself by degrees, by using yourself insensibly to the sound of your own voice, and to the act (trifling as it seems) of rising up and sitting down. Nothing will contribute so much to this as committee work of elections at night, and of private bills in the morning. There, asking short questions, moving for witnesses to be called in, and all that kind of small ware, will soon fit you to set up for yourself. I am told that you are much mortified at your accident, but without reason; pray, let it rather be a spur than a curb to you. Persevere, and, depend upon it, it will do well at last. When I say persevere, I do not mean that you should speak every day, nor in every debate. Moreover, I would not advise you to speak again upon public matters for some time, perhaps a month or two; but I mean, never lose view of that great object; pursue it with discretion, but pursue it always. ‘Pelotez en attendant partie’. You know I have always told you that speaking in public was but a knack, which those who apply to the most will succeed in the best. Two old members, very good judges, have sent me compliments upon this occasion; and have assured me that they plainly find it will do; though they perceived, from that natural confusion you were in, that you neither said all, nor perhaps what you intended. Upon the whole, you have set out very well, and have sufficient encouragement to go on. Attend; therefore, assiduously, and observe carefully all that passes in the House; for it is only knowledge and experience that can make a debater. But if you still want comfort, Mrs.———-I hope, will administer it to you; for, in my opinion she may, if she will, be very comfortable; and with women, as with speaking in parliament, perseverance will most certainly prevail sooner or later.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I wholeheartedly congratulate you on losing your political virginity, about which I've heard only good things from others. I understand that you faced some hurdles early on, but you caught your breath and wrapped it up quite well. I'm not surprised, nor particularly worried, about your experience; I remember the awful feeling of being in that position myself, and it takes a remarkable level of boldness to remain unfazed in such moments. So, I can’t say I’m unhappy you stumbled. You should now focus on gradually toughening yourself up by getting used to the sound of your own voice and the simple act (as trivial as it seems) of standing up and sitting down. Nothing will help with this more than doing committee work for elections at night and private bills in the morning. There, asking brief questions, calling in witnesses, and dealing with that kind of minor stuff will quickly prepare you to advocate for yourself. I've heard you’re quite upset about your mishap, but that’s without reason; let it motivate you rather than hold you back. Keep at it, and trust me, it will work out in the end. When I say keep at it, I don’t mean you should speak every day or in every debate. In fact, I wouldn’t recommend you speak about public matters again for a little while, perhaps a month or two; but don’t lose sight of that important goal; pursue it wisely, but pursue it always. "Keep practicing while waiting for the main event." You know I've always said that public speaking is just a skill, and those who practice the most will succeed the best. Two experienced members—who are very good judges—have sent me their compliments on this occasion and assured me that they can clearly see you can do it, even though they noticed, due to your natural nervousness, that you didn’t say everything you wanted to. Overall, you've started off really well and have enough encouragement to keep going. So, pay close attention and carefully observe everything that happens in the House, because only knowledge and experience can make a good debater. But if you're still looking for comfort, Mrs.———- I hope will provide it for you; I believe she can be very comforting if she chooses, and with women, just like with public speaking, perseverance will definitely pay off sooner or later.
What little I have played for here, I have won; but that is very far from the considerable sum which you heard of. I play every evening, from seven till ten, at a crown whist party, merely to save my eyes from reading or writing for three hours by candle-light. I propose being in town the week after next, and hope to carry back with me much more health than I brought down here. Good-night.
What little I've played for here, I've won; but that's nowhere near the substantial amount you heard about. I play every evening from seven to ten at a crown whist party, just to avoid reading or writing for three hours by candlelight. I'm planning to be in town the week after next, and I hope to bring back much better health than I had when I came down here. Good night.
[Mr. Stanhope being returned to England, and seeing his father almost every day, is the occasion of an interruption of two years in their correspondence.]
[Mr. Stanhope returned to England and started seeing his father almost every day, which caused a break in their correspondence lasting two years.]
1756-1758
LETTER CCIII
LETTER 203
BATH, November 15, 1756
BATH, November 15, 1756
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yours yesterday morning together with the Prussian, papers, which I have read with great attention. If courts could blush, those of Vienna and Dresden ought, to have their falsehoods so publicly, and so undeniably exposed. The former will, I presume, next year, employ an hundred thousand men, to answer the accusation; and if the Empress of the two Russias is pleased to argue in the same cogent manner, their logic will be too strong for all the King of Prussia’s rhetoric. I well remember the treaty so often referred to in those pieces, between the two Empresses, in 1746. The King was strongly pressed by the Empress Queen to accede to it. Wassenaer communicated it to me for that purpose. I asked him if there were no secret articles; suspecting that there were some, because the ostensible treaty was a mere harmless, defensive one. He assured me that there were none. Upon which I told him, that as the King had already defensive alliances with those two Empresses, I did not see of what use his accession to this treaty, if merely a defensive one, could be, either to himself or the other contracting parties; but that, however, if it was only desired as an indication of the King’s good will, I would give him an act by which his Majesty should accede to that treaty, as far, but no further, as at present he stood engaged to the respective Empresses by the defensive alliances subsisting with each. This offer by no means satisfied him; which was a plain proof of the secret articles now brought to light, and into which the court of Vienna hoped to draw us. I told Wassenaer so, and after that I heard no more of his invitation.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I got your letter yesterday morning along with the Prussian papers, which I read very carefully. If courts could blush, the ones in Vienna and Dresden should be embarrassed for having their lies exposed so publicly and undeniably. I assume that next year, they will mobilize one hundred thousand men to counter the charges; and if the Empress of both Russias argues as convincingly, their logic will overshadow all the King of Prussia’s rhetoric. I clearly remember the treaty that keeps being mentioned in those articles, between the two Empresses, from 1746. The King was strongly urged by the Empress Queen to agree to it. Wassenaer sent it to me for that reason. I asked him if there were any secret articles, suspecting there might be some because the public treaty was simply a harmless, defensive one. He assured me there weren’t any. So I told him that since the King already had defensive alliances with those two Empresses, I didn’t see how his agreement to this treaty, if it was just a defensive one, could benefit him or the other parties involved; however, if it was only needed as a sign of the King’s goodwill, I would provide him with a document stating that his Majesty would agree to that treaty, as far as he was currently obligated to the respective Empresses through the existing defensive alliances. This offer didn’t satisfy him at all, which was a clear indication of the secret articles now revealed, into which the court of Vienna hoped to entice us. I mentioned this to Wassenaer, and after that, I didn’t hear anything more about his invitation.
I am still bewildered in the changes at Court, of which I find that all the particulars are not yet fixed. Who would have thought, a year ago, that Mr. Fox, the Chancellor, and the Duke of Newcastle, should all three have quitted together? Nor can I yet account for it; explain it to me if you can. I cannot see, neither, what the Duke of Devonshire and Fox, whom I looked upon as intimately united, can have quarreled about, with relation to the Treasury; inform me, if you know. I never doubted of the prudent versatility of your Vicar of Bray: But I am surprised at O’Brien Windham’s going out of the Treasury, where I should have thought that the interest of his brother-in-law, George Grenville, would have kept him.
I’m still confused about the changes at Court, and I see that not all the details are set yet. Who would have thought, a year ago, that Mr. Fox, the Chancellor, and the Duke of Newcastle would all leave together? I can’t figure it out; explain it to me if you can. I also don’t understand what the Duke of Devonshire and Fox, whom I thought were closely allied, could have had a falling out about in relation to the Treasury; let me know if you have any insight. I never doubted the clever adaptability of your Vicar of Bray, but I’m surprised about O’Brien Windham leaving the Treasury, where I figured his brother-in-law, George Grenville, would have influenced him to stay.
Having found myself rather worse, these two or three last days, I was obliged to take some ipecacuanha last night; and, what you will think odd, for a vomit, I brought it all up again in about an hour, to my great satisfaction and emolument, which is seldom the case in restitutions.
Having felt pretty bad these past two or three days, I had to take some ipecacuanha last night; and, strangely enough, I threw it all up again in about an hour, which I found very satisfying and helpful, something that doesn’t usually happen with vomiting.
You did well to go to the Duke of Newcastle, who, I suppose, will have no more levees; however, go from time to time, and leave your name at his door, for you have obligations to him. Adieu.
You did well to visit the Duke of Newcastle, who I assume won't be holding any more gatherings; however, make sure to stop by occasionally and leave your name at his door, as you have obligations to him. Goodbye.
LETTER CCIV
BATH, December 14, 1756.
MY DEAR FRIEND: What can I say to you from this place, where EVERY DAY IS STILL BUT AS THE FIRST, though by no means so agreeably passed, as Anthony describes his to have been? The same nothings succeed one another every day with me, as, regularly and uniformly as the hours of the day. You will think this tiresome, and so it is; but how can I help it? Cut off from society by my deafness, and dispirited by my ill health, where could I be better? You will say, perhaps, where could you be worse? Only in prison, or the galleys, I confess. However, I see a period to my stay here; and I have fixed, in my own mind, a time for my return to London; not invited there by either politics or pleasures, to both which I am equally a stranger, but merely to be at home; which, after all, according to the vulgar saying, is home, be it ever so homely.
MY DEAR FRIEND: What can I tell you from this place, where EVERY DAY IS still just like the first, although not nearly as pleasantly spent as Anthony describes his to have been? The same monotonous routine repeats itself every day for me, as consistently and predictably as the hours pass. You might find this boring, and it certainly is; but what can I do about it? Isolated from society due to my deafness and feeling down because of my poor health, where else could I be better? You might argue that there are worse places, like prison or the galleys, and I can't deny that. However, I see an end to my time here; and I’ve decided in my mind when I’ll return to London—not because of politics or social events, both of which I am completely out of touch with, but simply to be home; which, after all, is where the heart is, no matter how humble it may be.
The political settlement, as it is called, is, I find, by no means settled; Mr. Fox, who took this place in his way to his brother’s, where he intended to pass a month, was stopped short by an express, which he received from his connection, to come to town immediately; and accordingly he set out from hence very early, two days ago. I had a very long conversation with him, in which he was, seemingly at least, very frank and communicative; but still I own myself in the dark. In those matters, as in most others, half knowledge (and mine is at most that) is more apt to lead one into error, than to carry one to truth; and our own vanity contributes to the seduction. Our conjectures pass upon us for truths; we will know what we do not know, and often, what we cannot know: so mortifying to our pride is the bare suspicion of ignorance!
The political situation, as it’s called, is, in my opinion, far from settled; Mr. Fox, who was on his way to his brother’s for a month-long visit, was abruptly interrupted by a message from his contact to come to town immediately; so, he left very early, two days ago. I had a long conversation with him, where he seemed quite open and communicative; yet I still admit I’m confused. In these matters, as in many others, having only partial knowledge (and that’s all I have) is more likely to mislead than to lead to the truth; and our own pride plays a role in this deception. Our guesses often pass as truths; we want to know what we don't know, and frequently, what we can’t know: it's so frustrating to our pride just to suspect ignorance!
It has been reported here that the Empress of Russia is dying; this would be a fortunate event indeed for the King of Prussia, and necessarily produce the neutrality and inaction, at least, of that great power; which would be a heavy weight taken out of the opposite scale to the King of Prussia. The ‘Augustissima’ must, in that case, do all herself; for though France will, no doubt, promise largely, it will, I believe, perform but scantily; as it desires no better than that the different powers of Germany should tear one another to pieces.
It has been reported here that the Empress of Russia is dying; this would be a fortunate event for the King of Prussia and would likely lead to the neutrality and inaction of that major power, effectively removing a significant obstacle for the King of Prussia. In that case, the ‘Augustissima’ will have to handle everything on her own; for while France will likely make big promises, I believe it will deliver very little, as it would prefer to see the various powers in Germany fight among themselves.
I hope you frequent all the courts: a man should make his face familiar there. Long habit produces favor insensibly; and acquaintance often does more than friendship, in that climate where ‘les beaux sentimens’ are not the natural growth.
I hope you spend time at all the courts: a person should make their face known there. Regular presence builds goodwill without you even realizing it; and familiarity often achieves more than friendship, especially in a place where 'the beautiful feelings' aren't naturally found.
Adieu! I am going to the ball, to save my eyes from reading, and my mind from thinking.
Goodbye! I'm heading to the ball to give my eyes a break from reading and my mind a break from thinking.
LETTER CCV
BATH, January 12, 1757
MY DEAR FRIEND: I waited quietly, to see when either your leisure, or your inclinations, would al low you to honor me with a letter; and at last I received one this morning, very near a fortnight after you went from hence. You will say, that you had no news to write me; and that probably may be true; but, without news, one has always something to say to those with whom one desires to have anything to do.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I waited patiently to see when you would have the time or desire to write to me, and I finally got your letter this morning, nearly two weeks after you left. You'll say that you had no news to share, and that might be true; but even without news, there's always something to say to those we want to connect with.
Your observation is very just with regard to the King of Prussia, whom the most august House of Austria would most unquestionably have poisoned a century or two ago. But now that ‘terras Astraea reliquit’, kings and princes die of natural deaths; even war is pusillanimously carried on in this degenerate age; quarter is given; towns are taken, and the people spared: even in a storm, a woman can hardly hope for the benefit of a rape. Whereas (such was the humanity of former days) prisoners were killed by thousands in cold blood, and the generous victors spared neither man, woman, nor child. Heroic actions of this kind were performed at the taking of Magdebourg. The King of Prussia is certainly now in a situation that must soon decide his fate, and make him Caesar or nothing. Notwithstanding the march of the Russians, his great danger, in my mind, lies westward. I have no great notions of Apraxin’s abilities, and I believe many a Prussian colonel would out-general him. But Brown, Piccolomini, Lucchese, and many other veteran officers in the Austrian troops, are respectable enemies.
Your observation about the King of Prussia is spot on. The mighty House of Austria would have definitely poisoned him a century or two ago. But now that "Astraea has left the earth," kings and princes tend to die of natural causes; even warfare is timidly conducted in this declining era; mercy is shown; cities are captured, and the citizens are spared: even in a chaotic situation, a woman can hardly expect to be assaulted. In contrast, during earlier times, thousands of prisoners were executed without mercy, and the noble victors spared neither men, women, nor children. Acts of heroism like that were seen during the capture of Magdebourg. The King of Prussia is certainly in a situation that will soon determine his fate, making him a Caesar or leaving him with nothing. Despite the Russians moving forward, I believe his greatest danger lies to the west. I don’t think much of Apraxin’s skills, and I believe several Prussian colonels would outsmart him. However, Brown, Piccolomini, Lucchese, and many other experienced officers in the Austrian army are formidable foes.
Mr. Pitt seems to me to have almost as many enemies to encounter as his Prussian Majesty. The late Ministry, and the Duke’s party, will, I presume, unite against him and his Tory friends; and then quarrel among themselves again. His best, if not his only chance of supporting himself would be, if he had credit enough in the city, to hinder the advancing of the money to any administration but his own; and I have met with some people here who think that he has.
Mr. Pitt seems to have nearly as many enemies to face as the Prussian King. The former government and the Duke’s faction will likely team up against him and his Tory allies, and then end up fighting among themselves again. His best, if not his only, chance for survival would be if he had enough influence in the city to block funding for any administration but his own; and I've met some people here who believe that he does.
I have put off my journey from hence for a week, but no longer. I find I still gain some strength and some flesh here, and therefore I will not cut while the run is for me.
I’ve delayed my trip from here for a week, but I can’t wait any longer. I find that I’m still gaining some strength and weight here, so I won’t cut it short while things are going well for me.
By a letter which I received this morning from Lady Allen, I observe that you are extremely well with her; and it is well for you to be so, for she is an excellent and warm puff.
I got a letter this morning from Lady Allen, and I see that you are doing really well with her; it’s good for you to be in her good graces because she’s a great supporter.
‘A propos’ (an expression which is commonly used to introduce whatever is unrelative to it) you should apply to some of Lord Holderness’s people, for the perusal of Mr. Cope’s letters. It would not be refused you; and the sooner you have them the better. I do not mean them as models for your manner of writing, but as outlines of the matter you are to write upon.
‘By the way’ (a phrase commonly used to introduce something unrelated) you should reach out to some of Lord Holderness’s people for Mr. Cope’s letters. They won’t deny you; and the sooner you get them, the better. I don’t mean for them to be examples of how you should write, but as guides for the topics you need to cover.
If you have not read Hume’s “Essays” read them; they are four very small volumes; I have just finished, and am extremely pleased with them. He thinks impartially, deep, often new; and, in my mind, commonly just. Adieu.
If you haven't read Hume's "Essays," you should; they're four very small volumes. I just finished them, and I'm really pleased. He thinks fairly, deeply, and often in fresh ways, and I believe he's usually right. Goodbye.
LETTER CCVI
BLACKHEATH, September 17, 1757
MY DEAR FRIEND: Lord Holderness has been so kind as to communicate to me all the letters which he has received from you hitherto, dated the 15th, 19th, 23d, and 26th August; and also a draught of that which he wrote to you the 9th instant. I am very well pleased with all your letters; and, what is better, I can tell you that the King is so too; and he said, but three days ago, to Monsieur Munchausen, HE (meaning you) SETS OUT VERY WELL, AND I LIKE HIS LETTERS; PROVIDED THAT, LIKE MOST OF MY ENGLISH MINISTERS ABROAD, HE DOES NOT GROW IDLE HEREAFTER. So that here is both praise to flatter, and a hint to warn you. What Lord Holderness recommends to you, being by the King’s order, intimates also a degree of approbation; for the BLACKER INK, AND THE LARGER CHARACTER, show, that his Majesty, whose eyes are grown weaker, intends to read all your letters himself. Therefore, pray do not neglect to get the blackest ink you can; and to make your secretary enlarge his hand, though ‘d’ailleurs’ it is a very good one.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Lord Holderness has been kind enough to share with me all the letters he has received from you so far, dated the 15th, 19th, 23rd, and 26th of August; as well as a draft of the one he wrote to you on the 9th of this month. I am very pleased with all your letters, and, even better, I can tell you that the King feels the same way. Just three days ago, he told Monsieur Munchausen, "HE (meaning you) STARTS OUT VERY WELL, AND I LIKE HIS LETTERS; PROVIDED THAT, LIKE MOST OF MY ENGLISH MINISTERS ABROAD, HE DOES NOT GROW IDLE FROM NOW ON." So here’s both praise to flatter you and a hint to warn you. What Lord Holderness suggests to you, as per the King’s orders, also indicates some level of approval; for the BLACKER INK AND THE LARGER CHARACTER show that His Majesty, whose eyesight has weakened, intends to read all your letters himself. Therefore, please make sure to get the darkest ink possible and have your secretary write in a larger hand, even though his current handwriting is already quite good.
Had I been to wish an advantageous situation for you, and a good debut in it, I could not have wished you either better than both have hitherto proved. The rest will depend entirely upon yourself; and I own I begin to have much better hopes than I had; for I know, by my own experience, that the more one works, the more willing one is to work. We are all, more or less, ‘des animaux d’habitude’. I remember very well, that when I was in business, I wrote four or five hours together every day, more willingly than I should now half an hour; and this is most certain, that when a man has applied himself to business half the day, the other half, goes off the more cheerfully and agreeably. This I found so sensibly, when I was at The Hague, that I never tasted company so well nor was so good company myself, as at the suppers of my post days. I take Hamburg now to be ‘le centre du refuge Allemand’. If you have any Hanover ‘refugies’ among them, pray take care to be particularly attentive to them. How do you like your house? Is it a convenient one? Have the ‘Casserolles’ been employed in it yet? You will find ‘les petits soupers fins’ less expensive, and turn to better account, than large dinners for great companies.
If I had the chance to wish for a good situation and a great start for you, I couldn't have wished for anything better than what you've experienced so far. The rest is completely up to you, and I have to say I’m feeling much more optimistic than I did before; my own experience has shown me that the more you put in, the more you're willing to do. We are all, to some extent, creatures of habit. I remember when I was in business, I would write for four or five hours a day, enjoying it more than I could manage to sit down for half an hour now. It's definitely true that when you focus on work for half the day, the other half goes by much more cheerfully and pleasantly. I noticed this clearly when I was in The Hague; I never enjoyed company as much nor was I as good company myself as I was at the dinners on my workdays. I now consider Hamburg to be the center of German refuge. If you have any Hanover refugees with you, please make sure to pay special attention to them. How do you like your house? Is it convenient? Have the “Casserolles” been used in it yet? You'll find that small, fine dinners will be less costly and more rewarding than large meals for big groups.
I hope you have written to the Duke of Newcastle; I take it for granted that you have to all your brother ministers of the northern department. For God’s sake be diligent, alert, active, and indefatigable in your business. You want nothing but labor and industry to be, one day, whatever you please, in your own way.
I hope you’ve reached out to the Duke of Newcastle; I’m assuming you’ve contacted all your fellow ministers in the northern department. For goodness’ sake, be diligent, alert, active, and tireless in your work. All you need is hard work and effort to become, one day, whatever you choose, on your own terms.
We think and talk of nothing here but Brest, which is universally supposed to be the object of our great expedition. A great and important object it is. I suppose the affair must be brusque, or it will not do. If we succeed, it will make France put some water to its wine. As for my own private opinion, I own I rather wish than hope success. However, should our expedition fail, ‘Magnis tamen excidit ausis’, and that will be better than our late languid manner of making war.
We’re only thinking and talking about Brest here, which everyone believes is the main goal of our big expedition. It’s definitely significant. I guess the operation has to be swift; otherwise, it won’t work. If we succeed, it will force France to tone things down a bit. Personally, I’d say I wish for success more than I actually believe in it. But if our expedition fails, “Magnis tamen excidit ausis,” and that would be better than our recent sluggish way of waging war.
To mention a person to you whom I am very indifferent about, I mean myself, I vegetate still just as I did when we parted; but I think I begin to be sensible of the autumn of the year; as well as of the autumn of my own life. I feel an internal awkwardness, which, in about three weeks, I shall carry with me to the Bath, where I hope to get rid of it, as I did last year. The best cordial I could take, would be to hear, from time to time, of your industry and diligence; for in that case I should consequently hear of your success. Remember your own motto, ‘Nullum numen abest si sit prudentia’. Nothing is truer. Yours.
I'm going to mention someone I'm pretty indifferent about—myself. I'm still just coasting along like I was when we last saw each other, but I think I'm starting to feel the autumn in the air, as well as the autumn of my own life. I sense an internal awkwardness that I plan to take with me to the Bath in about three weeks, where I'm hoping to shake it off like I did last year. The best thing I could hear would be updates about your hard work and dedication; that way, I’d also hear about your success. Remember your own motto, ‘Nullum numen abest si sit prudentia’. Nothing could be truer. Yours.
LETTER CCVII
BLACKHEATH, September 23, 1757
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received but the day before yesterday your letter of the 3d, from the headquarters at Selsingen; and, by the way, it is but the second that I have received from you since your arrival at Hamburg. Whatever was the cause of your going to the army, I approve of the effect; for I would have you, as much as possible, see everything that is to be seen. That is the true useful knowledge, which informs and improves us when we are young, and amuses us and others when we are old; ‘Olim haec meminisse juvabit’. I could wish that you would (but I know you will not) enter in a book, a short note only, of whatever you see or hear, that is very remarkable: I do not mean a German ALBUM stuffed with people’s names, and Latin sentences; but I mean such a book, as, if you do not keep now, thirty years hence you would give a great deal of money to have kept. ‘A propos de bottes’, for I am told he always wears his; was his Royal Highness very gracious to you, or not? I have my doubts about it. The neutrality which he has concluded with Marechal de Richelieu, will prevent that bloody battle which you expected; but what the King of Prussia will say to it is another point. He was our only ally; at present, probably we have not one in the world. If the King of Prussia can get at Monsieur de Soubize’s, and the Imperial army, before other troops have joined them, I think he will beat them but what then? He has three hundred thousand men to encounter afterward. He must submit; but he may say with truth, ‘Si Pergama dextra defendi potuissent’. The late action between the Prussians and Russians has only thinned the human species, without giving either party a victory; which is plain by each party’s claiming it. Upon my word, our species will pay very dear for the quarrels and ambition of a few, and those by no means the most valuable part of it. If the many were wiser than they are, the few must be quieter, and would perhaps be juster and better than they are.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from the headquarters at Selsingen just the day before yesterday, dated the 3rd; and by the way, it’s only the second letter I’ve gotten from you since you arrived in Hamburg. Whatever your reason for joining the army was, I like the result; I want you to see as much as possible of what there is to see. That’s the real knowledge that informs us and improves us when we’re young, and entertains us and others when we’re old; ‘Olim haec meminisse juvabit’. I wish you would (but I know you won't) jot down a few notes in a book about anything noteworthy you see or hear: I don’t mean a German ALBUM packed with names and Latin quotes, but a book that, if you don’t keep it now, you’d be willing to pay a lot to have kept thirty years from now. Speaking of boots, since I’ve heard he always wears his, was His Royal Highness kind to you or not? I have my doubts. The neutrality he agreed upon with Marechal de Richelieu will stop that bloody battle you were expecting; but what the King of Prussia will think about it is another matter. He was our only ally; right now, we probably don’t have any allies in the world. If the King of Prussia can get to Monsieur de Soubize’s and the Imperial army before other troops join them, I think he’ll defeat them, but then what? He has three hundred thousand men to face afterward. He’ll have to accept it, but he can sincerely say, ‘Si Pergama dextra defendi potuissent’. The recent clash between the Prussians and Russians has only reduced the population without giving either side a real victory, which is evident by both claiming they won. Honestly, our species is going to pay dearly for the disputes and ambitions of a few people, and those are by no means the most valuable among us. If the majority were wiser than they are, the few would have to be quieter, and might even be fairer and better than they are.
Hamburg, I find, swarms with Grafs, Graffins, Fursts, and Furstins, Hocheits, and Durchlaugticheits. I am glad of it, for you must necessarily be in the midst of them; and I am still more glad, that, being in the midst of them, you must necessarily be under some constraint of ceremony; a thing which you do not love, but which is, however, very useful.
Hamburg, I've noticed, is full of counts, countesses, princes, and princesses, highnesses, and royal personages. I'm happy about that because you have to be surrounded by them; and I'm even happier that, being in their presence, you have to follow some rules of etiquette; something you may not enjoy, but it’s definitely important.
I desired you in my last, and I repeat it again in this, to give me an account of your private and domestic life.
I wanted you in my last letter, and I’ll say it again in this one: please tell me about your personal and home life.
How do you pass your evenings? Have they, at Hamburg, what are called at Paris ‘des Maisons’, where one goes without ceremony, sups or not, as one pleases? Are you adopted in any society? Have you any rational brother ministers, and which? What sort of things are your operas? In the tender, I doubt they do not excel; for ‘mein lieber schatz’, and the other tendernesses of the Teutonic language, would, in my mind, sound but indifferently, set to soft music; for the bravura parts, I have a great opinion of them; and ‘das, der donner dich erschlage’, must no doubt, make a tremendously fine piece of ‘recitativo’, when uttered by an angry hero, to the rumble of a whole orchestra, including drums, trumpets, and French horns. Tell me your whole allotment of the day, in which I hope four hours, at least, are sacred to writing; the others cannot be better employed than in LIBERAL pleasures. In short, give me a full account of yourself, in your un-ministerial character, your incognito, without your ‘fiocchi’. I love to see those, in whom I interest myself, in their undress, rather than in gala; I know them better so. I recommend to you, ‘etiam atque etiam’, method and order in everything you undertake. Do you observe it in your accounts? If you do not, you will be a beggar, though you were to receive the appointments of a Spanish Ambassador extraordinary, which are a thousand pistoles a month; and in your ministerial business, if you have no regular and stated hours for such and such parts of it, you will be in the hurry and confusion of the Duke of N——-, doing everything by halves, and nothing well, nor soon. I suppose you ‘have been feasted through the Corps diplomatique at Hamburg, excepting Monsieur Champeaux; with whom, however, I hope you live ‘poliment et galamment’, at all third places.
How do you spend your evenings? Do they have what are called in Paris "Maisons" in Hamburg, where you can go without fuss, eat or not, as you like? Are you part of any social circles? Do you have any sensible fellow ministers, and which ones? What are your operas like? I doubt they excel in the softer parts; phrases like "mein lieber schatz" and other sweet phrases in German wouldn’t sound so great set to soft music in my opinion. For the bravura sections, I hold them in high regard; I'm sure "das, der donner dich erschlage" must make an incredible piece of recitative when delivered by an angry hero, accompanied by a full orchestra, including drums, trumpets, and French horns. Tell me about your entire day; I hope you dedicate at least four hours to writing. The rest of your time could be better spent on good pleasures. In short, give me a complete picture of yourself, in your non-ministerial role, your incognito, without your formalities. I prefer to see the people I care about in their casual selves rather than in their formal attire; I understand them better that way. I recommend to you, again and again, to have method and order in everything you do. Do you keep it in your finances? If you don't, you'll end up broke, even if you get paid like a special Spanish ambassador, making a thousand pistoles a month. In your ministerial duties, if you don't have consistent set hours for different tasks, you'll end up in the chaotic state of the Duke of N——, doing everything halfway and not doing anything well or on time. I assume you've been entertained by the diplomatic corps in Hamburg, except for Monsieur Champeaux; however, I hope you get along politely and pleasantly with him in all other settings.
Lord Loudon is much blamed here for his ‘retraite des dix milles’, for it is said that he had above that number, and might consequently have acted offensively, instead of retreating; especially as his retreat was contrary to the unanimous opinion (as it is now said) of the council of war. In our Ministry, I suppose, things go pretty quietly, for the D. of N. has not plagued me these two months. When his Royal Highness comes over, which I take it for granted he will do very soon, the great push will, I presume, be made at his Grace and Mr. Pitt; but without effect if they agree, as it is visibly their interest to do; and, in that case, their parliamentary strength will support them against all attacks. You may remember, I said at first, that the popularity would soon be on the side of those who opposed the popular Militia Bill; and now it appears so with a vengeance, in almost every county in England, by the tumults and insurrections of the people, who swear that they will not be enlisted. That silly scheme must therefore be dropped, as quietly as may be. Now that I have told you all that I know, and almost all that I think, I wish you a good supper and a good-night.
Lord Loudon is getting a lot of criticism here for his ‘retreat of the ten thousand’ because people say he had more than that number and could have taken offensive action instead of retreating; especially since his retreat went against what everyone in the war council supposedly agreed on. In our ministry, things seem to be going fairly smoothly, since the Duke of Newcastle hasn't bothered me in the past two months. I assume when His Royal Highness comes over, which I expect will be soon, there will be a big push against his Grace and Mr. Pitt; but it won’t matter if they’re on the same page, as it’s clearly in their best interest to be. If they work together, their strength in Parliament will protect them from any attacks. You might recall I mentioned early on that popularity would shift to those who opposed the Militia Bill, and now that’s definitely the case, with unrest and uprisings across almost every county in England, as people swear they won’t enlist. That foolish plan will need to be quietly abandoned. Having shared everything I know and almost everything I think, I wish you a good supper and a good night.
LETTER CCVIII
BLACKHEATH, September 30, 1757
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have so little to do, that I am surprised how I can find time to write to you so often. Do not stare at the seeming paradox; for it is an undoubted truth, that the less one has to do, the less time one finds to do it in. One yawns, one procrastinates, one can do it when one will, and therefore one seldom does it at all; whereas those who have a great deal of business, must (to use a vulgar expression) buckle to it; and then they always find time enough to do it in. I hope your own experience has by this time convinced you of this truth.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have so little going on that I’m surprised I can find the time to write to you so often. Don’t be puzzled by this apparent contradiction; it’s a clear truth that the less one has to do, the less time one seems to have to do it. One yawns, puts things off, can do it whenever they want, and so they often don’t do it at all; meanwhile, those who have a lot on their plate have to (to use a common phrase) just get to work; and they always manage to find enough time to get it done. I hope your own experience has convinced you of this by now.
I received your last of the 8th. It is now quite over with a very great man, who will still be a very great man, though a very unfortunate one. He has qualities of the mind that put him above the reach of these misfortunes; and if reduced, as perhaps he may, to the ‘marche’ of Brandenburg, he will always find in himself the comfort, and with all the world the credit, of a philosopher, a legislator, a patron, and a professor of arts and sciences. He will only lose the fame of a conqueror; a cruel fame, that arises from the destruction of the human species. Could it be any satisfaction to him to know, I could tell him, that he is at this time the most popular man in this kingdom; the whole nation being enraged at that neutrality which hastens and completes his ruin. Between you and me, the King was not less enraged at it himself, when he saw the terms of it; and it affected his health more than all that had happened before. Indeed it seems to me a voluntary concession of the very worst that could have happened in the worst event. We now begin to think that our great and secret expedition is intended for Martinico and St. Domingo; if that be true, and we succeed in the attempt, we shall recover, and the French lose, one of the most valuable branches of commerce—I mean sugar. The French now supply all the foreign markets in Europe with that commodity; we only supply ourselves with it. This would make us some amends for our ill luck, or ill conduct in North America; where Lord Loudon, with twelve thousand men, thought himself no match for the French with but seven; and Admiral Holborne, with seventeen ships of the line, declined attacking the French, because they had eighteen, and a greater weight of METAL, according to the new sea-phrase, which was unknown to Blake. I hear that letters have been sent to both with very severe reprimands. I am told, and I believe it is true, that we are negotiating with the Corsican, I will not say rebels, but asserters of their natural rights; to receive them, and whatever form of government they think fit to establish, under our protection, upon condition of their delivering up to us Port Ajaccio; which may be made so strong and so good a one, as to be a full equivalent for the loss of Port Mahon. This is, in my mind, a very good scheme; for though the Corsicans are a parcel of cruel and perfidious rascals, they will in this case be tied down to us by their own interest and their own danger; a solid security with knaves, though none with fools. His Royal Highness the Duke is hourly expected here: his arrival will make some bustle; for I believe it is certain that he is resolved to make a push at the Duke of N., Pitt and Co.; but it will be ineffectual, if they continue to agree, as, to my CERTAIN KNOWLEDGE, they do at present. This parliament is theirs, ‘caetera quis nescit’?
I received your last message from the 8th. It’s all over now with a very significant man, who will remain a significant man, even though he's very unfortunate. He has mental qualities that lift him above these misfortunes; and if he’s reduced, as he might be, to the ‘march’ of Brandenburg, he will always find comfort within himself, and with everyone else, he will have the reputation of a philosopher, a legislator, a patron, and a professor of arts and sciences. He will only lose the reputation of a conqueror; a harsh reputation, which comes from the destruction of human lives. Could it bring him any satisfaction to know, I could tell him that he is currently the most popular man in this kingdom; the whole nation is angered by that neutrality which hastens and completes his downfall. Between you and me, the King was no less upset about it himself when he saw the terms; it affected his health more than anything that had happened before. In fact, it seems to me a voluntary concession of the very worst that could have happened in the worst situation. We are starting to think that our great and secret expedition is aimed at Martinique and Santo Domingo; if that’s true, and we succeed, we will recover, and the French will lose one of the most valuable parts of commerce—I mean sugar. The French currently supply all European foreign markets with that commodity; we only supply ourselves. This would somewhat compensate us for our bad luck, or poor decisions in North America; where Lord Loudon, with twelve thousand men, thought he could not handle the French with only seven; and Admiral Holborne, with seventeen ships, declined to attack the French because they had eighteen, and more firepower, according to the new naval terminology, which was unknown to Blake. I’ve heard that letters have been sent to both with very harsh reprimands. I’ve been told, and I believe it’s true, that we are negotiating with the Corsicans, I won’t call them rebels, but assertors of their natural rights; to welcome them, and whatever form of government they choose to establish, under our protection, on the condition that they surrender Port Ajaccio to us; which can be made strong enough to compensate fully for the loss of Port Mahon. In my opinion, this is a very good plan; because although the Corsicans are a bunch of cruel and treacherous rascals, they will in this case be tied to us by their own interests and their own dangers; a solid security with rogues, though none with fools. His Royal Highness the Duke is expected to arrive here any moment: his arrival will create some excitement; because I believe it’s certain that he intends to take on the Duke of N., Pitt and Company; but it will be ineffective if they continue to agree, as, to my certain knowledge, they currently do. This parliament belongs to them, who doesn’t know that?
Now that I have told you all that I know or have heard, of public matters, let us talk of private ones that more nearly and immediately concern us. Admit me to your fire-side, in your little room; and as you would converse with me there, write to me for the future from thence. Are you completely ‘nippe’ yet? Have you formed what the world calls connections? that is, a certain number of acquaintances whom, from accident or choice, you frequent more than others: Have you either fine or well-bred women there? ‘Y a-t-il quelque bon ton’? All fat and fair, I presume; too proud and too cold to make advances, but, at the same time, too well-bred and too warm to reject them, when made by ‘un honnete homme avec des manieres’.
Now that I've shared everything I know or have heard about public affairs, let's discuss personal matters that are more relevant to us. Invite me to your fireside in your small room; and as we would talk there, write to me from that place in the future. Are you fully settled in yet? Have you established what people refer to as connections? That is, a certain number of acquaintances you see more often, whether by chance or choice: Do you have any refined or well-mannered women among them? Is there any good style? I assume they’re all attractive and proud, too aloof to make the first move, but at the same time, too well-mannered and warm to turn down advances made by a gentleman with good manners.
Mr.———is to be married, in about a month, to Miss———. I am very glad of it; for, as he will never be a man of the world, but will always lead a domestic and retired life, she seems to have been made on purpose for him. Her natural turn is as grave and domestic as his; and she seems to have been kept by her aunts ‘a la grace’, instead of being raised in a hot bed, as most young ladies are of late. If, three weeks hence, you write him a short compliment of congratulation upon the occasion, he, his mother, and ‘tutti quanti’, would be extremely pleased with it. Those attentions are always kindly taken, and cost one nothing but pen, ink, and paper. I consider them as draughts upon good-breeding, where the exchange is always greatly in favor of the drawer. ‘A propos’ of exchange; I hope you have, with the help of your secretary, made yourself correctly master of all that sort of knowledge—Course of Exchange, ‘Agie, Banco, Reiche-Thalers’, down to ‘Marien Groschen’. It is very little trouble to learn it; it is often of great use to know it. Good-night, and God bless you!
Mr.——— is getting married in about a month to Miss———. I’m really happy about it because, since he will never be a man of the world and will always live a quiet, domestic life, she seems perfect for him. Her nature is as serious and home-focused as his, and it seems like her aunts have kept her in a traditional way instead of raising her in a bubble like many young ladies these days. If you write him a short congratulatory note in three weeks, he, his mother, and everyone else would really appreciate it. Those kinds of gestures are always received well and only cost you pen, ink, and paper. I see them as small investments in good manners, where the return is always much larger for the giver. Speaking of investments, I hope you and your secretary have made sure you fully understand all that financial knowledge—Exchange Rates, ‘Agie, Banco, Reiche-Thalers’, all the way down to ‘Marien Groschen’. It's not hard to learn, and it can be really useful to know. Good night, and God bless you!
LETTER CCIX
BLACKHEATH, October 10, 1757
MY DEAR FRIEND: It is not without some difficulty that I snatch this moment of leisure from my extreme idleness, to inform you of the present lamentable and astonishing state of affairs here, which you would know but imperfectly from the public papers, and but partially from your private correspondents. ‘Or sus’ then—Our in vincible Armada, which cost at least half a million, sailed, as you know, some weeks ago; the object kept an inviolable secret: conjectures various, and expectations great. Brest was perhaps to be taken; but Martinico and St. Domingo, at least. When lo! the important island of Aix was taken without the least resistance, seven hundred men made prisoners, and some pieces of cannon carried off. From thence we sailed toward Rochfort, which it seems was our main object; and consequently one should have supposed that we had pilots on board who knew all the soundings and landing places there and thereabouts: but no; for General M——-t asked the Admiral if he could land him and the troops near Rochfort? The Admiral said, with great ease. To which the General replied, but can you take us on board again? To which the Admiral answered, that, like all naval operations, will depend upon the wind. If so, said the General, I’ll e’en go home again. A Council of War was immediately called, where it was unanimously resolved, that it was ADVISABLE to return; accordingly they are returned. As the expectations of the whole nation had been raised to the highest pitch, the universal disappointment and indignation have arisen in proportion; and I question whether the ferment of men’s minds was ever greater. Suspicions, you may be sure, are various and endless, but the most prevailing one is, that the tail of the Hanover neutrality, like that of a comet, extended itself to Rochfort. What encourages this suspicion is, that a French man of war went unmolested through our whole fleet, as it lay near Rochfort. Haddock’s whole story is revived; Michel’s representations are combined with other circumstances; and the whole together makes up a mass of discontent, resentment, and even fury, greater than perhaps was ever known in this country before. These are the facts, draw your own conclusions from them; for my part, I am lost in astonishment and conjectures, and do not know where to fix. My experience has shown me, that many things which seem extremely probable are not true: and many which seem highly improbable are true; so that I will conclude this article, as Josephus does almost every article of his history, with saying, BUT OF THIS EVERY MAN WILL BELIEVE AS HE THINKS PROPER. What a disgraceful year will this be in the annals of this country! May its good genius, if ever it appears again, tear out those sheets, thus stained and blotted by our ignominy!
MY DEAR FRIEND: It's not easy for me to take this brief moment away from my total laziness to update you on the current sad and surprising situation here, which you might only know partially from the news and even less from your contacts. So, here we go—Our invincible Armada, which cost at least half a million, set sail a few weeks ago; the goal was kept completely secret: there were various guesses and high expectations. Brest was maybe going to be captured; at the very least, Martinique and Santo Domingo. Then, suddenly! The crucial island of Aix was taken without any resistance, seven hundred men were captured, and some cannons were taken. From there, we headed toward Rochefort, which seemed to be our main target; you would think we had pilots onboard who knew the depths and landing spots there, but no; because General M——-t asked the Admiral if he could drop him and the troops near Rochefort? The Admiral replied casually. To which the General responded, but can you pick us up again? The Admiral said that, like all naval operations, it would depend on the wind. If so, said the General, I might as well just go home. A Council of War was immediately called, and it was unanimously decided that it was ADVISABLE to return; and so they returned. Since the entire nation’s expectations had been raised to the highest level, the widespread disappointment and anger have risen just as much; and I doubt there's ever been a bigger uproar among people. You can be sure there are endless suspicions, but the most common one is that the tail of Hanover's neutrality, like that of a comet, reached out to Rochefort. What fuels this belief is that a French warship passed completely unharmed through our entire fleet as it lay near Rochefort. Haddock’s entire story has been brought back up; Michel’s claims are combined with other circumstances; and all of this together creates a level of discontent, resentment, and even fury greater than perhaps has ever been seen in this country before. These are the facts—draw your own conclusions; as for me, I’m filled with astonishment and speculation, not knowing where to settle my thoughts. My experience has shown me that many things that seem highly likely are not true, and many that seem very unlikely actually are; so I will end this as Josephus does almost every part of his history, by saying, BUT OF THIS EVERY MAN WILL BELIEVE AS HE THINKS PROPER. What a disgraceful year this will be in the history of this country! May its good spirit, if it ever shows up again, tear out those pages, thus stained and ruined by our shame!
Our domestic affairs are, as far as I know anything of them, in the same situation as when I wrote to you last; but they will begin to be in motion upon the approach of the session, and upon the return of the Duke, whose arrival is most impatiently expected by the mob of London; though not to strew flowers in his way.
Our local issues are, as far as I know, in the same state as when I last wrote to you; however, they will start to move once the session begins and when the Duke returns, whose arrival is eagerly anticipated by the crowds in London, though not to shower him with flowers.
I leave this place next Saturday, and London the Saturday following, to be the next day at Bath. Adieu.
I’m leaving this place next Saturday and heading to London the Saturday after that, so I’ll be in Bath the next day. Goodbye.
LETTER CCX
LONDON, October 17, 1757.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last, of the 30th past, was a very good letter; and I will believe half of what you assure me, that you returned to the Landgrave’s civilities. I cannot possibly go farther than half, knowing that you are not lavish of your words, especially in that species of eloquence called the adulatory. Do not use too much discretion in profiting of the Landgrave’s naturalization of you; but go pretty often and feed with him. Choose the company of your superiors, whenever you can have it; that is the right and true pride. The mistaken and silly pride is, to PRIMER among inferiors.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last letter from the 30th was really great, and I will believe half of what you tell me about returning the Landgrave’s kindness. I can’t believe more than half, knowing that you’re not one to waste words, especially when it comes to flattery. Don’t be too cautious in taking advantage of the Landgrave’s acceptance of you; make sure to visit him often and share a meal together. Surround yourself with people who are above you whenever you can; that’s the true and right kind of pride. The foolish and misguided pride is to feel important among those who are beneath you.
Hear, O Israel! and wonder. On Sunday morning last, the Duke gave up his commission of Captain General and his regiment of guards. You will ask me why? I cannot tell you, but I will tell you the causes assigned; which, perhaps, are none of them the true ones. It is said that the King reproached him with having exceeded his powers in making the Hanover Convention, which his R. H. absolutely denied, and threw up thereupon. This is certain, that he appeared at the drawing-room at Kensington, last Sunday, after having quitted, and went straight to Windsor; where, his people say, that he intends to reside quietly, and amuse himself as a private man. But I conjecture that matters will soon be made up again, and that he will resume his employments. You will easily imagine the speculations this event has occasioned in the public; I shall neither trouble you nor myself with relating them; nor would this sheet of paper, or even a quire more, contain them. Some refine enough to suspect that it is a concerted quarrel, to justify SOMEBODY TO SOMEBODY, with regard to the Convention; but I do not believe it.
Listen up, Israel! and be amazed. Last Sunday morning, the Duke resigned from his position as Captain General and his guards. You might wonder why? I can't tell you for sure, but I can share the reasons given; which, perhaps, aren't the real ones. Some say the King criticized him for overstepping his authority in creating the Hanover Convention, which he absolutely denied, and as a result, he resigned. What is clear is that he showed up at the drawing-room in Kensington last Sunday after stepping down, then went straight to Windsor, where people say he plans to live quietly and enjoy himself as a private citizen. But I suspect things will be smoothed over soon, and he will go back to his duties. You can easily guess the gossip this situation has sparked among the public; I won’t bother you or myself by recounting it, nor would this sheet of paper, or even a whole lot more, be enough to hold them. Some are clever enough to suspect it's a staged argument to justify SOMEBODY TO SOMEBODY regarding the Convention; but I don’t believe that.
His R. H.‘s people load the Hanover Ministers, and more particularly our friend Munchausen here, with the whole blame; but with what degree of truth I know not. This only is certain, that the whole negotiation of that affair was broached and carried on by the Hanover Ministers and Monsieur Stemberg at Vienna, absolutely unknown to the English Ministers, till it was executed. This affair combined (for people will combine it) with the astonishing return of our great armament, not only ‘re infecta’, but even ‘intentata’, makes such a jumble of reflections, conjectures, and refinements, that one is weary of hearing them. Our Tacituses and Machiavels go deep, suspect the worst, and, perhaps, as they often do, overshoot the mark. For my own part, I fairly confess that I am bewildered, and have not certain ‘postulata’ enough, not only to found any opinion, but even to form conjectures upon: and this is the language which I think you should hold to all who speak to you, as to be sure all will, upon that subject. Plead, as you truly may, your own ignorance; and say, that it is impossible to judge of those nice points, at such a distance, and without knowing all circumstances, which you cannot be supposed to do. And as to the Duke’s resignation; you should, in my opinion, say, that perhaps there might be a little too much vivacity in the case, but that, upon the whole, you make no doubt of the thing’s being soon set right again; as, in truth, I dare say it will. Upon these delicate occasions, you must practice the ministerial shrugs and ‘persiflage’; for silent gesticulations, which you would be most inclined to, would not be sufficient: something must be said, but that something, when analyzed, must amount to nothing. As for instance, ‘Il est vrai qu’on s’y perd, mais que voulez-vous que je vous dise?—il y a bien du pour et du contre; un petit Resident ne voit gueres le fond du sac.—Il faut attendre.—Those sort of expletives are of infinite use; and nine people in ten think they mean something. But to the Landgrave of Hesse I think you would do well to say, in seeming confidence, that you have good reason to believe that the principal objection of his Majesty to the convention was that his Highness’s interests, and the affair of his troops, were not sufficiently considered in it. To the Prussian Minister assert boldly that you know ‘de science certaine’, that the principal object of his Majesty’s and his British Ministry’s intention is not only to perform all their present engagements with his Master, but to take new and stronger ones for his support; for this is true—AT LEAST AT PRESENT.
His people blame the Hanover Ministers, especially our friend Munchausen here, for everything; but how true that is, I can’t say. What I do know is that the whole negotiation about the matter was initiated and handled by the Hanover Ministers and Monsieur Stemberg in Vienna, completely without the knowledge of the English Ministers until it was all done. This situation, combined (because people will connect them) with the astonishing return of our large armada, not only ‘re infecta’ but even ‘intentata’, creates such a mix of thoughts, guesses, and speculations that it’s exhausting to hear them. Our Tacituses and Machiavels dig deep, suspect the worst, and perhaps, as they often do, miss the mark. As for me, I honestly admit that I’m confused and lack enough solid points to form any opinion, or even conjectures about it; and this is the attitude I think you should adopt with anyone who asks you about it, which they certainly will. Honestly admit your own ignorance; say that it’s impossible to judge those subtle points from such a distance, and without knowing all the circumstances, which you certainly can't be expected to know. Regarding the Duke’s resignation, I think you should mention that there may have been a bit too much eagerness in the situation, but overall, you’re confident that things will soon be resolved; and honestly, I believe they will. In these delicate situations, you must master the ministerial shrugs and light banter; because silent gestures, which might feel more natural to you, won’t be enough. Something must be said, but when broken down, it should come to nothing. For example, ‘It’s true it’s confusing, but what do you want me to say?—there’s a lot of pros and cons; a minor Resident doesn’t really see the whole picture.—We need to wait.’ Those kinds of filler phrases are incredibly useful; and nine out of ten people think they actually mean something. But to the Landgrave of Hesse, I think you’d do well to say, in a seemingly confident manner, that you have good reason to believe that the main issue for his Majesty with the convention was that his Highness’s interests, and the situation regarding his troops, weren’t adequately considered. To the Prussian Minister, assert confidently that you know ‘de science certaine’ that the main aim of his Majesty and his British Ministry is not just to fulfill all their current obligations to his Master, but also to form new and stronger commitments for his support; because this is true—AT LEAST RIGHT NOW.
You did very well in inviting Comte Bothmar to dine with you. You see how minutely I am informed of your proceedings, though not from yourself. Adieu.
You did a great job inviting Comte Bothmar to dinner with you. You can see how well-informed I am about your activities, even if it’s not from you directly. Goodbye.
I go to Bath next Saturday; but direct your letters, as usual, to London.
I’m going to Bath next Saturday, but please send your letters, as usual, to London.
LETTER CCXI
BATH, October 26, 1757.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here safe, but far from sound, last Sunday. I have consequently drunk these waters but three days, and yet I find myself something better for them. The night before I left London. I was for some hours at Newcastle House, where the letters, which came that morning, lay upon the table: and his Grace singled out yours with great approbation, and, at the same time, assured me of his Majesty’s approbation, too. To these two approbations I truly add my own, which, ‘sans vanite’, may perhaps be near as good as the other two. In that letter you venture ‘vos petits raisonnemens’ very properly, and then as properly make an excuse for doing so. Go on so, with diligence, and you will be, what I began to despair of your ever being, SOMEBODY. I am persuaded, if you would own the truth, that you feel yourself now much better satisfied with yourself than you were while you did nothing.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here safely, but not in great condition, last Sunday. I've been drinking these waters for just three days, and I already feel a bit better from them. The night before I left London, I spent a few hours at Newcastle House, where the letters that arrived that morning were laid out on the table. His Grace picked out yours with great approval and also assured me of his Majesty’s approval as well. To these two approvals, I genuinely add my own, which, without boasting, might be almost as good as the other two. In that letter, you wisely share your thoughts and then just as wisely make an excuse for doing so. Keep it up with diligence, and you will become, what I had almost given up hope on you ever becoming, SOMEBODY. I’m convinced that if you’re honest with yourself, you now feel much more satisfied than you did when you were doing nothing.
Application to business, attended with approbation and success, flatters and animates the mind: which, in idleness and inaction, stagnates and putrefies. I could wish that every rational man would, every night when he goes to bed, ask himself this question, What have I done to-day? Have I done anything that can be of use to myself or others? Have I employed my time, or have I squandered it? Have I lived out the day, or have I dozed it away in sloth and laziness? A thinking being must be pleased or confounded, according as he can answer himself these questions. I observe that you are in the secret of what is intended, and what Munchausen is gone to Stade to prepare; a bold and dangerous experiment in my mind, and which may probably end in a second volume to the “History of the Palatinate,” in the last century. His Serene Highness of Brunswick has, in my mind, played a prudent and saving game; and I am apt to believe that the other Serene Highness, at Hamburg, is more likely to follow his example than to embark in the great scheme.
Applying oneself to business, with approval and success, boosts and energizes the mind; while idleness and inaction lead to stagnation and decay. I wish that every reasonable person would, every night before bed, ask themselves this question: What have I accomplished today? Have I done anything useful for myself or others? Have I used my time wisely or wasted it? Did I make the most of the day, or did I just pass it in laziness? A thoughtful person will either feel satisfied or troubled based on how they answer these questions. I see that you are in the know about what is being planned and what Munchausen has gone to Stade to prepare; it strikes me as a bold and risky experiment, which may lead to a second volume of the “History of the Palatinate” from the last century. I believe that His Serene Highness of Brunswick has played a careful and conservative game; and I think the other Serene Highness in Hamburg is more likely to follow his lead than to get involved in the ambitious scheme.
I see no signs of the Duke’s resuming his employments; but on the contrary I am assured that his Majesty is coolly determined to do as well as he can without him. The Duke of Devonshire and Fox have worked hard to make up matters in the closet, but to no purpose. People’s self-love is very apt to make them think themselves more necessary than they are: and I shrewdly suspect, that his Royal Highness has been the dupe of that sentiment, and was taken at his word when he least suspected it; like my predecessor, Lord Harrington, who when he went into the closet to resign the seals, had them not about him: so sure he thought himself of being pressed to keep them.
I don’t see any signs of the Duke getting back to work; instead, I’ve been told that the King is calmly determined to manage just fine without him. The Duke of Devonshire and Fox have tried hard to resolve things behind closed doors, but it didn’t work. People’s egos often lead them to think they’re more essential than they actually are. I suspect that His Royal Highness fell for that idea and was believed when he least expected it, similar to my predecessor, Lord Harrington, who went in to resign the seals but didn’t have them with him because he was so sure he would be persuaded to keep them.
The whole talk of London, of this place, and of every place in the whole kingdom, is of our great, expensive, and yet fruitless expedition; I have seen an officer who was there, a very sensible and observing man: who told me that had we attempted Rochfort, the day after we took the island of Aix, our success had been infallible; but that, after we had sauntered (God knows why) eight or ten days in the island, he thinks the attempt would have been impracticable, because the French had in that time got together all the troops in that neighborhood, to a very considerable number. In short, there must have been some secret in that whole affair that has not yet transpired; and I cannot help suspecting that it came from Stade. WE had not been successful there; and perhaps WE were not desirous that an expedition, in which WE had neither been concerned nor consulted, should prove so; M——t was OUR creature, and a word to the wise will sometimes go a great way. M——t is to have a public trial, from which the public expects great discoveries—Not I.
Everyone in London, and all over the kingdom, is talking about our expensive and ultimately pointless expedition. I spoke to an officer who was there—he's very smart and observant—and he told me that if we had attacked Rochfort right after we captured the island of Aix, we would have definitely succeeded. However, after we wasted eight or ten days on that island for reasons unknown, he believes trying to take it would have been impossible, since the French gathered a significant number of troops in the area during that time. Basically, there’s some secret behind the whole affair that hasn’t come to light yet, and I can’t shake off the suspicion that it originated from Stade. We didn’t have success there, and maybe we didn’t want an expedition we weren’t involved in or consulted about to succeed. M——t was our man, and sometimes a hint can go a long way. M——t is set to have a public trial, from which many expect big revelations—just not me.
Do you visit Soltikow, the Russian Minister, whose house, I am told, is the great scene of pleasures at Hamburg? His mistress, I take for granted, is by this time dead, and he wears some other body’s shackles. Her death comes with regard to the King of Prussia, ‘comme la moutarde apres diner’. I am curious to see what tyrant will succeed her, not by divine, but by military right; for, barbarous as they are now, and still more barbarous as they have been formerly, they have had very little regard to the more barbarous notion of divine, indefeasible, hereditary right.
Do you visit Soltikow, the Russian Minister? I've heard that his house is the main spot for entertainment in Hamburg. I assume his mistress is already dead, and he’s now shackled to someone else. Her death is quite timely concerning the King of Prussia, ‘like mustard after dinner.’ I'm curious to see which tyrant will take her place, not by divine right, but by military might; because, as barbaric as they are now, and even more so in the past, they’ve shown little concern for the even more barbaric idea of divine, indefeasible, hereditary right.
The Praetorian bands, that is, the guards, I presume, have been engaged in the interests of the Imperial Prince; but still I think that little John of Archangel will be heard upon this occasion, unless prevented by a quieting draught of hemlock or nightshade; for I suppose they are not arrived to the politer and genteeler poisons of Acqua Tufana,—[Acqua Tufana, a Neapolitan slow poison, resembling clear water, and invented by a woman at Naples, of the name of Tufana.]—sugar-plums, etc.
The Praetorian guards have been working for the Imperial Prince, but I still think that little John of Archangel will be heard this time, unless he's stopped by a calming dose of hemlock or nightshade. I guess they're not onto the more sophisticated and refined poisons like Acqua Tufana—[Acqua Tufana, a Neapolitan slow poison that looks like clear water, created by a woman named Tufana in Naples.]—sugar-plums, and so on.
Lord Halifax has accepted his old employment, with the honorary addition of the Cabinet Council. And so we heartily wish you a goodnight.
Lord Halifax has taken back his old job, now with the honorary title of the Cabinet Council. So, we sincerely wish you a good night.
LETTER CCXII
BATH, November 4, 1757
MY DEAR FRIEND: The Sons of Britain, like those of Noah, must cover their parent’s shame as well as they can; for to retrieve its honor is now too late. One would really think that our ministers and generals were all as drunk as the Patriarch was. However, in your situation, you must not be Cham; but spread your cloak over our disgrace, as far as it will go. M——t calls aloud for a public trial; and in that, and that only, the public agree with him. There will certainly be one, but of what kind is not yet fixed. Some are for a parliamentary inquiry, others for a martial one; neither will, in my opinion, discover the true secret; for a secret there most unquestionably is. Why we stayed six whole days in the island of Aix, mortal cannot imagine; which time the French employed, as it was obvious they would, in assembling their troops in the neighborhood of Rochfort, and making our attempt then really impracticable. The day after we had taken the island of Aix, your friend, Colonel Wolf, publicly offered to do the business with five hundred men and three ships only. In all these complicated political machines there are so many wheels, that it is always difficult, and sometimes im possible, to guess which of them gives direction to the whole. Mr. Pitt is convinced that the principal wheels, or, if you will, the spoke in his wheel, came from Stade. This is certain, at least that M——t was the man of confidence with that person. Whatever be the truth of the case, there is, to be sure, hitherto an ‘hiatus valde deflendus’.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The Sons of Britain, just like Noah's children, must do their best to cover their parent's shame, as it's too late to restore its honor now. One might really think our ministers and generals are as drunken as the Patriarch was. However, in your position, you must not be Cham; instead, cover our disgrace as much as you can. M——t is calling loudly for a public trial; and on this matter, the public agrees with him. There will definitely be one, but we don't yet know what kind. Some are pushing for a parliamentary inquiry, others for a military one; but neither, in my opinion, will reveal the real secret, which undoubtedly exists. Why we remained for six entire days on the island of Aix is beyond comprehension; the French, as we clearly expected, used that time to gather their troops near Rochfort, making our efforts truly unfeasible. The day after we captured the island of Aix, your friend, Colonel Wolf, publicly offered to handle the situation with just five hundred men and three ships. In all these complex political systems, there are so many moving parts that it's always tough, and sometimes impossible, to determine which one directs everything. Mr. Pitt believes that the main components, or if you prefer, the spoke in his wheel, originated from Stade. One thing is certain: M——t was the go-to person for that individual. Whatever the truth might be, there is certainly, to this point, a ‘hiatus valde deflendus’.
The meeting of the parliament will certainly be very numerous, were it only from curiosity: but the majority on the side of the Court will, I dare say, be a great one. The people of the late Captain-general, however inclined to oppose, will be obliged to concur. Their commissions, which they have no desire to lose, will make them tractable; for those gentlemen, though all men of honor, are of Sosia’s mind, ‘que le vrai Amphitrion est celui ou l’on dine’. The Tories and the city have engaged to support Pitt; the Whigs, the Duke of Newcastle; the independent and the impartial, as you well know, are not worth mentioning. It is said that the Duke intends to bring the affair of his Convention into parliament, for his own justification; I can hardly believe it; as I cannot conceive that transactions so merely electoral can be proper objects of inquiry or deliberation for a British parliament; and, therefore, should such a motion be made, I presume it will be immediately quashed. By the commission lately given to Sir John Ligonier, of General and Commander-in-chief of all his Majesty’s forces in Great Britain, the door seems to be not only shut, but bolted, against his Royal Highness’s return; and I have good reason to be convinced that that breach is irreparable. The reports of changes in the Ministry, I am pretty sure, are idle and groundless. The Duke of Newcastle and Mr. Pitt really agree very well; not, I presume, from any sentimental tenderness for each other, but from a sense that it is their mutual interest: and, as the late Captain-general’s party is now out of the question, I do not see what should produce the least change.
The parliament meeting is bound to be quite crowded, mostly out of curiosity. However, I expect the majority will lean toward the Court. Those people who supported the late Captain-general, even if they want to oppose, will have to go along with things. They don't want to lose their positions, which will make them compliant; because, even though they’re all honorable men, they think like Sosia, 'the real Amphitrion is where the dinner is.' The Tories and the city are committed to supporting Pitt, while the Whigs back the Duke of Newcastle. The independents and impartial folks, as you know, aren’t worth mentioning. It's rumored that the Duke plans to bring up his Convention in parliament for his own defense; I can hardly believe that, as I don’t see how purely electoral matters can be suitable topics for a British parliament. If such a motion is made, I assume it will be quickly dismissed. With Sir John Ligonier recently appointed as General and Commander-in-chief of all the King’s forces in Great Britain, it seems the door is not only closed but locked against his Royal Highness’s return, and I have strong reasons to believe that this rift is irreparable. I’m fairly certain the rumors of changes in the Ministry are baseless. The Duke of Newcastle and Mr. Pitt actually get along well, not because of any sentimental feelings for each other, but because it’s in their mutual interest. Since the late Captain-general’s party is no longer a factor, I don’t see what could possibly cause any changes.
The visit made lately to Berlin was, I dare say, neither a friendly nor an inoffensive one. The Austrians always leave behind them pretty lasting monuments of their visits, or rather visitations: not so much, I believe, from their thirst of glory, as from their hunger of prey.
The recent visit to Berlin, I can confidently say, was neither friendly nor harmless. The Austrians tend to leave behind pretty lasting marks from their visits, or rather invasions: not so much, I think, because of their desire for glory, but rather their craving for what they can take.
This winter, I take for granted, must produce a piece of some kind or another; a bad one for us, no doubt, and yet perhaps better than we should get the year after. I suppose the King of Prussia is negotiating with France, and endeavoring by those means to get out of the scrape with the loss only of Silesia, and perhaps Halberstadt, by way of indemnification to Saxony; and, considering all circumstances, he would be well off upon those terms. But then how is Sweden to be satisfied? Will the Russians restore Memel? Will France have been at all this expense ‘gratis’? Must there be no acquisition for them in Flanders? I dare say they have stipulated something of that sort for themselves, by the additional and secret treaty, which I know they made, last May, with the Queen of Hungary. Must we give up whatever the French please to desire in America, besides the cession of Minorca in perpetuity? I fear we must, or else raise twelve millions more next year, to as little purpose as we did this, and have consequently a worse peace afterward. I turn my eyes away, as much as I can, from this miserable prospect; but, as a citizen and member of society, it recurs to my imagination, notwithstanding all my endeavors to banish it from my thoughts. I can do myself nor my country no good; but I feel the wretched situation of both; the state of the latter makes me better bear that of the former; and, when I am called away from my station here, I shall think it rather (as Cicero says of Crassus) ‘mors donata quam vita erepta’.
This winter, I assume, must produce some kind of outcome; probably a bad one for us, but maybe better than what we'd get next year. I figure the King of Prussia is negotiating with France, trying to get out of this mess, losing only Silesia and maybe Halberstadt as compensation for Saxony. Considering everything, he might come out okay with those terms. But how will Sweden be satisfied? Will the Russians give back Memel? Will France really have spent all this without any compensation? Shouldn’t they gain something in Flanders? I bet they have something like that lined up for themselves in the secret treaty they made with the Queen of Hungary last May. Do we have to give up whatever the French want in America, along with permanently handing over Minorca? I’m afraid we will, or we’ll have to raise twelve million more next year, to as little effect as we did this year, and end up with an even worse peace. I try to look away from this terrible outlook as much as I can, but as a citizen and member of society, it keeps coming back to my mind, no matter how hard I try to push it away. I can’t do myself or my country any good; yet I feel the miserable situation of both. The state of my country helps me cope with my own situation; and when I'm eventually called away from my post here, I’ll think of it more as “a death given than a life taken,” as Cicero said about Crassus.
I have often desired, but in vain, the favor of being admitted into your private apartment at, Hamburg, and of being informed of your private life there. Your mornings, I hope and believe, are employed in business; but give me an account of the remainder of the day, which I suppose is, and ought to be, appropriated to amusements and pleasures. In what houses are you domestic? Who are so in yours? In short, let me in, and do not be denied to me.
I have often wanted, but without success, the chance to visit your private space in Hamburg and to learn about your personal life there. I hope your mornings are spent on work; however, please tell me about the rest of your day, which I assume is meant for fun and enjoyment. In which homes do you spend your time? Who is in yours? In short, let me in, and don’t shut me out.
Here I am, as usual, seeing few people, and hearing fewer; drinking the waters regularly to a minute, and am something the better for them. I read a great deal, and vary occasionally my dead company. I converse with grave folios in the morning, while my head is clearest and my attention strongest: I take up less severe quartos after dinner; and at night I choose the mixed company and amusing chit-chat of octavos and duodecimos. ‘Ye tire parti de tout ce gue je puis’; that is my philosophy; and I mitigate, as much as I can, my physical ills by diverting my attention to other objects.
Here I am, as usual, seeing a few people and hearing even fewer; drinking the mineral water regularly, and it's actually doing me some good. I read a lot and sometimes switch up my usual reading material. In the morning, when my mind is clearest and my focus is strongest, I engage with serious books. After lunch, I pick up lighter reads, and at night, I enjoy the mixed company and entertaining banter of novels and smaller formats. "I take part in everything I can"; that’s my philosophy, and I do my best to ease my physical discomfort by shifting my focus to other things.
Here is a report that Admiral Holborne’s fleet is destroyed, in a manner, by a storm: I hope it is not true, in the full extent of the report; but I believe it has suffered. This would fill up the measure of our misfortunes. Adieu.
Here’s a report that Admiral Holborne’s fleet was destroyed, supposedly, by a storm: I hope it’s not entirely true, but I believe it has been affected. This would add to our list of misfortunes. Goodbye.
LETTER CCXIII
BATH, November 20, 1757
MY DEAR FRIEND: I write to you now, because I love to write to you; and hope that my letters are welcome to you; for otherwise I have very little to inform you of. The King of Prussia’s late victory you are better informed, of than we are here. It has given infinite joy to the unthinking public, who are not aware that it comes too late in the year and too late in the war, to be attended with any very great consequences. There are six or seven thousand of the human species less than there were a month ago, and that seems to me to be all. However, I am glad of it, upon account of the pleasure and the glory which it gives the King of Prussia, to whom I wish well as a man, more than as a king. And surely he is so great a man, that had he lived seventeen or eighteen hundred years ago, and his life been transmitted to us in a language that we could not very well understand—I mean either Greek or Latin—we should have talked of him as we do now of your Alexanders, your Caesars, and others; with whom, I believe, we have but a very slight acquaintance. ‘Au reste’, I do not see that his affairs are much mended by this victory. The same combination of the great Powers of Europe against him still subsists, and must at last prevail. I believe the French army will melt away, as is usual, in Germany; but this army is extremely diminished by battles, fatigues, and desertion: and he will find great difficulties in recruiting it from his own already exhausted dominions. He must therefore, and to be sure will, negotiate privately with the French, and get better terms that way than he could any other.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I'm writing to you now because I enjoy it, and I hope my letters are welcome to you; otherwise, I don’t have much to share. You probably know more about the King of Prussia’s recent victory than we do here. It has brought immense joy to the unaware public, who don’t realize that it comes too late in the year and too late in the war to have any significant impact. There are six or seven thousand fewer people alive than there were a month ago, and that seems to be all that matters. Still, I'm glad for the pleasure and glory this brings to the King of Prussia, whom I wish well as a person, more than as a king. He is such a remarkable figure that if he had lived seventeen or eighteen hundred years ago, and his life had been recorded in a language we don't quite understand—like Greek or Latin—we would speak of him as we do your Alexanders, your Caesars, and others; with whom I think we only have a passing knowledge. As for the rest, I don’t see that his situation has improved much with this victory. The same coalition of the major European powers against him still exists and will ultimately prevail. I believe the French army will usually dwindle away in Germany; but this army has already been severely weakened by battles, exhaustion, and desertion: he will face significant challenges in replenishing it from his own already drained territories. Therefore, he must, and surely will, negotiate privately with the French and secure better terms that way than he could through any other means.
The report of the three general officers, the Duke of Marlborough, Lord George Sackville, and General Waldegrave, was laid before the King last Saturday, after their having sat four days upon M——t’s affair: nobody yet knows what it is; but it is generally believed that M——t will be brought to a court-martial. That you may not mistake this matter, as MOST people here do, I must explain to you, that this examination before the three above-mentioned general officers, was by no means a trial; but only a previous inquiry into his conduct, to see whether there was, or was not, cause to bring him to a regular trial before a court-martial. The case is exactly parallel to that of a grand jury; who, upon a previous and general examination, find, or do not find, a bill to bring the matter before the petty jury; where the fact is finally tried. For my own part, my opinion is fixed upon that affair: I am convinced that the expedition was to be defeated; and nothing that can appear before a court-martial can make me alter that opinion. I have been too long acquainted with human nature to have great regard for human testimony; and a very great degree of probability, supported by various concurrent circumstances, conspiring in one point, will have much greater weight with me, than human testimony upon oath, or even upon honor; both which I have frequently seen considerably warped by private views.
The report from the three generals, the Duke of Marlborough, Lord George Sackville, and General Waldegrave, was presented to the King last Saturday after they spent four days looking into M——t's situation. No one knows for sure what it is yet, but most people think M——t will face a court-martial. To clarify this matter, as most people here seem to misunderstand, the examination by these three generals was not a trial; it was simply a preliminary investigation into his conduct to determine whether there was enough reason to take him to a formal trial before a court-martial. This situation is exactly like that of a grand jury, which, after a general preliminary examination, decides whether or not to bring a case before a jury for a final trial. Personally, I have a firm opinion about this matter: I believe the expedition was doomed to fail, and nothing that comes up in a court-martial will change my mind. I’ve been around long enough to not put too much trust in human testimony; a high degree of likelihood, backed by various supporting circumstances pointing to one conclusion, carries much more weight for me than sworn testimony or even claims of honesty, both of which I’ve often seen heavily influenced by personal interests.
The parliament, which now stands prorogued to the first of next month, it is thought will be put off for some time longer, till we know in what light to lay before it the state of our alliance with Prussia, since the conclusion of the Hanover neutrality; which, if it did not quite break it, made at least a great flaw in it.
The parliament, which is currently on break until the first of next month, is expected to be delayed for a while longer until we figure out how to present the status of our alliance with Prussia following the Hanover neutrality agreement; this agreement, while not completely ending it, certainly caused a significant rift.
The birth-day was neither fine nor crowded; and no wonder, since the King was that day seventy-five. The old Court and the young one are much better together since the Duke’s retirement; and the King has presented the Prince of Wales with a service of plate.
The birthday was neither nice nor busy; and it's not surprising, since the King was turning seventy-five that day. The old Court and the young one get along much better since the Duke retired; and the King gave the Prince of Wales a set of silverware.
I am still UNWELL, though I drink these waters very regularly. I will stay here at least six weeks longer; where I am much quieter than I should be allowed to be in town. When things are in such a miserable situation as they are at present, I desire neither to be concerned nor consulted, still less quoted. Adieu!
I’m still not feeling great, even though I drink this water really regularly. I’ll be here for at least six more weeks, where it’s much calmer than it would be in town. When things are as bad as they are right now, I don’t want to be involved or asked for my opinion, let alone be quoted. Goodbye!
LETTER CCXIV
BATH, November 26, 1757
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received by the last mail your short account of the King of Prussia’s victory; which victory, contrary to custom, turns out more complete than it was at first reported to be. This appears by an intercepted letter from Monsieur de St. Germain to Monsieur d’Affry, at The Hague, in which he tells him, ‘Cette arme est entierement fondue’, and lays the blame, very strongly, upon Monsieur de Soubize. But, be it greater or be it less, I am glad of it; because the King of Prussia (whom I honor and almost adore) I am sure is. Though ‘d’ailleurs’, between you and me, ‘ou est-ce que cela mene’? To nothing, while that formidable union of three great Powers of Europe subsists against him, could that be any way broken, something might be done; without which nothing can. I take it for granted that the King of Prussia will do all he can to detach France. Why should not we, on our part, try to detach Russia? At least, in our present distress, ‘omnia tentanda’, and sometimes a lucky and unexpected hit turns up. This thought came into my head this morning; and I give it to you, not as a very probable scheme, but as a possible one, and consequently worth trying. The year of the Russian subsidies (nominally paid by the Court of Vienna, but really by France) is near expired. The former probably cannot, and perhaps the latter will not, renew them. The Court of Petersburg is beggarly, profuse, greedy, and by no means scrupulous. Why should not we step in there, and out-bid them? If we could, we buy a great army at once; which would give an entire new turn to the affairs of that part of the world at least. And if we bid handsomely, I do not believe the ‘bonne foi’ of that Court would stand in the way. Both our Court and our parliament would, I am very sure, give a very great sum, and very cheerfully, for this purpose. In the next place, Why should not you wriggle yourself, if possible, into so great a scheme? You are, no doubt, much acquainted with the Russian Resident, Soltikow; Why should you not sound him, as entirely from yourself, upon this subject? You may ask him, What, does your Court intend to go on next year in the pay of France, to destroy the liberties of all Europe, and throw universal monarchy into the hands of that already great and always ambitious Power? I know you think, or at least call yourselves, the allies of the Empress Queen; but is it not plain that she will be, in the first place, and you in the next, the dupes of France? At this very time you are doing the work of France and Sweden: and that for some miserable subsidies, much inferior to those which I am sure you might have, in a better cause, and more consistent with the true interest of Russia. Though not empowered, I know the manner of thinking of my own Court so well upon this subject, that I will venture to promise you much better terms than those you have now, without the least apprehensions of being disavowed. Should he listen to this, and what more may occur to you to say upon this subject, and ask you, ‘En ecrirai je d ma cour? Answer him, ‘Ecrivez, ecrivex, Monsieur hardiment’. Je prendrai tout cela sur moi’. Should this happen, as perhaps, and as I heartily wish it may, then write an exact relation of it to your own Court. Tell them that you thought the measure of such great importance, that you could not help taking this little step toward bringing it about; but that you mentioned it only as from yourself, and that you have not in the least committed them by it. If Soltikow lends himself in any degree to this, insinuate that, in the present situation of affairs, and particularly of the King’s Electoral dominions, you are very sure that his Majesty would have ‘une reconnoissance sans bornes’ for ALL those by whose means so desirable a revival of an old and long friendship should be brought about. You will perhaps tell me that, without doubt, Mr. Keith’s instructions are to the same effect: but I will answer you, that you can, IF YOU PLEASE, do it better than Mr. Keith; and in the next place that, be all that as it will, it must be very advantageous to you at home, to show that you have at least a contriving head, and an alertness in business.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your brief account of the King of Prussia’s victory in the last mail; this victory, unusually, turns out to be even more complete than initially reported. This is shown in an intercepted letter from Monsieur de St. Germain to Monsieur d’Affry in The Hague, where he states, “Cette arme est entierement fondue,” and places the blame heavily on Monsieur de Soubize. Regardless of the magnitude of the victory, I am pleased about it because I respect and almost worship the King of Prussia. However, frankly speaking, where does this lead us? To nothing, as long as the formidable alliance of three major Powers of Europe remains against him. If that could somehow be broken, something might be accomplished; without that, nothing can be done. I assume the King of Prussia will do everything he can to pull France away. Why shouldn't we try to pull Russia away as well? At the very least, in our current crisis, “omnia tentanda,” and sometimes a lucky and unexpected opportunity arises. This idea struck me this morning, and I share it with you, not as a highly probable plan, but as a feasible one worth considering. The year of the Russian subsidies (nominally paid by the Court of Vienna but actually by France) is almost up. The former likely cannot, and perhaps the latter will not, renew them. The Court of Petersburg is broke, extravagant, greedy, and definitely not scrupulous. Why shouldn’t we step in and outbid them? If we could, we’d instantly acquire a great army, which would significantly shift the dynamics in that part of the world. If we offer a substantial amount, I doubt that the “bonne foi” of that Court would obstruct us. I am certain both our Court and our parliament would gladly provide a considerable sum for this purpose. Next, why don’t you maneuver yourself into this significant endeavor if possible? You’re likely well-acquainted with the Russian Resident, Soltikow; why not gauge his thoughts on the matter, purely from yourself? You might ask him, "Does your Court plan to continue next year under the pay of France to undermine the liberties of all Europe and place universal monarchy into the hands of that already powerful and always ambitious nation? I know you consider yourselves allies of the Empress Queen, but isn’t it obvious that she will be the first victim, and you the next, of France's schemes? Right now, you are doing the work of France and Sweden for some pathetic subsidies, far less than what I’m sure you could secure for a better cause that aligns with Russia's true interests. Although I am not authorized, I understand my own Court’s thinking well enough to promise you much better terms than what you currently have, with no fear of being disavowed. If he responds to this, and you find more to say on this matter, and asks you, ‘Should I report this to my court?’ you should answer him, ‘Write, write boldly, Monsieur. I will take full responsibility for this.’ If that happens, as I hope it does, then write a detailed report of it to your own Court. Inform them that you deemed this matter so significant that you felt compelled to take this small step towards making it happen, but that you only mentioned it as your opinion, ensuring that you haven’t committed them in any way. If Soltikow is at all receptive to this, suggest that, given the current state of affairs, especially regarding the King’s Electoral territories, you are confident that his Majesty would be extremely grateful to ALL those who facilitate the revival of such a long-standing friendship. You might tell me that Mr. Keith’s instructions mirror this objective; I will counter that you can, IF YOU PLEASE, execute it better than Mr. Keith. Furthermore, regardless of how things turn out, it would definitely benefit you at home to demonstrate that you possess a creative mind and a keen sense of initiative in business.
I had a letter by the last post, from the Duke of Newcastle, in which he congratulates me, in his own name and in Lord Hardwicke’s, upon the approbation which your dispatches give, not only to them two, but to OTHERS. This success, so early, should encourage your diligence and rouse your ambition if you have any; you may go a great way, if you desire it, having so much time before you.
I received a letter in the last mail from the Duke of Newcastle, where he congratulates me, on his behalf and on behalf of Lord Hardwicke, for the approval your dispatches have received, not just from the two of them but from others as well. This early success should motivate your hard work and ignite your ambition, if you have any; you can go far if you want to, with so much time ahead of you.
I send you here inclosed the copy of the Report of the three general officers, appointed to examine previously into the conduct of General M——t; it is ill written, and ill spelled, but no matter; you will decipher it. You will observe, by the tenor of it, that it points strongly to a court-martial; which, no doubt, will soon be held upon him. I presume there will be no shooting in the final sentence; but I do suppose there will be breaking, etc.
I’m sending you the enclosed copy of the report from the three general officers who were tasked with reviewing the actions of General M——t. It's poorly written and has spelling mistakes, but that’s not important; you’ll figure it out. You'll notice that it clearly suggests a court-martial, which will likely happen soon. I doubt there will be any execution in the final decision, but I do think there will be some sort of punishment, etc.
I have had some severe returns of my old complaints last week, and am still unwell; I cannot help it.
I had a major flare-up of my old issues last week, and I'm still not feeling well; I can't help it.
A friend of yours arrived here three days ago; she seems to me to be a serviceable strong-bodied bay mare, with black mane and tail; you easily guess who I mean. She is come with mamma, and without ‘caro sposo’.
A friend of yours showed up here three days ago; she seems like a sturdy bay mare with a black mane and tail; you can probably guess who I'm talking about. She came with her mom, and not with her "dear husband."
Adieu! my head will not let me go on longer.
Adieu! My head won't let me continue any longer.
LETTER CCXV
BATH, December 31, 1757
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 18th, with the inclosed papers. I cannot help observing that, till then, you never acknowledged the receipt of any one of my letters.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I just received your letter from the 18th, along with the enclosed papers. I can't help but notice that, until now, you never acknowledged receiving any of my letters.
I can easily conceive that party spirit, among your brother ministers at Hamburg, runs as high as you represent it, because I can easily believe the errors of the human mind; but at the same time I must observe, that such a spirit is the spirit of little minds and subaltern ministers, who think to atone by zeal for their want of merit and importance. The political differences of the several courts should never influence the personal behavior of their several ministers toward one another. There is a certain ‘procede noble et galant’, which should always be observed among the ministers of powers even at war with each other, which will always turn out to the advantage of the ablest, who will in those conversations find, or make, opportunities of throwing out, or of receiving useful hints. When I was last at The Hague, we were at war with both France and Spain; so that I could neither visit, nor be visited by, the Ministers of those two Crowns; but we met every day, or dined at third places, where we embraced as personal friends, and trifled, at the same time, upon our being political enemies; and by this sort of badinage I discovered some things which I wanted to know. There is not a more prudent maxim than to live with one’s enemies as if they may one day become one’s friends; as it commonly happens, sooner or later, in the vicissitudes of political affairs.
I can easily imagine that the sense of rivalry among your fellow ministers in Hamburg is as intense as you say, because I understand the flaws of human judgment. However, I must point out that this kind of attitude reflects poorly on those with limited perspectives and less important roles, who believe that their fervor can make up for their lack of significance. The political disagreements between different courts should never affect how their ministers treat each other personally. There should always be a certain "noble and courteous approach" maintained among the ministers, even during conflicts, which ultimately benefits the most skilled individuals. In those situations, they can find or create chances to share or receive valuable insights. When I was last in The Hague, we were at war with both France and Spain, so I couldn't visit or be visited by their ministers. But we met every day or had meals at neutral locations, where we embraced like personal friends and joked about being political rivals; through this playful exchange, I learned things that I wanted to know. There's no wiser principle than to treat one's adversaries as if they might one day become allies, as is often the case in the twists and turns of political events.
To your question, which is a rational and prudent one, Whether I was authorized to give you the hints concerning Russia by any people in power here, I will tell you that I was not: but, as I had pressed them to try what might be done with Russia, and got Mr. Keith to be dispatched there some months sooner than otherwise, I dare say he would, with the proper instructions for that purpose. I wished that, by the hints I gave you, you might have got the start of him, and the merit, at least, of having ‘entame’ that matter with Soltikow. What you have to do with him now, when you meet with him at any third place, or at his own house (where you are at liberty to go, while Russia has a Minister in London, and we a Minister at Petersburg), is, in my opinion, to say to him, in an easy cheerful manner, ‘He bien, Monsieur, je me flatte que nous serons bientot amis publics, aussi bien qu’amis personels’. To which he will probably ask, Why, or how? You will reply, Because you know that Mr. Keith is gone to his Court with instructions, which you think must necessarily be agreeable there. And throw out to him that nothing but a change of their present system can save Livonia to Russia; for that he cannot suppose that, when the Swedes shall have recovered Pomerania they will long leave Russia in quiet possession of Livonia.
To answer your reasonable and sensible question about whether anyone in power here authorized me to give you information about Russia, I have to say no, they did not. However, since I encouraged them to see what could be done regarding Russia and arranged for Mr. Keith to be sent there earlier than planned, I'm sure he will have the right instructions for that purpose. I hoped that the hints I shared with you would give you a head start and the credit for initiating discussions with Soltikow. When you meet him now, whether at a third location or at his home (where you can freely go while Russia has a Minister in London and we have one in Petersburg), I think you should greet him in a friendly and upbeat way by saying, "Well, Monsieur, I hope we will soon be public friends, as well as personal friends." He'll likely ask you why or how. You should reply that you know Mr. Keith has gone to his court with instructions that should be well-received there. And mention that only a change in their current strategy can save Livonia for Russia, because he can’t believe that once the Swedes recover Pomerania, they will allow Russia to peacefully hold onto Livonia.
If he is so much a Frenchman as you say, he will make you some weak answers to this; but, as you will have the better of the argument on your side, you may remind him of the old and almost uninterrupted connection between France and Sweden, the inveterate enemy of Russia. Many other arguments will naturally occur to you in such a conversation, if you have it. In this case, there is a piece of ministerial art, which is sometimes of use; and that is, to sow jealousies among one’s enemies, by a seeming preference shown to some one of them. Monsieur Hecht’s reveries are reveries indeed. How should his Master have made the GOLDEN ARRANGEMENTS which he talks of, and which are to be forged into shackles for General Fermor? The Prussian finances are not in a condition now to make such expensive arrangements. But I think you may tell Monsieur Hecht, in confidence, that you hope the instructions with which you know that Mr. Keith is gone to Petersburg, may have some effect upon the measures of that Court.
If he’s really as much a Frenchman as you say, he’ll come up with some weak responses to this; however, since you’ll have the stronger argument, you can remind him of the long-standing connection between France and Sweden, Russia’s persistent enemy. You’ll likely think of many other points to make in that conversation, if it happens. In this situation, there’s a bit of political strategy that can be useful: create rivalries among your enemies by showing a preference for one of them. Monsieur Hecht's daydreams are just that—daydreams. How could his Master have made the GOLDEN ARRANGEMENTS he talks about, which are supposed to be turned into chains for General Fermor? The Prussian finances aren’t good enough right now to afford such costly arrangements. But you might want to tell Monsieur Hecht, in confidence, that you’re hopeful the instructions you know Mr. Keith has taken to Petersburg could influence that Court's decisions.
I would advise you to live with that same Monsieur Hecht in all the confidence, familiarity, and connection, which prudence will allow. I mean it with regard to the King of Prussia himself, by whom I could wish you to be known and esteemed as much as possible. It may be of use to you some day or other. If man, courage, conduct, constancy, can get the better of all the difficulties which the King of Prussia has to struggle with, he will rise superior to them. But still, while his alliance subsists against him, I dread ‘les gros escadrons’. His last victory, of the 5th, was certainly the completest that has been heard of these many years. I heartily wish the Prince of Brunswick just such a one over Monsieur de Richelieu’s army; and that he may take my old acquaintance the Marechal, and send him over here to polish and perfume us.
I recommend that you live with Monsieur Hecht with as much trust, familiarity, and connection as prudence allows. I truly mean this regarding the King of Prussia himself, as I hope you can be known and respected by him as much as possible. It might benefit you someday. If there’s anyone who can overcome all the challenges the King of Prussia faces with strength, determination, and resilience, it will be him. However, as long as his alliance is against him, I’m worried about ‘les gros escadrons’. His last victory on the 5th was, without a doubt, the most complete triumph we’ve heard of in many years. I sincerely wish the Prince of Brunswick achieves a similar victory over Monsieur de Richelieu’s army; and that he can bring my old acquaintance the Marechal here to polish and refine us.
I heartily wish you, in the plain, home-spun style, a great number of happy new years, well employed in forming both your mind and your manners, to be useful and agreeable to yourself, your country, and your friends! That these wishes are sincere, your secretary’s brother will, by the time of your receiving this, have remitted you a proof, from Yours.
I sincerely wish you a lot of happy new years, spent improving both your mind and your manners, to be helpful and pleasant for yourself, your country, and your friends! Your secretary’s brother will have sent you a confirmation of these genuine wishes by the time you get this.
LETTER CCXVI
LONDON, February 8, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received by the same post your two letters of the 13th and 17th past; and yesterday that of the 27th, with the Russian manifesto inclosed, in which her Imperial Majesty of all the Russias has been pleased to give every reason, except the true one, for the march of her troops against the King of Prussia. The true one, I take it to be, that she has just received a very great sum of money from France, or the Empress queen, or both, for that purpose. ‘Point d’argent, point de Russe’, is now become a maxim. Whatever may be the motive of their march, the effects must be bad; and, according to my speculations, those troops will replace the French in Hanover and Lower Saxony; and the French will go and join the Austrian army. You ask me if I still despond? Not so much as I did after the battle of Colen: the battles of Rosbach and Lissa were drams to me, and gave me some momentary spirts: but though I do not absolutely despair, I own I greatly distrust. I readily allow the King of Prussia to be ‘nec pluribus impar’; but still, when the ‘plures’ amount to a certain degree of plurality, courage and abilities must yield at last. Michel here assures me that he does not mind the Russians; but, as I have it from the gentleman’s own mouth, I do not believe him. We shall very soon send a squadron to the Baltic to entertain the Swedes; which I believe will put an end to their operations in Pomerania; so that I have no great apprehensions from that quarter; but Russia, I confess, sticks in my stomach.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your two letters from the 13th and 17th of last month, along with your letter from the 27th yesterday, which had the Russian manifesto enclosed. In it, her Imperial Majesty of all the Russias has given every reason, except the real one, for her troops marching against the King of Prussia. The real reason, I believe, is that she just got a large sum of money from France, the Empress Queen, or both, for that purpose. 'No money, no Russians' has become a saying now. Whatever their motive might be, the consequences will be bad; and based on my thoughts, those troops will replace the French in Hanover and Lower Saxony, while the French will join the Austrian army. You ask if I'm still feeling hopeless? Not as much as I was after the battle of Colen: the battles of Rosbach and Lissa offered me a bit of hope and some brief lifts in spirits. But while I don’t totally despair, I admit I have serious doubts. I readily acknowledge that the King of Prussia is 'incomparable' on many levels; however, when the 'many' reaches a certain point, courage and skill will eventually falter. Michel assures me here that he isn't worried about the Russians; but since I've heard it from him directly, I don’t believe him. We will soon send a squadron to the Baltic to entertain the Swedes, which I believe will put an end to their actions in Pomerania. So I don't have much worry from that direction, but Russia, I admit, is a concern for me.
Everything goes smoothly in parliament; the King of Prussia has united all our parties in his support; and the Tories have declared that they will give Mr. Pitt unlimited credit for this session; there has not been one single division yet upon public points, and I believe will not. Our American expedition is preparing to go soon; the dis position of that affair seems to me a little extraordinary. Abercrombie is to be the sedantary, and not the acting commander; Amherst, Lord Howe, and Wolfe, are to be the acting, and I hope the active officers. I wish they may agree. Amherst, who is the oldest officer, is under the influence of the same great person who influenced Mordaunt, so much to honor and advantage of this country. This is most certain, that we have force enough in America to eat up the French alive in Canada, Quebec, and Louisburg, if we have but skill and spirit enough to exert it properly; but of that I am modest enough to doubt.
Everything is going well in parliament; the King of Prussia has brought all our parties together in his support, and the Tories have announced that they will give Mr. Pitt unlimited credit for this session. There hasn’t been a single division yet on public issues, and I believe there won’t be. Our American expedition is preparing to leave soon; the situation with that seems a bit unusual to me. Abercrombie is set to be the sedentary commander, and not the acting commander; Amherst, Lord Howe, and Wolfe are going to be the active commanders, and I hope they will also be the engaged officers. I hope they can work together. Amherst, who is the senior officer, is influenced by the same important person who influenced Mordaunt, which was very beneficial for this country. It’s quite certain that we have enough force in America to defeat the French in Canada, Quebec, and Louisburg, if we just have the skill and determination to use it effectively; but I’m modest enough to have doubts about that.
When you come to the egotism, which I have long desired you to come to with me, you need make no excuses for it. The egotism is as proper and as satisfactory to one’s friends, as it is impertinent and misplaced with strangers. I desire to see you in your every-day clothes, by your fireside, in your pleasures; in short, in your private life; but I have not yet been able to obtain this. Whenever you condescend to do it, as you promise, stick to truth; for I am not so uninformed of Hamburg as perhaps you may think.
When you finally get to the egotism I've been wanting you to share with me, you don’t need to make any excuses for it. Egotism is just as appropriate and satisfying for friends as it is rude and out of place with strangers. I want to see you in your everyday clothes, relaxing by your fire, enjoying your hobbies—basically, in your personal life—but I haven't managed to see that yet. Whenever you feel like doing it, as you promised, just be genuine; I'm more familiar with Hamburg than you might think.
As for myself, I am very UNWELL, and very weary of being so; and with little hopes, at my age, of ever being otherwise. I often wish for the end of the wretched remnant of my life; and that wish is a rational one; but then the innate principle of self-preservation, wisely implanted in our natures for obvious purposes, opposes that wish, and makes us endeavor to spin out our thread as long as we can, however decayed and rotten it may be; and, in defiance of common sense, we seek on for that chymic gold, which beggars us when old.
As for me, I feel really unwell and I'm tired of it; and at my age, I have little hope of feeling any different. I often find myself wishing for the end of this miserable part of my life; and I think that’s a reasonable wish. But then, the natural instinct for self-preservation, which is smartly built into us for clear reasons, pushes against that desire and makes us try to extend our lives as long as possible, no matter how worn out and broken we might be. In spite of all logic, we keep searching for that alchemical gold, which leaves us impoverished when we grow old.
Whatever your amusements, or pleasures, may be at Hamburg, I dare say you taste them more sensibly than ever you did in your life, now that you have business enough to whet your appetite to them. Business, one-half of the day, is the best preparation for the pleasures of the other half. I hope, and believe, that it will be with you as it was with an apothecary whom I knew at Twickenham. A considerable estate fell to him by an unexpected accident; upon which he thought it decent to leave off his business; accordingly he generously gave up his shop and his stock to his head man, set up his coach, and resolved to live like a gentleman; but, in less than a month, the man, used to business, found, that living like a gentleman was dying of ennui; upon which he bought his shop and stock, resumed his trade, and lived very happily, after he had something to do. Adieu.
Whatever your fun or pleasures may be in Hamburg, I'm sure you're enjoying them more than ever now that you have enough work to make you appreciate them. Having business for half the day is the best way to prepare for the enjoyment of the other half. I hope, and believe, your experience will be like that of an apothecary I knew in Twickenham. He unexpectedly inherited a large estate and decided to stop working. So, he generously handed over his shop and stock to his assistant, got himself a coach, and intended to live like a gentleman. But within a month, he realized that living like a gentleman was just boring. So, he bought back his shop and stock, got back to his trade, and was very happy once he had something to occupy his time. Goodbye.
LETTER CCXVII
LONDON, February 24, 1758
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 2d instant, with the inclosed; which I return you, that there may be no chasm in your papers. I had heard before of Burrish’s death, and had taken some steps thereupon; but I very soon dropped that affair, for ninety-nine good reasons; the first of which was, that nonody is to go in his room, and that, had he lived, he was to have been recalled from Munich. But another reason, more flattering for you, was, that you could not be spared from Hamburg. Upon the whole, I am not sorry for it, as the place where you are now is the great entrepot of business; and, when it ceases to be so, you will necessarily go to some of the courts in the neighborhood (Berlin, I hope and believe), which will be a much more desirable situation than to rush at Munich, where we can never have any business beyond a subsidy. Do but go on, and exert yourself were you are, and better things will soon follow.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter dated the 2nd yesterday, along with the enclosed document, which I’m returning to you so that there’s no gap in your files. I had already heard about Burrish’s death and had taken some action regarding it, but I quickly dropped the matter for a hundred valid reasons. The first was that no one was allowed in his room, and had he lived, he would have been called back from Munich. Another reason, which is more flattering for you, is that you couldn’t be replaced in Hamburg. Overall, I’m not upset about it, as the place where you are now is the main hub of business; when that changes, you will inevitably move on to some of the courts nearby (I hope and believe Berlin), which would be a much better position than dealing with Munich, where we will never have any business beyond a subsidy. Just keep pushing yourself where you are, and better opportunities will come soon.
Surely the inaction of our army at Hanover continues too long. We expected wonders from it some time ago, and yet nothing is attempted. The French will soon receive reinforcements, and then be too strong for us; whereas they are now most certainly greatly weakened by desertion, sickness, and deaths. Does the King of Prussia send a body of men to our army or not? or has the march of the Russians cut him out work for all his troops? I am afraid it has. If one body of Russians joins the Austrian army in Moravia, and another body the Swedes in Pomerania, he will have his hands very full, too full, I fear. The French say they will have an army of 180,000 men in Germany this year; the Empress Queen will have 150,000; if the Russians have but 40,000, what can resist such a force? The King of Prussia may say, indeed, with more justice than ever any one person could before him, ‘Moi. Medea superest’.
Surely, our army's inactivity at Hanover is lasting way too long. We expected remarkable results from it some time ago, yet nothing has been done. The French will soon get reinforcements, making them too strong for us, even though they are currently weakened by desertion, illness, and deaths. Is the King of Prussia sending troops to our army or not? Or has the movement of the Russians kept him too busy to spare any men? I'm worried it has. If one group of Russians joins the Austrian army in Moravia, and another joins the Swedes in Pomerania, he will have his hands full, too full, I fear. The French claim they will have an army of 180,000 men in Germany this year; the Empress Queen will have 150,000. If the Russians only have 40,000, what can stand against such a force? The King of Prussia can truly say, more justly than anyone before him, ‘Moi. Medea superest’.
You promised the some egotism; but I have received none yet. Do you frequent the Landgrave? ‘Hantex vous les grands de la terre’? What are the connections of the evening? All this, and a great deal more of this kind, let me know in your next.
You promised some self-importance, but I haven't seen any yet. Do you hang out with the Landgrave? Are you rubbing elbows with the powerful? What's the scoop on the evening? All this, and a lot more like it, share with me in your next message.
The House of Commons is still very unanimous. There was a little popular squib let off this week, in a motion of Sir John Glynne’s, seconded by Sir John Philips, for annual parliaments. It was a very cold scent, and put an end to by a division of 190 to 70.
The House of Commons is still very united. There was a small public outburst this week with a motion from Sir John Glynne, seconded by Sir John Philips, calling for annual parliaments. It was met with indifference and was shut down by a vote of 190 to 70.
Good-night. Work hard, that you may divert yourself well.
Good night. Work hard so you can enjoy yourself later.
LETTER CCXVIII
LONDON, March 4, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I should have been much more surprised at the contents of your letter of the 17th past, if I had not happened to have seen Sir C. W., about three or four hours before I received it. I thought he talked in an extraordinary manner; he engaged that the King of Prussia should be master of Vienna in the month of May; and he told me that you were very much in love with his daughter. Your letter explained all this to me; and next day, Lord and Lady E——-gave me innumerable instances of his frenzy, with which I shall not trouble you. What inflamed it the more (if it did not entirely occasion it) was a great quantity of cantharides, which, it seems, he had taken at Hamburgh, to recommend himself, I suppose, to Mademoiselle John. He was let blood four times on board the ship, and has been let blood four times since his arrival here; but still the inflammation continues very high. He is now under the care of his brothers, who do not let him go abroad. They have written to this same Mademoiselle John, to prevent if they can, her coming to England, and told her the case; which, when she hears she must be as mad as he is, if she takes the journey. By the way, she must be ‘une dame aventuriere’, to receive a note for 10,000 roubles from a man whom she had known but three days! to take a contract of marriage, knowing he was married already; and to engage herself to follow him to England. I suppose this is not the first adventure of the sort which she has had.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I would have been much more surprised by your letter from the 17th if I hadn't seen Sir C. W. about three or four hours before receiving it. He spoke in a very strange way; he claimed that the King of Prussia would take control of Vienna in May, and he mentioned that you were very much in love with his daughter. Your letter clarified all of this for me, and the next day, Lord and Lady E——-gave me countless examples of his craziness, which I won't bother you with. What seemed to escalate it (if it didn’t cause it entirely) was a large amount of cantharides he took in Hamburg, probably to impress Mademoiselle John. He was bled four times on the ship and has been bled four more times since he arrived here, but the inflammation is still very serious. He is now under the care of his brothers, who won’t let him go out. They’ve written to the same Mademoiselle John to try to stop her from coming to England, and they’ve informed her of the situation, which, if she hears it, should make her just as crazy as he is if she decides to come. By the way, she must be quite the adventurer to accept a note for 10,000 roubles from a man she had only known for three days! To enter a marriage contract knowing he was already married, and to agree to follow him to England—this can’t be her first adventure of this kind.
After the news we received yesterday, that the French had evacuated Hanover, all but Hamel, we daily expect much better. We pursue them, we cut them off ‘en detail’, and at last we destroy their whole army. I wish it may happen; and, moreover, I think it not impossible.
After the news we got yesterday that the French had pulled out of Hanover, except for Hamel, we're counting on much better days ahead. We're chasing them down, cutting them off one by one, and eventually, we'll wipe out their entire army. I hope that happens, and honestly, I don’t think it’s impossible.
My head is much out of order, and only allows me to wish you good-night.
My head is really a mess, and all I can do is wish you good night.
LETTER CCXIX
LONDON, March 22, 1758
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now your letter of the 8th lying before me, with the favorable account of our progress in Lower Saxony, and reasonable prospect of more decisive success. I confess I did not expect this, when my friend Munchausen took his leave of me, to go to Stade, and break the neutrality; I thought it at least a dangerous, but rather a desperate undertaking; whereas, hitherto, it has proved a very fortunate one. I look upon the French army as ‘fondue’; and, what with desertion, deaths, and epidemical distempers, I dare say not a third of it will ever return to France. The great object is now, what the Russians can or will do; and whether the King of Prussia can hinder their junction with the Austrians, by beating either, before they join. I will trust him for doing all that can be done.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have your letter from the 8th in front of me, detailing our progress in Lower Saxony and the reasonable chance of more decisive success. I admit I didn’t expect this when my friend Munchausen left to go to Stade and break neutrality; I thought it was a risky and rather desperate move. However, so far, it has turned out to be quite fortunate. I view the French army as if it were melting away; with desertions, deaths, and epidemics, I believe that not even a third of them will make it back to France. The main concern now is what the Russians can or will do, and whether the King of Prussia can prevent them from joining forces with the Austrians by defeating one of them before they unite. I have faith that he will do everything possible.
Sir C. W. is still in confinement, and, I fear, will always be so, for he seems ‘cum ratione insanire’; the physicians have collected all he has said and done that indicated an alienation of mind, and have laid it before him in writing; he has answered it in writing too, and justifies himself in the most plausible arguments than can possibly be urged. He tells his brother, and the few who are allowed to see him, that they are such narrow and contracted minds themselves, that they take those for mad who have a great and generous way of thinking; as, for instance, when he determined to send his daughter over to you in a fortnight, to be married, without any previous agreement or settlements, it was because he had long known you, and loved you as a man of sense and honor; and therefore would not treat with you as with an attorney. That as for Mademoiselle John, he knew her merit and her circumstances; and asks, whether it is a sign of madness to have a due regard for the one, and a just compassion for the other. I will not tire you with enumerating any more instances of the poor man’s frenzy; but conclude this subject with pitying him, and poor human nature, which holds its reason by so precarious a tenure. The lady, who you tell me is set out, ‘en sera pour la seine et les fraix du voyage’, for her note is worth no more than her contract. By the way, she must be a kind of ‘aventuriere’, to engage so easily in such an adventure with a man whom she had not known above a week, and whose ‘debut’ of 10,000 roubles showed him not to be in his right senses.
Sir C. W. is still locked up, and I’m afraid he always will be, because he seems to be “mad with reason.” The doctors have gathered everything he’s said and done that suggests he's lost his mind and presented it to him in writing; he has replied in writing as well, defending himself with some of the most convincing arguments one could make. He tells his brother and the few who are allowed to visit him that their minds are so narrow and limited that they consider those who think deeply and generously to be mad. For example, when he decided to send his daughter to you in two weeks to get married, without any prior agreements or settlements, it was because he had known you for a long time and regarded you as a man of sense and honor. Therefore, he wouldn’t treat with you like you’re some kind of lawyer. As for Mademoiselle John, he is aware of her worth and her situation; he asks if it’s madness to care properly for one and to feel genuine compassion for the other. I won’t bore you with more examples of the poor man's madness, but I’ll end this topic by expressing pity for him, and for poor human nature, which holds onto its sanity by such a fragile thread. The lady, whom you say has set out, “en sera pour la seine et les fraix du voyage,” because her note isn’t worth more than her contract. By the way, she must be a bit of an “adventuress” to so easily get involved in such a venture with a man she has hardly known for a week, and whose introduction of 10,000 roubles shows he is not in his right mind.
You will probably have seen General Yorke, by this time, in his way to Berlin or Breslau, or wherever the King of Prussia may be. As he keeps his commission to the States General, I presume he is not to stay long with his Prussian Majesty; but, however, while he is there, take care to write to him very constantly, and to give all the information you can. His father, Lord Hardwicke, is your great puff: he commends your office letters, exceedingly. I would have the Berlin commission your object, in good time; never lose view of it. Do all you can to recommend yourself to the King of Prussia on your side of the water, and to smooth your way for that commission on this; by the turn which things have taken of late, it must always be the most important of all foreign commissions from hence.
By now, you’ve probably seen General Yorke on his way to Berlin or Breslau, or wherever the King of Prussia might be. Since he’s still working with the States General, I assume he won't be with his Prussian Majesty for long; however, while he’s there, make sure to write to him frequently and provide as much information as you can. His father, Lord Hardwicke, is your biggest supporter: he really praises your office letters. I want you to focus on the Berlin commission as your goal, and never lose sight of it. Do everything you can to make a good impression on the King of Prussia from your side of the water, and to clear your path for that commission here; given how things have changed lately, it should always be considered the most important of all foreign commissions from here.
I have no news to send you, as things here are extremely quiet; so, good-night.
I don't have any news to share since things are really calm here, so good night.
LETTER CCXX
LONDON, April 25, 1758.
DEAR FRIEND: I am now two letters in your debt, which I think is the first time that ever I was so, in the long course of our correspondence. But, besides that my head has been very much out of order of late, writing is by no means that easy thing that it was to me formerly. I find by experience, that the mind and the body are more than married, for they are most intimately united; and when the one suffers, the other sympathizes. ‘Non sum qualis eram’: neither my memory nor my invention are now what they formerly were. It is in a great measure my own fault; I cannot accuse Nature, for I abused her; and it is reasonable I should suffer for it.
DEAR FRIEND: I'm currently two letters behind on our correspondence, which I believe is the first time that's happened. Recently, my head has been quite out of sorts, and writing is no longer as easy for me as it used to be. I've realized that the mind and body are more than just linked; they're deeply connected. When one is struggling, the other feels it too. 'Non sum qualis eram': neither my memory nor my creativity is what it used to be. It's largely my own fault; I can't blame Nature, as I've mistreated her, and it's fair that I should face the consequences.
I do not like the return of the impression upon your lungs; but the rigor of the cold may probably have brought it upon you, and your lungs not in fault. Take care to live very cool, and let your diet be rather low.
I don't like that you're having trouble with your lungs again; but the cold weather might have caused it, and it's not your lungs' fault. Make sure to stay cool and eat a light diet.
We have had a second winter here, more severe than the first, at least it seemed so, from a premature summer that we had, for a fortnight, in March; which brought everything forward, only to be destroyed. I have experienced it at Blackheath, where the promise of fruit was a most flattering one, and all nipped in the bud by frost and snow, in April. I shall not have a single peach or apricot.
We’ve had a second winter here, and it’s worse than the first, or at least it felt that way after an early summer we had for two weeks in March; it made everything start to bloom, only to have it all ruined. I’ve seen this happen at Blackheath, where the promise of fruit looked really good, but everything got frozen out by frost and snow in April. I won’t have a single peach or apricot.
I have nothing to tell you from hence concerning public affairs, but what you read in the newspapers. This only is extraordinary: that last week, in the House of Commons, above ten millions were granted, and the whole Hanover army taken into British pay, with but one single negative, which was Mr. Viner’s.
I don't have anything to share with you about public affairs beyond what you read in the newspapers. The only remarkable thing is that last week, in the House of Commons, over ten million was approved, and the entire Hanover army was put on British payroll, with just one dissent, which was from Mr. Viner.
Mr. Pitt gains ground in the closet, and yet does not lose it in the public. That is new.
Mr. Pitt is making progress behind the scenes, yet he isn’t losing support in public. That’s something new.
Monsieur Kniphausen has dined with me; he is one of the prettiest fellows I have seen; he has, with a great deal of life and fire, ‘les manieres d’un honnete homme, et le ton de la Parfaitement bonne compagnie’. You like him yourself; try to be like him: it is in your power.
Monsieur Kniphausen has had dinner with me; he is one of the most charming guys I’ve ever seen. He has a lot of energy and enthusiasm, with the manners of a gentleman and the style of perfectly good company. You like him too; try to be like him: you can do it.
I hear that Mr. Mitchel is to be recalled, notwithstanding the King of Prussia’s instances to keep him. But why, is a secret that I cannot penetrate.
I hear that Mr. Mitchel is going to be recalled, despite the King of Prussia's requests to keep him. But why that is, remains a mystery to me.
You will not fail to offer the Landgrave, and the Princess of Hesse (who I find are going home), to be their agent and commissioner at Hamburg.
You won’t miss the chance to offer the Landgrave and the Princess of Hesse (who I see are going home) to be their representative and commissioner in Hamburg.
I cannot comprehend the present state of Russia, nor the motions of their armies. They change their generals once a week; sometimes they march with rapidity, and now they lie quiet behind the Vistula. We have a thousand stories here of the interior of that government, none of which I believe. Some say, that the Great Duke will be set aside.
I can’t understand the current situation in Russia or the movements of their armies. They switch their generals every week; sometimes they move quickly, and now they’re just sitting quietly behind the Vistula. We have countless rumors here about what’s happening in that government, but I don’t believe any of them. Some people say that the Great Duke will be replaced.
Woronzoff is said to be entirely a Frenchman, and that Monsieur de l’Hopital governs both him and the court. Sir C. W. is said, by his indiscretions, to have caused the disgrace of Bestuchef, which seems not impossible. In short, everything of every kind is said, because, I believe, very little is truly known. ‘A propos’ of Sir C. W.; he is out of confinement, and gone to his house in the country for the whole summer. They say he is now very cool and well. I have seen his Circe, at her window in Pall-Mall; she is painted, powdered, curled, and patched, and looks ‘l’aventure’. She has been offered, by Sir C. W——‘s friends, L500 in full of all demands, but will not accept of it. ‘La comtesse veut plaider’, and I fancy ‘faire autre chose si elle peut. Jubeo to bene valere.
Woronzoff is said to be completely French, and that Monsieur de l’Hopital controls both him and the court. Sir C. W. is rumored to have caused Bestuchef’s disgrace through his indiscretions, which doesn’t seem impossible. In short, there are all sorts of rumors because I believe very little is actually known. Speaking of Sir C. W.; he’s out of confinement and has gone to his house in the countryside for the summer. People say he’s now quite relaxed and well. I’ve seen his Circe at her window in Pall-Mall; she’s painted, powdered, curled, and patched, and looks like quite the adventure. Sir C. W.'s friends have offered her £500 to settle all matters, but she refuses to take it. The countess wants to litigate, and I suspect she wants to do something else if she can. Jubeo to bene valere.
LETTER CCXXI
BLACKHEATH, May 18, O. S. 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have your letter of the 9th now before me, and condole with you upon the present solitude and inaction of Hamburg. You are now shrunk from the dignity and importance of a consummate minister, to be but, as it were, a common man. But this has, at one time or another, been the case of most great men; who have not always had equal opportunities of exerting their talents. The greatest must submit to the capriciousness of fortune; though they can, better than others, improve the favorable moments. For instance, who could have thought, two years ago, that you would have been the Atlas of the Northern Pole; but the Good Genius of the North ordered it so; and now that you have set that part of the globe right, you return to ‘otium cum dignitate’. But to be serious: now that you cannot have much office business to do, I could tell you what to do, that would employ you, I should think, both usefully and agreeably. I mean, that you should write short memoirs of that busy scene, in which you have been enough concerned, since your arrival at Hamburg, to be able to put together authentic facts and anecdotes. I do not know whether you will give yourself the trouble to do it or not; but I do know, that if you will, ‘olim hcec meminisse juvabit’. I would have them short, but correct as to facts and dates.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have your letter from the 9th in front of me, and I sympathize with you over the current loneliness and inactivity in Hamburg. You’ve gone from being a respected minister to feeling like just an ordinary person. But, at some point, this has happened to almost all great individuals; they don’t always have the same opportunities to showcase their talents. Even the greatest have to deal with the unpredictability of fate; however, they are often better at seizing lucky moments. For example, who could have imagined two years ago that you would be the Atlas of the Northern Pole? But the Good Genius of the North decided it, and now that you’ve sorted out that part of the world, you can return to ‘otium cum dignitate’. But on a serious note: since you probably don’t have much office work to tackle, I have a suggestion for you that might keep you engaged in a useful and enjoyable way. I think you should write short memoirs about the busy period you’ve been involved in since arriving in Hamburg, which would let you compile accurate facts and anecdotes. I’m not sure if you’ll take the time to do this, but I do know that if you do, ‘olim hcec meminisse juvabit’. I’d like them to be brief but accurate regarding facts and dates.
I have told Alt, in the strongest manner, your lamentations for the loss of the House of Cassel, ‘et il en fera rapport a son Serenissime Maitre’. When you are quite idle (as probably you may be, some time this summer), why should you not ask leave to make a tour to Cassel for a week? which would certainly be granted you from hence, and which would be looked upon as a ‘bon procede’ at Cassel.
I have told Alt, in no uncertain terms, about your sadness over the loss of the House of Cassel, and he will report it to his Most Serene Master. When you find yourself with some free time (which you might this summer), why not ask for permission to take a week-long trip to Cassel? It would definitely be granted from here and would be seen as a good move in Cassel.
The King of Prussia is probably, by this time, at the gates of Vienna, making the Queen of Hungary really do what Monsieur de Bellisle only threatened; sign a peace upon the ramparts of her capital. If she is obstinate, and will not, she must fly either to Presburg or to Inspruck, and Vienna must fall. But I think he will offer her reasonable conditions enough for herself; and I suppose, that, in that case, Caunitz will be reasonable enough to advise her to accept of them. What turn would the war take then? Would the French and Russians carry it on without her? The King of Prussia, and the Prince of Brunswick, would soon sweep them out of Germany. By this time, too, I believe, the French are entertained in America with the loss of Cape Breton; and, in consequence of that, Quebec; for we have a force there equal to both those undertakings, and officers there, now, that will execute what Lord L———never would so much as attempt. His appointments were too considerable to let him do anything that might possibly put an end to the war. Lord Howe, upon seeing plainly that he was resolved to do nothing, had asked leave to return, as well as Lord Charles Hay.
The King of Prussia is probably, by now, at the gates of Vienna, forcing the Queen of Hungary to actually do what Monsieur de Bellisle only threatened: sign a peace deal on the ramparts of her capital. If she refuses, she’ll have to flee to either Presburg or Innsbruck, and Vienna will fall. But I think he’ll offer her reasonable enough terms, and I assume that, in that case, Caunitz will be sensible enough to advise her to accept them. What direction would the war take then? Would the French and Russians continue fighting without her? The King of Prussia and the Prince of Brunswick would quickly push them out of Germany. By now, I also believe the French are distracted in America by the loss of Cape Breton, and as a result, Quebec; because we have a force there capable of handling both those situations, and officers there now who will do what Lord L———never even attempted. His rank was too significant for him to take any actions that might risk ending the war. Lord Howe, seeing clearly that he was set on doing nothing, requested to return, just like Lord Charles Hay.
We have a great expedition preparing, and which will soon be ready to sail from the Isle of Wight; fifteen thousand good troops, eighty battering cannons, besides mortars, and every other thing in abundance, fit for either battle or siege. Lord Anson desired, and is appointed, to command the fleet employed upon this expedition; a proof that it is not a trifling one. Conjectures concerning its destination are infinite; and the most ignorant are, as usual, the boldest conjecturers. If I form any conjectures, I keep them to myself, not to be disproved by the event; but, in truth, I form none: I might have known, but would not.
We have a big expedition getting ready, and it will soon set sail from the Isle of Wight; fifteen thousand solid troops, eighty heavy cannons, plus mortars and everything else in abundance, ready for either battle or a siege. Lord Anson has requested and has been appointed to lead the fleet for this expedition; a sign that it’s a serious one. There are countless theories about where it’s headed; and as usual, the least informed are the most confident in their guesses. If I have any theories, I keep them to myself, so I won’t be proven wrong later; but honestly, I don’t have any: I could have found out, but I didn’t want to.
Everything seems to tend to a peace next winter: our success in America, which is hardly doubtful, and the King of Prussia’s in Germany, which is as little so, will make France (already sick of the expense of the war) very tractable for a peace. I heartily wish it: for though people’s heads are half turned with the King of Prussia’s success, and will be quite turned, if we have any in America, or at sea, a moderate peace will suit us better than this immoderate war of twelve millions a year.
Everything seems to be heading towards peace by next winter: our success in America, which is pretty much guaranteed, and the King of Prussia’s in Germany, which is just as certain, will make France (already tired of the costs of the war) very open to a peace agreement. I sincerely hope for this: because even though people are somewhat losing their minds over the King of Prussia’s success, and will go completely wild if we have any victories in America or at sea, a reasonable peace would benefit us more than this excessive war costing twelve million a year.
Domestic affairs go just as they did; the Duke of Newcastle and Mr. Pitt jog on like man and wife; that is, seldom agreeing, often quarreling; but by mutual interest, upon the whole, not parting. The latter, I am told, gains ground in the closet; though he still keeps his strength in the House, and his popularity in the public; or, perhaps, because of that.
Domestic affairs continue as usual; the Duke of Newcastle and Mr. Pitt move along like a married couple; that is, they rarely see eye to eye and often argue, but due to their shared interests, they generally stay together. I’ve heard that the latter is gaining influence behind closed doors; although he still maintains his power in the House and his popularity with the public—or maybe that's part of the reason.
Do you hold your resolution of visiting your dominions of Bremen and Lubeck this summer? If you do, pray take the trouble of informing yourself correctly of the several constitutions and customs of those places, and of the present state of the federal union of the Hanseatic towns: it will do you no harm, nor cost you much trouble; and it is so much clear gain on the side of useful knowledge.
Are you still planning to visit your territories of Bremen and Lübeck this summer? If you are, please make sure to inform yourself accurately about the various laws and customs of those places, as well as the current state of the federal union of the Hanseatic towns. It won't hurt you and won't take much effort; plus, you'll gain useful knowledge from it.
I am now settled at Blackheath for the summer; where unseasonable frost and snow, and hot and parching east winds, have destroyed all my fruit, and almost my fruit-trees. I vegetate myself little better than they do; I crawl about on foot and on horseback; read a great deal, and write a little; and am very much yours.
I’m now settled in Blackheath for the summer, where unexpected frost and snow, along with hot, dry east winds, have ruined all my fruit and nearly all my fruit trees. I’m doing just a little better than they are; I walk around on foot and horseback, read a lot, and write a little; and I’m very much yours.
LETTER CCXXII
BLACKHEATH, May 30, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have no letter from you to answer, so this goes to you unprovoked. But ‘a propos’ of letters; you have had great honor done you, in a letter from a fair and royal hand, no less than that of her Royal Highness the Princess of Cassel; she has written your panegyric to her sister, Princess Amelia, who sent me a compliment upon it. This has likewise done you no harm with the King, who said gracious things upon that occasion. I suppose you had for her Royal Highness those attentions which I wish to God you would have, in due proportions, for everybody. You see, by this instance, the effects of them; they are always repaid with interest. I am more confirmed by this in thinking, that, if you can conveniently, you should ask leave to go for a week to Cassel, to return your thanks for all favors received.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I haven’t received a letter from you to respond to, so this message is unsolicited. But speaking of letters, you’ve received quite an honor in a letter from a distinguished source—none other than her Royal Highness, the Princess of Cassel. She wrote a glowing review of you to her sister, Princess Amelia, who complimented me on it. This has also positively influenced the King, who said kind things about it. I imagine you showed her Royal Highness the kind of attentiveness that I wish you would show to everyone, in the right measure. This situation illustrates how such attentiveness always pays off generously. This makes me more certain that, if it's feasible, you should request permission to visit Cassel for a week to express your gratitude for all the kindness you've received.
I cannot expound to myself the conduct of the Russians. There must be a trick in their not marching with more expedition. They have either had a sop from the King of Prussia, or they want an animating dram from France and Austria. The King of Prussia’s conduct always explains itself by the events; and, within a very few days, we must certainly hear of some very great stroke from that quarter. I think I never in my life remember a period of time so big with great events as the present: within two months the fate of the House of Austria will probably be decided: within the same space of time, we shall certainly hear of the taking of Cape Breton, and of our army’s proceeding to Quebec within a few days we shall know the good or ill success of our great expedition; for it is sailed; and it cannot be long before we shall hear something of the Prince of Brunswick’s operations, from whom I also expect good things. If all these things turn out, as there is good reason to believe they will, we may once, in our turn, dictate a reasonable peace to France, who now pays seventy per cent insurance upon its trade, and seven per cent for all the money raised for the service of the year.
I can't understand the behavior of the Russians. There must be a reason they're not moving faster. They've either gotten a bribe from the King of Prussia, or they need some motivation from France and Austria. The King of Prussia's actions always make sense in light of the events, and in just a few days, we're bound to hear about some significant move from that side. I don't think I've ever seen a time filled with so many important events as now: in the next couple of months, the fate of the House of Austria will likely be determined; during that same time, we'll definitely hear about the capture of Cape Breton, and our army moving towards Quebec. Soon, we'll know how our big expedition has fared; it's already set sail, and it won't be long before we get news about the Prince of Brunswick's operations, from whom I also expect good results. If everything works out as I believe it will, we might finally be in a position to dictate a fair peace to France, which is currently paying seventy percent insurance on its trade and seven percent on all the money raised for this year's expenses.
Comte Bothmar has got the small-pox, and of a bad kind. Kniphausen diverts himself much here; he sees all places and all people, and is ubiquity itself. Mitchel, who was much threatened, stays at last at Berlin, at the earnest request of the King of Prussia. Lady is safely delivered of a son, to the great joy of that noble family. The expression, of a woman’s having brought her husband a son, seems to be a proper and cautious one; for it is never said from whence.
Comte Bothmar has come down with a severe case of smallpox. Kniphausen is having a great time here; he’s everywhere and sees everyone, truly a man of many places. Mitchel, who was feeling quite worried, has decided to stay in Berlin at the strong request of the King of Prussia. Lady has safely given birth to a son, bringing great joy to that noble family. The phrase about a woman giving her husband a son seems appropriate and careful, as it never specifies where the child comes from.
I was going to ask you how you passed your time now at Hamburg, since it is no longer the seat of strangers and of business; but I will not, because I know it is to no purpose. You have sworn not to tell me.
I was going to ask how you spend your time in Hamburg now that it's no longer a hub for travelers and business, but I won't, because I know it's pointless. You've promised not to tell me.
Sir William Stanhope told me that you promised to send him some Old Hock from Hamburg, and so you did not. If you meet with any superlatively good, and not else, pray send over a ‘foudre’ of it, and write to him. I shall have a share in it. But unless you find some, either at Hamburg or at Bremen, uncommonly and almost miracuously good, do not send any. Dixi. Yours.
Sir William Stanhope told me that you promised to send him some Old Hock from Hamburg, but you didn't. If you come across any exceptionally good stuff, and nothing less, please send over a 'foudre' of it and write to him. I’d like to have a share in it. But unless you find something at Hamburg or Bremen that’s truly outstanding, don’t send any. I said what I had to say. Yours.
LETTER CCXXIII
BLACKHEATH, June 13, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The secret is out: St. Malo is the devoted place. Our troops began to land at the Bay of Cancale the 5th, without any opposition. We have no further accounts yet, but expect some every moment. By the plan of it, which I have seen, it is by no means a weak place; and I fear there will be many hats to be disposed of, before it is taken. There are in the port above thirty privateers; about sixteen of their own, and about as many taken from us. 237
MY DEAR FRIEND: The secret is out: St. Malo is the place to be. Our troops started landing at the Bay of Cancale on the 5th, without any resistance. We don't have any more updates yet, but we expect some at any moment. From the plan I’ve seen, it’s definitely not a weak spot; and I fear there will be many hats lost before it’s captured. There are over thirty privateers in the port; about sixteen of their own, and about as many taken from us. 237
Now for Africa, where we have had great success. The French have been driven out of all their forts and settlements upon the Gum coast, and upon the river Senegal. They had been many years in possession of them, and by them annoyed our African trade exceedingly; which, by the way, ‘toute proportion gardee’, is the most lucrative trade we have. The present booty is likewise very considerable, in gold dust, and gum Seneca; which is very valuable, by being a very necessary commodity, for all our stained and printed linens.
Now, let’s talk about Africa, where we’ve had significant success. The French have been expelled from all their forts and settlements along the Gulf coast and the Senegal River. They had held these for many years and had been a constant nuisance to our African trade, which, by the way, is by far the most profitable trade we have. The current loot is also quite substantial, including gold dust and gum Seneca, which is very valuable because it’s essential for all of our dyed and printed textiles.
Now for America. The least sanguine people here expect, the latter end of this month or the beginning of the next, to have the account of the taking of Cape Breton, and of all the forts with hard names in North America.
Now for America. The least optimistic people here expect that by the end of this month or the start of the next, we will have news about the capture of Cape Breton and all the forts with difficult names in North America.
Captain Clive has long since settled Asia to our satisfaction; so that three parts of the world look very favorable for us. Europe, I submit to the care of the King of Prussia and Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick; and I think they will give a good account of it. France is out of luck, and out of courage; and will, I hope, be enough out of spirits to submit to a reasonable peace. By reasonable, I mean what all people call reasonable in their own case; an advantageous one for us.
Captain Clive has effectively secured Asia for us; so now three parts of the world are in our favor. I leave Europe in the hands of the King of Prussia and Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, and I believe they will handle it well. France is down on its luck and lacking in courage, and I hope it will be disheartened enough to accept a reasonable peace. By reasonable, I mean what everyone considers reasonable in their own situation; one that benefits us.
I have set all right with Munchausen; who would not own that he was at all offended, and said, as you do, that his daughter did not stay long enough, nor appear enough at Hamburg, for you possibly to know that she was there. But people are always ashamed to own the little weaknesses of self-love, which, however, all people feel more or less. The excuse, I saw, pleased.
I’ve sorted everything out with Munchausen; who wouldn’t admit that he was even slightly offended? He claimed, just like you do, that his daughter didn’t stay in Hamburg long enough or make enough of an appearance for you to actually know she was there. But people are always hesitant to acknowledge the small flaws of self-love, which everyone experiences to some extent. I could tell the excuse made him happy.
I will send you your quadrille tables by the first opportunity, consigned to the care of Mr. Mathias here. ‘Felices faustaeque sint! May you win upon them, when you play with men; and when you play with women, either win or know why you lose.
I’ll send you your quadrille tables at the first opportunity, taking care to send them with Mr. Mathias here. 'Good luck! May you win when you play with men; and when you play with women, either win or understand why you lose.'
Miss———marries Mr.———-next week. WHO PROFFERS LOVE, PROFFERS DEATH, says Weller to a dwarf: in my opinion, the conclusion must instantly choak the little lady. Admiral marries Lady; there the danger, if danger is, will be on the other side. The lady has wanted a man so long, that she now compounds for half a one. Half a loaf—
Miss———marries Mr.———next week. WHO OFFERS LOVE, OFFERS DEATH, says Weller to a dwarf: in my opinion, the outcome will immediately choke the little lady. Admiral marries Lady; there the risk, if there is one, will be on the other side. The lady has wanted a man for so long that she’s now settling for half of 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.
I’ve been doing worse since my last letter, but I think I’m starting to recover now; ‘you can only go to the well so many times’—and I’ve been there quite a bit.
Good-night. I am faithfully and truly yours.
Goodnight. I am sincerely and truly yours.
LETTER CCXXIV
BLACKHEATH, June 27, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You either have received already, or will very soon receive, a little case from Amsterdam, directed to you at Hamburg. It is for Princess Ameba, the King of Prussia’s sister, and contains some books which she desired Sir Charles Hotham to procure her from England, so long ago as when he was at Berlin: he sent for them immediately; but, by I do not know what puzzle, they were recommended to the care of Mr. Selwyn, at Paris, who took such care of them, that he kept them near three years in his warehouse, and has at last sent them to Amsterdam, from whence they are sent to you. If the books are good for anything, they must be considerably improved, by having seen so much of the world; but, as I believe they are English books, perhaps they may, like English travelers, have seen nobody, but the several bankers to whom they were consigned: be that as it will, I think you had best deliver them to Monsieur Hecht, the Prussian Minister at Hamburg, to forward to her Royal Highness, with a respectful compliment from you, which you will, no doubt, turn in the best manner, and ‘selon le bon ton de la parfaitement bonne compagnie’.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You have either already received or will soon receive a small package from Amsterdam, addressed to you in Hamburg. It is for Princess Ameba, the sister of the King of Prussia, and contains some books she asked Sir Charles Hotham to get for her from England a long time ago while he was in Berlin. He requested them right away, but for reasons I don’t know, they were sent to Mr. Selwyn in Paris, who took such good care of them that he kept them in his warehouse for almost three years. He has finally sent them to Amsterdam, from where they are now being sent to you. If the books are worth anything, they must have improved from their travels, but since I believe they are English books, perhaps like English travelers, they may not have seen anyone but the bankers they were handed over to. Regardless, I think you should give them to Monsieur Hecht, the Prussian Minister in Hamburg, to send to her Royal Highness, along with a respectful compliment from you, which I’m sure you will express in the best way possible and “according to the good manners of perfectly respectable company.”
You have already seen, in the papers, all the particulars of our St. Malo’s expedition, so I say no more of that; only that Mr. Pitt’s friends exult in the destruction of three French ships of war, and one hundred and thirty privateers and trading ships; and affirm that it stopped the march of threescore thousand men, who were going to join the Comte de Clermont’s army. On the other hand, Mr. Fox and company call it breaking windows with guineas; and apply the fable of the Mountain and the Mouse. The next object of our fleet was to be the bombarding of Granville, which is the great ‘entrepot’ of their Newfoundland fishery, and will be a considerable loss to them in that branch of their trade. These, you will perhaps say, are no great matters, and I say so too; but, at least, they are signs of life, which we had not given them for many years before; and will show the French, by our invading them, that we do not fear their invading us. Were those invasions, in fishing-boats from Dunkirk, so terrible as they were artfully represented to be, the French would have had an opportunity of executing them, while our fleet, and such a considerable part of our army, were employed upon their coast. BUT MY LORD LIGONIER DOES NOT WANT AN ARMY AT HOME.
You’ve already read in the news about our St. Malo expedition, so I won’t go into that any further; just know that Mr. Pitt's supporters are celebrating the destruction of three French warships and one hundred and thirty privateers and trading vessels, claiming it halted the advance of sixty thousand men who were set to join the Comte de Clermont’s army. Meanwhile, Mr. Fox and his group dismiss it as just wasting money for no real gain, likening it to the fable of the Mountain and the Mouse. The next target for our fleet was to bomb Granville, a major hub for their Newfoundland fishery, which would significantly hurt their trade in that area. You might think these aren’t big deals, and I agree; but at least they show we’re back in action, which we hadn’t done for many years before, and will demonstrate to the French, through our invasion of them, that we’re not afraid of their invasions. If those invasions, in fishing boats from Dunkirk, were really as frightening as they were portrayed, the French would have had the chance to carry them out while our fleet and a significant part of our army were focused on their coast. BUT MY LORD LIGONIER DOES NOT WANT AN ARMY AT HOME.
The parliament is prorogued by a most gracious speech neither by nor from his Majesty, who was TOO ILL to go to the House; the Lords and Gentlemen are, consequently, most of them, gone to their several counties, to do (to be sure) all the good that is recommended to them in the speech. London, I am told, is now very empty, for I cannot say so from knowledge. I vegetate wholly here. I walk and read a great deal, ride and scribble a little, according as my lead allows, or my spirits prompt; to write anything tolerable, the mind must be in a natural, proper disposition; provocatives, in that case, as well as in another, will only produce miserable, abortive performances.
The parliament has been shut down with a very gracious speech neither by nor from his Majesty, who was too ill to attend the House; as a result, most of the Lords and Gentlemen have returned to their counties to do, without a doubt, all the good mentioned in the speech. I hear that London is quite empty now, though I can't say that from experience. I'm just getting by here. I walk and read a lot, ride a bit, and write a little, depending on how I feel or what I’m inspired to do; to create anything decent, the mind needs to be in a natural, proper state; distractions, in this case as in others, will only lead to disappointing, unsuccessful attempts.
Now that you have (as I suppose) full leisure enough, I wish you would give yourself the trouble, or rather pleasure, to do what I hinted to you some time ago; that is, to write short memoirs of those affairs which have either gone through your hands, or that have come to your certain knowledge, from the inglorious battle of Hastenbeck, to the still more scandalous Treaty of Neutrality. Connect, at least, if it be by ever so short notes, the pieces and letters which you must necessarily have in your hands, and throw in the authentic anecdotes that you have probably heard. You will be glad when you have done it: and the reviving past ideas, in some order and method, will be an infinite comfort to you hereafter. I have a thousand times regretted not having done so; it is at present too late for me to begin; this is the right time for you, and your life is likely to be a busy one. Would young men avail themselves of the advice and experience of their old friends, they would find the utility in their youth, and the comfort of it in their more advanced age; but they seldom consider that, and you, less than anybody I ever knew. May you soon grow wiser! Adieu.
Now that you have, as I assume, plenty of free time, I hope you’ll take the effort, or rather enjoy the opportunity, to do what I suggested to you some time ago. That is, write short memoirs about the events that have either crossed your path or that you know about, from the infamous battle of Hastenbeck to the even more scandalous Treaty of Neutrality. At least connect, even if it’s just with brief notes, the documents and letters that you must have, and include the real anecdotes you’ve likely heard. You’ll be glad you did it, and recalling past events in some organized way will provide you with great comfort later on. I’ve regretted not doing this a thousand times; it’s too late for me to start now, but this is the perfect moment for you, as your life is likely to be busy. If young people would take the advice and experience of their older friends, they’d find it useful in their youth and comforting in later years; but they hardly ever think of that, and you, less than anyone I know. May you become wiser soon! Goodbye.
LETTER CCXXV
BLACKHEATH, June 30, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter follows my last very close; but I received yours of the 15th in the short interval. You did very well not to buy any Rhenish, at the exorbitant price you mention, without further directions; for both my brother and I think the money better than the wine, be the wine ever so good. We will content our selves with our stock in hand of humble Rhenish, of about three shillings a-bottle. However, ‘pour la rarity du fait, I will lay out twelve ducats’, for twelve bottles of the wine of 1665, by way of an eventual cordial, if you can obtain a ‘senatus consultum’ for it. I am in no hurry for it, so send it me only when you can conveniently; well packed up ‘s’entend’.
MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter follows closely after my last one; however, I received yours from the 15th in the brief interval. You did well not to buy any Rhenish at the steep price you mentioned without further instructions; both my brother and I think that money is better than the wine, no matter how good it might be. We will make do with our supply of modest Rhenish, which costs about three shillings a bottle. However, for the sake of rarity, I will spend twelve ducats on twelve bottles of the 1665 wine as a sort of occasional treat, if you can get a special approval for it. I'm not in a rush for it, so just send it to me when it's convenient; make sure it’s well packed, of course.
You will, I dare say, have leave to go to Cassel; and if you do go, you will perhaps think it reasonable, that I, who was the adviser of the journey, should pay the expense of it. I think so too; and therefore, if you go, I will remit the L100 which you have calculated it at. You will find the House of Cassel the house of gladness; for Hanau is already, or must be soon, delivered of its French guests.
You will probably be allowed to go to Cassel; and if you do go, you might think it's fair that I, who suggested the trip, should cover the cost. I agree with you; so, if you go, I will give you the £100 you estimated it would cost. You'll find the House of Cassel to be a joyful place because Hanau is either already rid of its French guests or will be very soon.
The Prince of Brunswick’s victory is, by all the skillful, thought a ‘chef d’oeuvre’, worthy of Turenne, Conde, or the most illustrious human butchers. The French behaved better than at Rosbach, especially the Carabiniers Royaux, who could not be ‘entames’. I wish the siege of Olmutz well over, and a victory after it; and that, with good news from America, which I think there is no reason to doubt of, must procure us a good peace at the end of the year. The Prince of Prussia’s death is no public misfortune: there was a jealousy and alienation between the King and him, which could never have been made up between the possessor of the crown and the next heir to it. He will make something of his nephew, ‘s’il est du bois don’t on en fait’. He is young enough to forgive, and to be forgiven, the possession and the expectative, at least for some years.
The Prince of Brunswick’s victory is widely regarded by experts as a masterpiece, worthy of Turenne, Condé, or the most renowned warriors. The French performed better than at Rossbach, especially the Royal Carabiniers, who remained unassailable. I hope the siege of Olmutz ends soon, and that we secure a victory afterward; along with positive news from America, which I believe is very likely, this should lead us to a good peace by the end of the year. The Prince of Prussia’s death is not a public tragedy: there was jealousy and a rift between the King and him that could never be fixed between the crown holder and the next heir. He will likely make something of his nephew, if he’s made of the right stuff. He is young enough to both forgive and be forgiven regarding the possession and the expectation, at least for a few more years.
Adieu! I am UNWELL, but affectionately yours.
Goodbye! I'm not feeling well, but I care for you deeply.
LETTER CCXXVI
BLACKHEATH, July 18, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter of the 4th; and my last will have informed you that I had received your former, concerning the Rhenish, about which I gave you instructions. If ‘vinum Mosellanum est omni tempore sanum’, as the Chapter of Treves asserts, what must this ‘vinum Rhenanum’ be, from its superior strength and age? It must be the universal panacea.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I got your letter from the 4th, and my last message should have let you know that I received your previous one about the Rhenish, for which I provided instructions. If ‘Moselle wine is always healthy’, as the Chapter of Treves claims, then what must this ‘Rhenish wine’ be, given its superior strength and age? It must be the ultimate cure-all.
Captain Howe is to sail forthwith somewhere or another, with about 8,000 land forces on board him; and what is much more, Edward the White Prince. It is yet a secret where they are going; but I think it is no secret, that what 16,000 men and a great fleet could not do, will not be done by 8,000 men and a much smaller fleet. About 8,500 horse, foot, and dragoons, are embarking, as fast as they can, for Embden, to reinforce Prince Ferdinand’s army; late and few, to be sure, but still better than never, and none. The operations in Moravia go on slowly, and Olmutz seems to be a tough piece of work; I own I begin to be in pain for the King of Prussia; for the Russians now march in earnest, and Marechal Dann’s army is certainly superior in number to his. God send him a good delivery!
Captain Howe is set to sail right away with about 8,000 troops on board, and even more importantly, Edward the White Prince. It's still a secret where they are headed, but it's no secret that what 16,000 men and a large fleet couldn't achieve won't be accomplished by 8,000 men and a much smaller fleet. About 8,500 cavalry, infantry, and dragoons are being loaded up as quickly as possible for Embden to strengthen Prince Ferdinand’s army; it's late and not many, but still better than nothing. The operations in Moravia are progressing slowly, and Olmutz seems to be a tough task; I have to admit I'm starting to worry for the King of Prussia, as the Russians are now moving seriously, and Marechal Dann’s army is definitely larger than his. God grant him a safe passage!
You have a Danish army now in your neighborhood, and they say a very fine one; I presume you will go to see it, and, if you do, I would advise you to go when the Danish Monarch comes to review it himself; ‘pour prendre langue de ce Seigneur’. The rulers of the earth are all worth knowing; they suggest moral reflections: and the respect that one naturally has for God’s vicegerents here on earth, is greatly increased by acquaintance with them.
You have a Danish army in your area now, and they say it's a really impressive one; I assume you'll want to check it out, and if you do, I recommend going when the Danish Monarch comes to review it himself; 'to get to know this lord.' The leaders of the world are all interesting to meet; they provoke moral thoughts: and the respect one naturally feels for God’s representatives here on earth grows significantly through familiarity with them.
Your card-tables are gone, and they inclose some suits of clothes, and some of these clothes inclose a letter.
Your card tables are gone, and they hold some outfits, and some of these outfits contain a letter.
Your friend Lady———is gone into the country with her Lord, to negotiate, coolly and at leisure, their intended separation. My Lady insists upon my Lord’s dismissing the———, as ruinous to his fortune; my Lord insists, in his turn, upon my Lady’s dismissing Lord—————; my Lady replies, that that is unreasonable, since Lord creates no expense to the family, but rather the contrary. My Lord confesses that there is some weight in this argument: but then pleads sentiment: my Lady says, a fiddlestick for sentiment, after having been married so long. How this matter will end, is in the womb of time, ‘nam fuit ante Helenam’.
Your friend Lady——— has gone to the countryside with her Lord to calmly and leisurely discuss their planned separation. My Lady is insisting that my Lord let go of the———, claiming it’s bad for his finances; my Lord, on the other hand, is insisting that my Lady dismiss Lord—————. My Lady responds that this is unreasonable since Lord——— doesn’t actually cost the family anything, and in fact, it’s the opposite. My Lord admits that there is some truth to this point, but then brings up feelings; my Lady dismisses feelings entirely, after being married for so long. How this situation will resolve is a mystery for the future, ‘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.
You did great by writing a congratulatory letter to Prince Ferdinand; gestures like that are always appreciated and often returned in some way.
I am glad you have connected your negotiations and anecdotes; and, I hope, not with your usual laconism. Adieu! Yours.
I'm glad you've linked your discussions and stories together; and I hope, not with your usual brevity. Goodbye! Yours.
LETTER CCXXVII
BLACKHEATH, August 1, 1758
MY DEAR FRIEND: I think the Court of Cassel is more likely to make you a second visit at Hamburg, than you are to return theirs at Cassel; and therefore, till that matter is clearer, I shall not mention it to Lord Holderness.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I believe the Court of Cassel is more likely to pay you a second visit in Hamburg than you are to return their visit in Cassel; and so, until that situation is clearer, I won’t bring it up with Lord Holderness.
By the King of Prussia’s disappointment in Moravia, by the approach of the Russians, and the intended march of Monsieur de Soubize to Hanover, the waters seem to me to be as much troubled as ever. ‘Je vois tres noir actuellement’; I see swarms of Austrians, French, Imperialists, Swedes, and Russians, in all near four hundred thousand men, surrounding the King of Prussia and Prince Ferdinand, who have about a third of that number. Hitherto they have only buzzed, but now I fear they will sting.
By the King of Prussia’s disappointment in Moravia, the approaching Russians, and Monsieur de Soubize's planned march to Hanover, things seem just as chaotic as ever. ‘Je vois très noir actuellement’; I see a swarm of Austrians, French, Imperialists, Swedes, and Russians, totaling nearly four hundred thousand men, surrounding the King of Prussia and Prince Ferdinand, who have about a third of that number. So far, they’ve just been buzzing, but now I fear they’re about to strike.
The immediate danger of this country is being drowned; for it has not ceased raining these three months, and withal is extremely cold. This neither agrees with me in itself, nor in its consequences; for it hinders me from taking my necessary exercise, and makes me very unwell. As my head is always the part offending, and is so at present, I will not do, like many writers, write without a head; so adieu.
The immediate danger in this country is that it's about to drown; it hasn't stopped raining for three months, and it's really cold. This doesn't work for me, both on its own and in what it leads to; it keeps me from getting the exercise I need and makes me feel really unwell. Since my head is always the problem, and it is right now, I won’t do what many writers do and write without my head; so goodbye.
LETTER CCXXVIII
BLACKHEATH, August 29, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your secretary’s last letter brought me the good news that the fever had left you, and I will believe that it has: but a postscript to it, of only two lines, under your own hand, would have convinced me more effectually of your recovery. An intermitting fever, in the intervals of the paroxysms, would surely have allowed you to have written a few lines with your own hand, to tell me how you were; and till I receive a letter (as short as you please) from you yourself, I shall doubt of the exact truth of any other accounts.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your secretary’s last letter brought me the good news that the fever has left you, and I want to believe that it’s true. But a quick note from you, just a couple of lines in your own handwriting, would have reassured me even more about your recovery. An intermittent fever should have allowed you to scribble a few lines to let me know how you were doing. Until I get a letter (as brief as you like) from you personally, I will have doubts about the accuracy of any other information I receive.
I send you no news, because I have none; Cape Breton, Cherbourg, etc., are now old stories; we expect a new one soon from Commodore Howe, but from whence we know not. From Germany we hope for good news: I confess I do not, I only wish it. The King of Prussia is marched to fight the Russians, and I believe will beat them, if they stand; but what then? What shall he do next, with the three hundred and fourscore thousand men now actually at work upon him? He will do all that man can do, but at last ‘il faut succomber’.
I haven't sent you any updates because I don't have any. Cape Breton, Cherbourg, and similar events are now old news. We're expecting a new report from Commodore Howe soon, but we don't know where it's coming from. We're hoping for good news from Germany, though honestly, I just wish for it. The King of Prussia has gone to fight the Russians, and I believe he will defeat them if they stand their ground. But then what? What will he do next with the three hundred and eighty thousand men currently in his command? He will do everything a person can do, but in the end, ‘he must give in’.
Remember to think yourself less well than you are, in order to be quite so; be very regular, rather longer than you need; and then there will be no danger of a relapse. God bless you.
Remember to think of yourself as not as great as you are, to truly be so; be very consistent, even a bit longer than necessary; and then there will be no risk of a setback. God bless you.
LETTER CCXXIX
BLACKHEATH, September 5, 1758
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, with great pleasure, your letter of the 22d August; for, by not having a line from you in your secretary’s two letters, I suspect that you were worse than he cared to tell me; and so far I was in the right, that your fever was more malignant than intermitting ones generally are, which seldom confines people to their bed, or at most, only the days of the paroxysms. Now that, thank God, you are well again, though weak, do not be in too much haste to be better and stronger: leave that to nature, which, at your age, will restore both your health and strength as soon as she should. Live cool for a time, and rather low, instead of taking what they call heartening things: Your manner of making presents is noble, ‘et sent la grandeur d’ame d’un preux Chevalier’. You depreciate their value to prevent any returns; for it is impossible that a wine which has counted so many Syndicks, that can only be delivered by a ‘senatus consultum’, and is the PANACEA Of the North, should be sold for a ducat a bottle. The ‘sylphium’ of the Romans, which was stored up in the public magazines, and only distributed by order of the magistrate, I dare say, cost more; so that I am convinced, your present is much more valuable than you would make it.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I was very pleased to receive your letter dated August 22nd. Since I didn't get a word from you in your secretary’s two letters, I suspect you were worse off than he let on. I was right to worry, as your fever turned out to be more serious than the usual intermittent ones, which rarely keep people in bed, usually just during the worst days. Now that, thank God, you’re feeling better, even if still weak, don’t rush to get back to full strength. Let nature take its course; at your age, it will restore your health and strength in its own time. Take it easy for a while and keep a low profile instead of jumping into so-called energizing treatments. Your way of giving gifts is generous and reflects the nobility of a true knight. You downplay their value to discourage anyone from feeling the need to reciprocate; after all, it’s hard to believe that a wine that has been enjoyed by so many Syndics, which can only be sold through a senate decree and is the PANACEA of the North, could actually sell for just a ducat a bottle. The ‘sylphium’ of the Romans, which was kept in public warehouses and only distributed by magistrates, probably cost more; so I’m sure your gift is far more valuable than you let on.
Here I am interrupted, by receiving your letter of the 25th past. I am glad that you are able to undertake your journey to Bremen: the motion, the air, the new scene, the everything, will do you good, provided you manage yourself discreetly.
Here I am interrupted by receiving your letter from the 25th of last month. I'm glad you can go on your trip to Bremen; the movement, the fresh air, the new surroundings—all of it will be good for you, as long as you take care of yourself wisely.
Your bill for fifty pounds shall certainly be accepted and paid; but, as in conscience I think fifty pounds is too little, for seeing a live Landgrave, and especially at Bremen, which this whole nation knows to be a very dear place, I shall, with your leave, add fifty more to it. By the way, when you see the Princess Royal of Cassel, be sure to tell her how sensible you are of the favorable and too partial testimony, which you know she wrote of you to Princess Amelia.
Your bill for fifty pounds will definitely be accepted and paid; however, I believe fifty pounds is too low for seeing a live Landgrave, especially in Bremen, which everyone knows is quite expensive. With your permission, I’d like to add another fifty pounds to it. Also, when you see the Princess Royal of Cassel, make sure to let her know how much you appreciate the kind and somewhat biased recommendation she wrote about you to Princess Amelia.
The King of Prussia has had the victory, which you in some measure foretold; and as he has taken ‘la caisse militaire’, I presume ‘Messieurs les Russes sont hors de combat pour cette campagne’; for ‘point d’argent, point de Suisse’, is not truer of the laudable Helvetic body, than ‘point d’argent, point de Russe’, is of the savages of the Two Russias, not even excepting the Autocratrice of them both. Serbelloni, I believe, stands next in his Prussian Majesty’s list to be beaten; that is, if he will stand; as the Prince de Soubize does in Prince Ferdinand’s, upon the same condition. If both these things happen, which is by no means improbable, we may hope for a tolerable peace this winter; for, ‘au bout du compte’, the King of Prussia cannot hold out another year; and therefore he should make the best of these favorable events, by way negotiation.
The King of Prussia has won the victory, as you somewhat predicted; and since he has taken the military funds, I assume the Russians are out of the game for this campaign; because just like "no money, no Switzerland," it’s just as true that "no money, no Russians" applies to the forces of the Two Russias, not even including their Empress. I believe Serbelloni is next on the list to face the Prussian King, that is, if he decides to stand his ground, similar to how Prince de Soubize does under Prince Ferdinand, under the same conditions. If both of these scenarios play out, which isn’t unlikely, we can hope for a decent peace this winter; because, in the end, the King of Prussia can’t hold out for another year; thus, he should make the most of these favorable circumstances through negotiation.
I think I have written a great deal, with an actual giddiness of head upon me. So adieu.
I feel like I've written a lot, and I'm a bit dizzy from it. So goodbye.
I am glad you have received my letter of the Ides of July.
I’m glad you got my letter from the Ides of July.
LETTER CCXXX
BLACKHEATH, September 8, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter shall be short, being only an explanatory note upon my last; for I am not learned enough, nor yet dull enough, to make my comment much longer than my text. I told you then, in my former letter, that, with your leave (which I will suppose granted), I would add fifty pounds to your draught for that sum; now, lest you should misunderstand this, and wait for the remittance of that additional fifty from hence, know then my meaning was, that you should likewise draw upon me for it when you please; which I presume, will be more convenient to you.
MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter will be brief, just an explanation for my last one; I'm not knowledgeable enough, nor too dull, to make my comments much longer than my original message. In my previous letter, I mentioned that, with your permission (which I assume you grant), I would add fifty pounds to your withdrawal for that amount; now, to avoid any misunderstanding and to prevent you from waiting for that extra fifty to be sent from here, I meant that you can also draw on me for it whenever you like, which I believe will be more convenient for you.
Let the pedants, whose business it is to believe lies, or the poets, whose trade it is to invent them, match the King of Prussia With a hero in ancient or modern story, if they can. He disgraces history, and makes one give some credit to romances. Calprenede’s Juba does not now seem so absurd as formerly.
Let the know-it-alls, whose job it is to believe lies, or the poets, whose business it is to create them, compare the King of Prussia with a hero from ancient or modern tales, if they can. He tarnishes history and makes one give some credit to fiction. Calprenede’s Juba doesn’t seem as ridiculous now as it once did.
I have been extremely ill this whole summer; but am now something better. However, I perceive, ‘que l’esprit et le corps baissent’; the former is the last thing that anybody will tell me; or own when I tell it them; but I know it is true. Adieu.
I’ve been really sick all summer, but I'm feeling a bit better now. However, I notice that “the mind and body are declining”; people won’t mention it to me or admit it when I bring it up, but I know it’s true. Goodbye.
LETTER CCXXXI
BLACKHEATH, September 22, 1758
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received no letter from you since you left Hamburg; I presume that you are perfectly recovered, but it might not have been improper to have told me so. I am very far from being recovered; on the contrary, I am worse and worse, weaker and weaker every day; for which reason I shall leave this place next Monday, and set out for Bath a few days afterward. I should not take all this trouble merely to prolong the fag end of a life, from which I can expect no pleasure, and others no utility; but the cure, or at least the mitigation, of those physical ills which make that life a load while it does last, is worth any trouble and attention.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I haven’t received any letters from you since you left Hamburg; I assume that you are fully recovered, but it would have been nice if you had let me know. I am far from being better; on the contrary, I’m getting worse and weaker every day. For this reason, I plan to leave this place next Monday and head to Bath a few days after that. I wouldn’t go through all this trouble just to stretch out the end of a life that brings me no joy and offers no benefit to others; however, finding a cure or at least some relief for the physical issues that make this life so burdensome is worth any effort and attention.
We are come off but scurvily from our second attempt upon St. Malo; it is our last for this season; and, in my mind, should be our last forever, unless we were to send so great a sea and land force as to give us a moral certainty of taking some place of great importance, such as Brest, Rochefort, or Toulon.
We've had a pretty bad outcome from our second attempt on St. Malo; it's our last for this season, and honestly, it should be our last ever unless we send a massive sea and land force that clearly guarantees we'll capture a significant place, like Brest, Rochefort, or Toulon.
Monsieur Munchausen embarked yesterday, as he said, for Prince Ferdinand’s army; but as it is not generally thought that his military skill can be of any great use to that prince, people conjecture that his business must be of a very different nature, and suspect separate negotiations, neutralities, and what not. Kniphausen does not relish it in the least, and is by no means satisfied with the reasons that have been given him for it. Before he can arrive there, I reckon that something decisive will have passed in Saxony; if to the disadvantage of the King of Prussia, he is crushed; but if, on the contrary, he should get a complete victory (and he does not get half victories) over the Austrians, the winter may probably produce him and us a reasonable peace. I look upon Russia as ‘hors de combat’ for some time; France is certainly sick of the war; under an unambitious King, and an incapable Ministry, if there is one at all: and, unassisted by those two powers, the Empress Queen had better be quiet. Were any other man in the situation of the King of Prussia, I should not hesitate to pronounce him ruined; but he is such a prodigy of a man, that I will only say, I fear he will be ruined. It is by this time decided.
Monsieur Munchausen set off yesterday, as he claimed, for Prince Ferdinand’s army; however, since many doubt that his military skills will benefit the prince much, people speculate that his mission is of a different nature, suspecting separate negotiations, neutralities, and so on. Kniphausen is not at all pleased and is far from satisfied with the explanations he’s been given. I estimate that something significant will have happened in Saxony by the time he arrives; if it goes poorly for the King of Prussia, he will be defeated. But if, on the other hand, he achieves a complete victory (and he doesn’t do things halfway) over the Austrians, winter might bring him and us a fair peace. I consider Russia out of the game for a while; France is definitely tired of the war; under an unambitious king and an incapable government, if there is one at all, and without the support of those two powers, the Empress Queen should probably stay quiet. If anyone else were in the King of Prussia’s position, I would confidently say he was finished; but he’s such an extraordinary man that I can only say I fear he will be ruined. It’s decided by now.
Your Cassel court at Bremen is, I doubt, not very splendid; money must be wanting: but, however, I dare say their table is always good, for the Landgrave is a gourmand; and as you are domestic there, you may be so too, and recruit your loss of flesh from your fever: but do not recruit too fast. Adieu.
Your Cassel court in Bremen probably isn't very impressive; I assume money is tight. However, I bet their meals are always great since the Landgrave is a foodie. And since you're living there, you can enjoy it too and regain some weight after your fever, but don't gain it back too quickly. Goodbye.
LETTER CCXXXII
LONDON, September 26, 1758
MY DEAR FRIEND: I am sorry to find that you had a return of your fever; but to say the truth, you in some measure deserved it, for not carrying Dr. Middleton’s bark and prescription with you. I foresaw that you would think yourself cured too soon, and gave you warning of it; but BYGONES are BYGONES, as Chartres, when he was dying, said of his sins; let us look forward. You did very prudently to return to Hamburg, to good bark, and, I hope, a good physician. Make all sure there before you stir from thence, notwithstanding the requests or commands of all the princesses in Europe: I mean a month at least, taking the bark even to supererogation, that is, some time longer than Dr. Middleton requires; for, I presume, you are got over your childishness about tastes, and are sensible that your health deserves more attention than your palate. When you shall be thus re-established, I approve of your returning to Bremen; and indeed you cannot well avoid it, both with regard to your promise, and to the distinction with which you have been received by the Cassel family.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I'm sorry to hear that your fever has returned; but honestly, you kind of brought it on yourself by not taking Dr. Middleton’s bark and prescription with you. I knew you would think you were better too soon and warned you about it; but what's done is done, as Chartres said about his sins when he was dying; let’s move on. It was very wise of you to go back to Hamburg for good bark and, I hope, a good doctor. Make sure you get everything sorted out there before you leave, no matter what all the princesses in Europe say or ask for: I mean at least a month, taking the bark even more than Dr. Middleton recommends; because I assume you've gotten over your fussiness about tastes and realize that your health is more important than your palate. Once you’ve gotten back on your feet, I agree with the idea of you returning to Bremen; and honestly, you can’t really avoid it, both because of your promise and the way you've been treated by the Cassel family.
Now to the other part of your letter. Lord Holdernesse has been extremely civil to you, in sending you, all under his own hand, such obliging offers of his service. The hint is plain, that he will (in case you desire it) procure you leave to come home for some time; so that the single question is, whether you should desire it or not, NOW. It will be two months before you can possibly undertake the journey, whether by sea or by land, and either way it would be a troublesome and dangerous one for a convalescent in the rigor of the month of November; you could drink no mineral waters here in that season, nor are any mineral waters proper in your case, being all of them heating, except Seltzer’s; then, what would do you more harm than all medicines could do you good, would be the pestilential vapors of the House of Commons, in long and crowded days, of which there will probably be many this session; where your attendance, if here, will necessarily be required. I compare St. Stephen’s Chapel, upon those days, to ‘la Grotta del Cane’.
Now, about the other part of your letter. Lord Holdernesse has been very polite to you by sending you such generous offers of help in his own hand. The message is clear: if you want it, he can arrange for you to come home for a while. The only question now is whether you should ask for it or not. It will take you two months at least to make the journey, whether by sea or land, and either way it would be a difficult and risky trip for someone recovering during the cold of November. You wouldn’t be able to drink any mineral waters here at that time, and none of them would be suitable for you, as they’re all warming except for Seltzer’s. Then there’s the toxic atmosphere of the House of Commons in long, crowded days, which will likely be frequent this session; your presence would be required if you were here. I compare St. Stephen’s Chapel on those days to ‘la Grotta del Cane’.
Whatever may be the fate of the war now, negotiations will certainly be stirring all the winter, and of those, the northern ones, you are sensible, are not the least important; in these, if at Hamburg, you will probably have your share, and perhaps a meritorious one. Upon the whole, therefore, I would advise you to write a very civil letter to Lord Holdernesse; and to tell him that though you cannot hope to be of any use to his Majesty’s affairs anywhere, yet, in the present unsettled state of the North, it is possible that unforeseen accidents may throw in your way to be of some little service, and that you would not willingly be out of the way of those accidents; but that you shall be most extremely obliged to his Lordship, if he will procure you his Majesty’s gracious permission to return for a few months in the spring, when probably affairs will be more settled one way or another. When things tend nearer to a settlement, and that Germany, from the want of money or men, or both, breathes peace more than war, I shall solicit Burrish’s commission for you, which is one of the most agreeable ones in his Majesty’s gift; and I shall by no means despair of success. Now I have given you my opinion upon this affair, which does not make a difference of above three months, or four at most, I would not be understood to mean to force your own, if it should happen to be different from mine; but mine, I think, is more both for your health and your interest. However, do as you please: may you in this, and everything else, do for the best! So God bless you!
No matter what happens with the war right now, negotiations will definitely be happening all winter, and the northern ones, as you know, are quite significant; if they take place in Hamburg, you'll likely have a role in them, possibly a noteworthy one. Overall, I suggest you write a very polite letter to Lord Holdernesse, letting him know that while you don’t expect to be useful to his Majesty’s affairs anywhere, in the current unstable situation in the North, unexpected events might provide you with a chance to be of some assistance, and you wouldn't want to miss those opportunities. You should express that you would be very grateful if he could get you the King’s kind permission to return for a few months in the spring, when things are likely to be more settled one way or another. Once things are leaning toward a resolution, and Germany, due to lack of funds or troops, or both, is more inclined toward peace than war, I will advocate for Burrish’s commission for you, which is one of the most desirable appointments in the King’s gift; and I am hopeful for success. Now that I’ve shared my thoughts on this matter, which wouldn’t change things by more than three or four months at most, I don’t want to impose my opinion if yours differs; however, I believe my approach is better for both your health and your interests. Still, do what you think is best: I wish you all the best in this and in everything else! God bless you!
LETTER CCXXXIII
BATH, October 18, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received by the same post your two letters of the 29th past, and of the 3d instant.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your two letters from the 29th of last month and the 3rd of this month in the same mail.
The last tells me that you are perfectly recovered; and your resolution of going to Bremen in three or four days proves it; for surely you would not undertake that journey a second time, and at this season of the year, without feeling your health solidly restored; however, in all events, I hope you have taken a provision of good bark with you. I think your attention to her Royal Highness may be of use to you here; and indeed all attentions, to all sorts, of people, are always repaid in some way or other; though real obligations are not. For instance, Lord Titchfield, who has been with you at Hamburg, has written an account to the Duke and Duchess of Portland, who are here, of the civilities you showed him, with which he is much pleased, and they delighted. At this rate, if you do not take care, you will get the unmanly reputation of a well-bred man; and your countryman, John Trott, will disown you.
The latest news tells me that you’re fully recovered, and your plan to head to Bremen in three or four days confirms it. You wouldn’t take that journey again at this time of year without feeling completely healthy. Still, I hope you've packed some good medicine for yourself. I believe your attention to her Royal Highness might benefit you here, and really, any kind of kindness to people tends to be rewarded in some way, though true debts of gratitude are different. For example, Lord Titchfield, who was with you in Hamburg, wrote to the Duke and Duchess of Portland, who are here, about the kindness you showed him, which made him very happy and pleased them as well. At this rate, if you’re not careful, you might earn the undeserved reputation of being overly courteous, and your fellow countryman, John Trott, might disown you.
I have received, and tasted of your present; which is a ‘tres grand vin’, but more cordial to the stomach than pleasant to the palate. I keep it as a physic, only to take occasionally, in little disorders of my stomach; and in those cases, I believe it is wholsomer than stronger cordials.
I’ve received and tried your gift, which is a “great wine,” but it’s more soothing for the stomach than enjoyable for the taste buds. I save it as medicine, just to have sometimes for minor stomach issues; and in those cases, I think it’s healthier than stronger spirits.
I have been now here a fortnight; and though I am rather better than when I came, I am still far from well.
I have been here for two weeks now; and even though I'm feeling a bit better than when I arrived, I’m still far from healthy.
My head is giddier than becomes a head of my age; and my stomach has not recovered its retentive faculty. Leaning forward, particularly to write, does not at present agree with, Yours.
My head is spinning more than it should for someone my age, and my stomach hasn't gotten back to normal. Leaning forward, especially to write, doesn't really work for me right now.
LETTER CCXXXIV
BATH, October 28, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your letter has quieted my alarms; for I find by it, that you are as well recovered as you could be in so short a time. It is your business now to keep yourself well by scrupulously following Dr. Middleton’s directions. He seems to be a rational and knowing man. Soap and steel are, unquestionably, the proper medicines for your case; but as they are alteratives, you must take them for a very long time, six months at least; and then drink chalybeate waters. I am fully persuaded, that this was your original complaint in Carniola, which those ignorant physicians called, in their jargon, ‘Arthritis vaga’, and treated as such. But now that the true cause of your illness is discovered, I flatter myself that, with time and patience on your part, you will be radically cured; but, I repeat it again, it must be by a long and uninterrupted course of those alterative medicines above mentioned. They have no taste; but if they had a bad one, I will not now suppose you such a child, as to let the frowardness of your palate interfere in the least with the recovery or enjoyment of health. The latter deserves the utmost attention of the most rational man; the former is the only proper object of the care of a dainty, frivolous woman.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your letter has eased my worries because I see that you’ve recovered as much as possible in such a short time. Now, it’s your job to stay healthy by carefully following Dr. Middleton’s instructions. He seems like a sensible and knowledgeable man. Soap and steel are definitely the right medicines for your situation, but since they are alternatives, you’ll need to take them for a long time—at least six months—and then drink chalybeate waters. I am convinced that this was the root of your original issue in Carniola, which those clueless doctors called ‘Arthritis vaga’ in their fancy language and treated accordingly. But now that we know the true cause of your illness, I’m hopeful that with time and patience on your part, you will be fully cured. However, I want to emphasize again that it has to be through a long and uninterrupted course of the alternative medicines mentioned earlier. They don’t have any taste, but even if they did taste bad, I wouldn’t think you are so childish as to let a picky palate get in the way of your recovery or enjoyment of health. The latter should be the priority for the most sensible person; the former is only something that a fussy, superficial woman should be concerned about.
The run of luck, which some time ago we were in, seems now to be turned against us. Oberg is completely routed; his Prussian Majesty was surprised (which I am surprised at), and had rather the worst of it. I am in some pain for Prince Ferdinand, as I take it for granted that the detachment from Marechal de Contade’s army, which enabled Prince Soubize to beat Oberg, will immediately return to the grand army, and then it will be infinitely superior.
The streak of good luck we had not long ago seems to have turned against us now. Oberg is totally defeated; his Prussian Majesty was caught off guard (which surprises me), and had a tougher time than expected. I'm a bit worried for Prince Ferdinand, as I assume that the troops from Marechal de Contade’s army, which helped Prince Soubize defeat Oberg, will head back to the main army, making it much stronger.
Nor do I see where Prince Ferdinand can take his winter quarters, unless he retires to Hanover; and that I do not take to be at present the land of Canaan. Our second expedition to St. Malo I cannot call so much an unlucky, as an ill-conducted one; as was also Abercrombie’s affair in America. ‘Mais il n’y a pas de petite perte qui revient souvent’: and all these accidents put together make a considerable sum total.
Nor do I see where Prince Ferdinand can set up his winter quarters, unless he goes back to Hanover; and I don’t think that’s a promising option right now. I wouldn’t say our second expedition to St. Malo was simply unlucky, but rather poorly managed, much like Abercrombie’s situation in America. "But there’s no small loss that doesn’t add up over time": and all these incidents together result in a significant total.
I have found so little good by these waters, that I do not intend to stay here above a week longer; and then remove my crazy body to London, which is the most convenient place either to live or die in.
I haven't found much good by this water, so I don't plan to stay here for more than another week; then I'll move my weary self to London, which is the most practical place to either live or die.
I cannot expect active health anywhere; you may, with common care and prudence, effect it everywhere; and God grant that you may have it! Adieu.
I can't expect to be in good health anywhere; you can, with some basic care and caution, achieve it anywhere. I hope you do! Goodbye.
LETTER CCXXXV
LONDON, November 21, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You did well to think of Prince Ferdinand’s ribband, which I confess I did not; and I am glad to find you thinking so far beforehand. It would be a pretty commission, and I will ‘accingere me’ to procure it to you. The only competition I fear, is that of General Yorke, in case Prince Ferdinand should pass any time with his brother at The Hague, which is not unlikely, since he cannot go to Brunswick to his eldest brother, upon account of their simulated quarrel.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You were right to remember Prince Ferdinand’s ribbon, which I admit I did not; and I’m glad to see you thinking ahead. It would be a nice task, and I will ‘get myself ready’ to get it for you. The only competition I worry about is General Yorke, in case Prince Ferdinand spends any time with his brother at The Hague, which is quite possible, since he can’t go to Brunswick to see his older brother because of their fake quarrel.
I fear the piece is at an end with the King of Prussia, and he may say ‘ilicet’; I am sure he may personally say ‘plaudite’. Warm work is expected this session of parliament, about continent and no continent; some think Mr. Pitt too continent, others too little so; but a little time, as the newspapers most prudently and truly observe, will clear up these matters.
I'm afraid the situation has come to a close with the King of Prussia, and he might say ‘it's over’; I’m certain he could personally say ‘applause please’. This session of parliament is expected to be intense, focusing on whether or not we should involve ourselves with the continent; some believe Mr. Pitt is too engaged with it, while others think he’s not engaged enough. However, as the newspapers wisely and accurately point out, a little time will sort things out.
The King has been ill; but his illness is terminated in a good fit of the gout, with which he is still confined. It was generally thought that he would have died, and for a very good reason; for the oldest lion in the Tower, much about the King’s age, died a fortnight ago. This extravagancy, I can assure you, was believed by many above peuple. So wild and capricious is the human mind!
The King has been sick, but his illness has ended in a severe case of gout, which he's still dealing with. Many thought he would die, and there was a good reason for that; the oldest lion in the Tower, around the same age as the King, died two weeks ago. I can assure you, this dramatic situation was believed by many high-ranking people. How unpredictable and erratic the human mind can be!
Take care of your health as much as you can; for, To BE, or NOT To BE, is a question of much less importance, in my mind, than to be or not to be well. Adieu.
Take care of your health as much as you can; because, to live or not to live is a question that's much less important, in my opinion, than being well or not. Goodbye.
LETTER CCXXXVI
LONDON, December 15, 1758.
MY DEAR FRIEND: It is a great while since I heard from you, but I hope that good, not ill health, has been the occasion of this silence: I will suppose you have been, or are still at Bremen, and engrossed by your Hessian friends.
MY DEAR FRIEND: It's been a long time since I heard from you, but I hope that it’s been good, not bad health, that has caused this silence: I’ll assume you have been, or still are, in Bremen, busy with your Hessian friends.
Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick is most certainly to have the Garter, and I think I have secured you the honor of putting it on. When I say SECURED, I mean it in the sense in which that word should always be understood at courts, and that is, INSECURELY; I have a promise, but that is not ‘caution bourgeoise’. In all events, do not mention it to any mortal, because there is always a degree of ridicule that attends a disappointment, though often very unjustly, if the expectation was reasonably grounded; however, it is certainly most prudent not to communicate, prematurely, one’s hopes or one’s fears. I cannot tell you when Prince Ferdinand will have it; though there are so many candidates for the other two vacant Garters, that I believe he will have his soon, and by himself; the others must wait till a third, or rather a fourth vacancy. Lord Rockingham and Lord Holdernesse are secure. Lord Temple pushes strongly, but, I believe, is not secure. This commission for dubbing a knight, and so distinguished a one, will be a very agreeable and creditable one for you, ‘et il faut vous en acquitter galamment’. In the days of ancient chivalry, people were very nice who they would be knighted by and, if I do not mistake, Francis the First would only be knighted by the Chevalier Bayard, ‘qui etoit preux Chevalier et sans reproche’; and no doubt but it will be recorded, ‘dans les archives de la Maison de Brunswick’, that Prince Ferdinand received the honor of knighthood from your hands.
Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick is definitely going to get the Garter, and I think I've secured you the honor of putting it on him. When I say SECURED, I mean it in the way that word is understood at court, which is INSECURELY; I have a promise, but that doesn’t guarantee anything. In any case, don’t mention it to anyone, because there’s always some ridicule attached to a disappointment, even if it’s often very unfair when the expectations were reasonable; however, it’s definitely wise not to share your hopes or fears too early. I can’t tell you when Prince Ferdinand will receive it; however, since there are so many candidates for the other two vacant Garters, I believe he will get his soon, and solely; the others will have to wait until a third, or even a fourth, vacancy. Lord Rockingham and Lord Holdernesse are safe. Lord Temple is pushing hard, but I don’t think he’s guaranteed. This commission to knight someone, especially such a distinguished one, will be a very nice and honorable task for you, ‘et il faut vous en acquitter galamment’. In the days of old chivalry, people were very particular about who would knight them, and if I’m not mistaken, Francis the First would only knight the Chevalier Bayard, ‘qui etoit preux Chevalier et sans reproche’; and there’s no doubt it will be recorded, ‘dans les archives de la Maison de Brunswick’, that Prince Ferdinand received the honor of knighthood from your hands.
The estimates for the expenses of the year 1759 are made up; I have seen them; and what do you think they amount to? No less than twelve millions three hundred thousand pounds: a most incredible sum, and yet already subscribed, and even more offered! The unanimity in the House of Commons, in voting such a sum, and such forces, both by sea and land, is not the less astonishing. This is Mr. Pitt’s doing, AND IT IS MARVELOUS IN OUR EYES.
The estimates for expenses in 1759 have been finalized; I've seen them, and guess what they total? A staggering twelve million three hundred thousand pounds: an unbelievable amount, yet already committed, and even more is being offered! The agreement in the House of Commons to approve such a sum and such forces, both at sea and on land, is equally remarkable. This is Mr. Pitt’s achievement, AND IT IS AMAZING IN OUR EYES.
The King of Prussia has nothing more to do this year; and, the next, he must begin where he has left off. I wish he would employ this winter in concluding a separate peace with the Elector of Saxony; which would give him more elbowroom to act against France and the Queen of Hungary, and put an end at once to the proceedings of the Diet, and the army of the empire; for then no estate of the empire would be invaded by a co-estate, and France, the faithful and disinterested guarantee of the Treaty of Westphalia, would have no pretense to continue its armies there. I should think that his Polish Majesty, and his Governor, Comte Bruhl, must be pretty weary of being fugitives in Poland, where they are hated, and of being ravaged in Saxony. This reverie of mine, I hope will be tried, and I wish it may succeed. Good-night, and God bless you!
The King of Prussia has nothing left to do this year; next year, he has to pick up where he left off. I wish he would spend this winter finalizing a separate peace with the Elector of Saxony; that would give him more freedom to act against France and the Queen of Hungary and put a stop to the Diet's actions and the imperial army. Then, no territory of the empire would be invaded by another member, and France, as the loyal and unbiased guarantor of the Treaty of Westphalia, would have no reason to keep its armies there. I imagine that his Polish Majesty and his Governor, Comte Bruhl, must be quite tired of being outcasts in Poland, where they're disliked, and of suffering in Saxony. I hope this idea of mine will be considered and that it will succeed. Goodnight, and God bless you!
1759-1765
LETTER CCXXXVII
LETTER 237
LONDON, New-year’s Day, 1759
LONDON, New Year’s Day, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: ‘Molti e felici’, and I have done upon that subject, one truth being fair, upon the most lying day in the whole year.
MY DEAR FRIEND: 'Many and happy,' and I've reflected on that topic, one truth being fair, on the most deceitful day of the entire year.
I have now before me your last letter of the 21st December, which I am glad to find is a bill of health: but, however, do not presume too much upon it, but obey and honor your physician, “that thy days may be long in the land.”
I have your latest letter from December 21st in front of me, and I’m pleased to see it’s a clean bill of health. However, don’t take it for granted; make sure to listen to and respect your doctor, “so that your days may be long in the land.”
Since my last, I have heard nothing more concerning the ribband; but I take it for granted it will be disposed of soon. By the way, upon reflection, I am not sure that anybody but a knight can, according to form, be employed to make a knight. I remember that Sir Clement Cotterel was sent to Holland, to dub the late Prince of Orange, only because he was a knight himself; and I know that the proxies of knights, who cannot attend their own installations, must always be knights. This did not occur to me before, and perhaps will not to the person who was to recommend you: I am sure I will not stir it; and I only mention it now, that you may be in all events prepared for the disappointment, if it should happen.
Since my last message, I haven't heard anything else about the ribbon, but I assume it will be taken care of soon. By the way, upon reflection, I'm not sure that anyone other than a knight can officially be involved in making a knight. I remember that Sir Clement Cotterel was sent to Holland to knight the late Prince of Orange, simply because he was a knight himself; and I know that the proxies of knights, who can't attend their own ceremonies, must always be knights. This hadn't crossed my mind before, and it might not occur to the person who was supposed to recommend you. I definitely won’t bring it up; I just want to mention it now so you can be prepared for the disappointment if it happens.
G——-is exceedingly flattered with your account, that three thousand of his countrymen; all as little as himself, should be thought a sufficient guard upon three-and-twenty thousand of all the nations in Europe; not that he thinks himself, by any means, a little man, for when he would describe a tall handsome man, he raises himself up at least half an inch to represent him.
G——- is incredibly flattered by your account that three thousand of his fellow countrymen, all just as small as he is, are considered a sufficient defense against twenty-three thousand from all the nations in Europe. Not that he sees himself as small in any way; when he describes a tall, handsome man, he stands up at least half an inch taller to represent him.
The private news from Hamburg is, that his Majesty’s Resident there is woundily in love with Madame———-; if this be true, God send him, rather than her, a good DELIVERY! She must be ‘etrennee’ at this season, and therefore I think you should be so too: so draw upon me as soon as you please, for one hundred pounds.
The private news from Hamburg is that the King’s Representative there is deeply in love with Madame———-; if this is true, I hope God grants him, rather than her, a smooth delivery! She must be receiving gifts this season, and so I think you should too: so feel free to draw on me whenever you’d like, for one hundred pounds.
Here is nothing new, except the unanimity with which the parliament gives away a dozen of millions sterling; and the unanimity of the public is as great in approving of it, which has stifled the usual political and polemical argumentations.
Here’s nothing new, except for the agreement with which the parliament hands over a dozen million pounds; and the public's consensus is just as strong in supporting it, which has silenced the usual political debates and arguments.
Cardinal Bernis’s disgrace is as sudden, and hitherto as little understood, as his elevation was. I have seen his poems, printed at Paris, not by a friend, I dare say; and to judge by them, I humbly conceive his Eminency is a p——-y. I will say nothing of that excellent headpiece that made him and unmade him in the same month, except O KING, LIVE FOREVER.
Cardinal Bernis’s downfall is as unexpected and, until now, as unclear as his rise was. I’ve seen his poems, published in Paris, likely not by a friend; and judging by them, I humbly think his Eminency is a p——-y. I won’t comment on that brilliant mind that made him and broke him in the same month, except to say O KING, LIVE FOREVER.
Good-night to you, whoever you pass it with.
Good night to you, whoever you're with.
LETTER CCXXXVIII
LONDON, February 2, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: I am now (what I have very seldom been) two letters in your debt: the reason was, that my head, like many other heads, has frequently taken a wrong turn; in which case, writing is painful to me, and therefore cannot be very pleasant to my readers.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I am now (which is something that rarely happens) two letters behind in replying to you. The reason is that my mind, like many others, has often gone off track; in those moments, writing becomes difficult for me, and therefore probably isn't very enjoyable for my readers.
I wish you would (while you have so good an opportunity as you have at Hamburg) make yourself perfectly master of that dull but very useful knowledge, the course of exchange, and the causes of its almost perpetual variations; the value and relation of different coins, the specie, the banco, usances, agio, and a thousand other particulars. You may with ease learn, and you will be very glad when you have learned them; for, in your business, that sort of knowledge will often prove necessary.
I wish you would, while you have such a great opportunity in Hamburg, fully master that boring but very useful knowledge of exchange rates and the reasons behind their constant fluctuations; the value and relationship of different currencies, specie, banknotes, practices, premiums, and a thousand other details. You can easily learn this, and you'll be really glad you did because this kind of knowledge will often be necessary in your work.
I hear nothing more of Prince Ferdinand’s garter: that he will have one is very certain; but when, I believe, is very uncertain; all the other postulants wanting to be dubbed at the same time, which cannot be, as there is not ribband enough for them.
I don't hear anything more about Prince Ferdinand's garter: it's pretty certain that he'll get one; but when, I think, is very uncertain, since all the other candidates want to be knighted at the same time, which isn't possible, as there's not enough ribbon for all of them.
If the Russians move in time, and in earnest, there will be an end of our hopes and of our armies in Germany: three such mill-stones as Russia, France, and Austria, must, sooner or later, in the course of the year, grind his Prussian Majesty down to a mere MARGRAVE of Brandenburg. But I have always some hopes of a change under a ‘Gunarchy’—[Derived from the Greek word ‘Iuvn’ a woman, and means female government]—where whim and humor commonly prevail, reason very seldom, and then only by a lucky mistake.
If the Russians act quickly and seriously, it will lead to the end of our hopes and our armies in Germany: three heavyweights like Russia, France, and Austria will, sooner or later, wear down the Prussian King to nothing more than a MARGRAVE of Brandenburg. But I still hold onto some hope for a shift under a ‘Gunarchy’—[Derived from the Greek word ‘Iuvn’ meaning woman, and refers to female governance]—where caprice and mood often dominate, reason rarely enters, and then only by some fortunate accident.
I expect the incomparable fair one of Hamburg, that prodigy of beauty, and paragon of good sense, who has enslaved your mind, and inflamed your heart. If she is as well ‘etrennee’ as you say she shall, you will be soon out of her chains; for I have, by long experience, found women to be like Telephus’s spear, if one end kills, the other cures.
I expect the unmatched beauty from Hamburg, that wonder of attractiveness and model of good judgment, who has captivated your thoughts and set your heart on fire. If she is as well-liked as you say she is, you will soon break free from her hold; because, from my long experience, I've found women to be like Telephus's spear—one end can harm, while the other heals.
There never was so quiet, nor so silent a session of parliament as the present; Mr. Pitt declares only what he would have them do, and they do it ‘nemine contradicente’, Mr. Viner only expected.
There has never been a session of parliament as quiet or silent as this one; Mr. Pitt states what he wants them to do, and they do it 'without any objections,' as Mr. Viner only anticipated.
Duchess Hamilton is to be married, to-morrow, to Colonel Campbell, the son of General Campbell, who will some day or other be Duke of Argyle, and have the estate. She refused the Duke of B——-r for him.
Duchess Hamilton is getting married tomorrow to Colonel Campbell, the son of General Campbell, who will someday be the Duke of Argyle and inherit the estate. She turned down the Duke of B——-r for him.
Here is a report, but I believe a very groundless one, that your old acquaintance, the fair Madame C———e, is run away from her husband, with a jeweler, that ‘etrennes’ her, and is come over here; but I dare say it is some mistake, or perhaps a lie. Adieu! God bless you!
Here’s a report, but I think it’s pretty baseless, that your old acquaintance, the lovely Madame C———e, has run away from her husband with a jeweler who’s been giving her gifts, and she’s come over here. But I’m sure it’s some mix-up, or maybe just a lie. Goodbye! God bless you!
LETTER CCXXXIX
LONDON, February 27, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: In your last letter, of the 7th, you accuse me, most unjustly, of being in arrears in my correspondence; whereas, if our epistolary accounts were fairly liquidated, I believe you would be brought in considerably debtor. I do not see how any of my letters to you can miscarry, unless your office-packet miscarries too, for I always send them to the office. Moreover, I might have a justifiable excuse for writing to you seldomer than usual, for to be sure there never was a period of time, in the middle of a winter, and the parliament sitting, that supplied so little matter for a letter. Near twelve millions have been granted this year, not only ‘nemine contradicente’, but, ‘nemine quicquid dicente’. The proper officers bring in the estimates; it is taken for granted that they are necessary and frugal; the members go to dinner; and leave Mr. West and Mr. Martin to do the rest.
MY DEAR FRIEND: In your last letter from the 7th, you unfairly accuse me of falling behind in my correspondence; however, if we were to fairly settle our letter-writing accounts, I believe you would owe me quite a bit. I don’t see how any of my letters to you could go missing, unless your outgoing mail is getting lost too, since I always send them to the postal office. Furthermore, I might have a valid reason for writing to you less often than usual, because honestly, there hasn’t been a time during winter, while Parliament is in session, that provides so little to write about. Almost twelve million have been granted this year, not only ‘with no one opposing’, but ‘with no one saying anything at all’. The right officials present the estimates; it’s assumed that they are necessary and budget-friendly; the members head off to dinner; and leave Mr. West and Mr. Martin to handle the rest.
I presume you have seen the little poem of the “Country Lass,” by Soame Jenyns, for it was in the “Chronicle”; as was also an answer to it, from the “Monitor.” They are neither of them bad performances; the first is the neatest, and the plan of the second has the most invention. I send you none of those ‘pieces volantes’ in my letters, because they are all printed in one or other of the newspapers, particularly in the “Chronicles”; and I suppose that you and others have all those papers among you at Hamburg; in which case it would be only putting you to the unnecessary expense of double postage.
I assume you've seen the little poem "Country Lass" by Soame Jenyns since it was published in the "Chronicle," along with a response from the "Monitor." Both are decent works; the first is the tidiest, while the second has a more creative approach. I’m not including any of those ‘pieces volantes’ in my letters because they’ve all been printed in various newspapers, especially in the "Chronicles." I imagine you and others in Hamburg have those papers, so it would just lead to extra postal costs for you.
I find you are sanguine about the King of Prussia this year; I allow his army will be what you say; but what will that be ‘vis-a-vis’ French, Austrians, Imperialists, Swedes, and Russians, who must amount to more than double that number? Were the inequality less, I would allow for the King of Prussia’s being so much ‘ipse agmen’ as pretty nearly to balance the account. In war, numbers are generally my omens; and, I confess, that in Germany they seem not happy ones this year. In America. I think, we are sure of success, and great success; but how we shall be able to strike a balance, as they call it, between good success there, and ill success upon the continent, so as to come at a peace; is more than I can discover.
I see you're optimistic about the King of Prussia this year; I agree his army will be as you say. But what will that be compared to the French, Austrians, Imperialists, Swedes, and Russians, who must outnumber him by more than double? If the disparity were smaller, I might consider the King of Prussia's forces enough to nearly even the odds. In war, I usually rely on numbers, and I confess that in Germany, they don't look promising this year. In America, I believe we're certain to succeed, and succeed greatly; but how we can balance good success there with poor results on the continent to achieve peace is beyond me.
Lady Chesterfield makes you her compliments, and thanks you for your offer; but declines troubling you, being discouraged by the ill success of Madame Munchausen’s and Miss Chetwynd’s commissions, the former for beef, and the latter for gloves; neither of which have yet been executed, to the dissatisfaction of both. Adieu.
Lady Chesterfield sends her regards and appreciates your offer; however, she would prefer not to trouble you, feeling discouraged by the unsuccessful attempts with Madame Munchausen’s and Miss Chetwynd’s requests, the former for beef and the latter for gloves. Neither of these has been fulfilled yet, much to the disappointment of both. Goodbye.
LETTER CCXL
LONDON, March 16, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now your letter of the 20th past lying before me, by which you despond, in my opinion too soon, of dubbing your Prince; for he most certainly will have the Garter; and he will as probably have it before the campaign opens, as after. His campaign must, I doubt, at best be a defensive one; and he will show great skill in making it such; for according to my calculation, his enemies will be at least double his number. Their troops, indeed, may perhaps be worse than his; but then their number will make up that defect, as it will enable them to undertake different operations at the same time. I cannot think that the King of Denmark will take a part in the present war; which he cannot do without great possible danger; and he is well paid by France for his neutrality; is safe, let what will turn out; and, in the meantime, carries on his commerce with great advantage and security; so that that consideration will not retard your visit to your own country, whenever you have leave to return, and that your own ARRANGEMENTS will allow you. A short absence animates a tender passion, ‘et l’on ne recule que pour mieux sauter’, especially in the summer months; so that I would advise you to begin your journey in May, and continue your absence from the dear object of your vows till after the dog-days, when love is said to be unwholesome. We have been disappointed at Martinico; I wish we may not be so at Guadaloupe, though we are landed there; for many difficulties must be got over before we can be in possession of the whole island. A pro pos de bottes; you make use of two Spanish words, very properly, in your letter; were I you, I would learn the Spanish language, if there were a Spaniard at Hamburg who could teach me; and then you would be master of all the European languages that are useful; and, in my mind, it is very convenient, if not necessary, for a public man to understand them all, and not to be obliged to have recourse to an interpreter for those papers that chance or business may throw in his way. I learned Spanish when I was older than you; convinced by experience that, in everything possible, it was better to trust to one’s self than to any other body whatsoever. Interpreters, as well as relaters, are often unfaithful, and still oftener incorrect, puzzling, and blundering. In short, let it be your maxim through life to know all you can know, yourself; and never to trust implicitly to the informations of others. This rule has been of infinite service to me in the course of my life.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have your letter from the 20th sitting in front of me, in which you seem to give up too soon on making your Prince a Knight of the Garter; he will definitely receive it, and it’s likely he’ll get it before the campaign starts rather than after. I worry that his campaign will mainly be defensive, but he’ll show great skill in managing that. Based on my calculations, his enemies will outnumber him at least two to one. Their troops might be less capable, but their larger numbers will allow them to run multiple operations simultaneously. I don’t think the King of Denmark will join the current war; doing so would pose significant risks for him, and he’s being well compensated by France for staying neutral. He’s safe no matter what happens, and in the meantime, he’s benefiting from trade with great security. So, this shouldn’t delay your return to your country whenever you get the chance and your own plans allow. A brief absence can revive a romantic passion, ‘et l’on ne recule que pour mieux sauter’, especially in the summer months; so I suggest you start your journey in May and stay away from your beloved until after the hottest days, when love is said to be less healthy. We’ve been let down in Martinique; I hope we aren’t disappointed in Guadeloupe, even though we’ve landed there; we’ll face many challenges before we can control the entire island. Speaking of language, you’ve used two Spanish words correctly in your letter; if I were you, I’d learn Spanish, especially if you can find a Spaniard in Hamburg to teach you. That way, you’d master all the useful European languages. In my opinion, it’s very useful, if not essential, for a public figure to understand them all without needing to rely on an interpreter for documents that might come your way. I learned Spanish when I was older than you, realizing through experience that it’s better to rely on yourself than on anyone else. Interpreters, much like storytellers, can be untrustworthy and often make mistakes, causing confusion and blunders. In short, make it your goal throughout life to learn as much as you can for yourself and never to fully trust the information of others. This rule has served me incredibly well throughout my life.
I am rather better than I was; which I owe not to my physicians, but to an ass and a cow, who nourish me, between them, very plentifully and wholesomely; in the morning the ass is my nurse, at night the cow; and I have just now, bought a milch-goat, which is to graze, and nurse me at Blackheath. I do not know what may come of this latter, and I am not without apprehensions that it may make a satyr of me; but, should I find that obscene disposition growing upon me, I will check it in time, for fear of endangering my life and character by rapes. And so we heartily bid you farewell.
I'm doing a lot better than I was; I owe it not to my doctors, but to a donkey and a cow, who feed me very well and healthily. In the morning, the donkey takes care of me, and at night, the cow does. I just bought a milking goat, which will graze and provide for me at Blackheath. I don’t know what to expect from this, and I'm a bit worried it might turn me into a wild man; but if I notice that kind of behavior starting to take hold, I'll rein it in before it jeopardizes my life and reputation. So, we sincerely say goodbye.
LETTER CCXLI
LONDON, March 30, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: I do not like these frequent, however short, returns of your illness; for I doubt they imply either want of skill in your physician, or want of care in his patient. Rhubarb, soap, and chalybeate medicines and waters, are almost always specifics for obstructions of the liver; but then a very exact regimen is necessary, and that for a long continuance. Acids are good for you, but you do not love them; and sweet things are bad for you, and you do love them. There is another thing very bad for you, and I fear you love it too much. When I was in Holland, I had a slow fever that hung upon me a great while; I consulted Boerhaave, who prescribed me what I suppose was proper, for it cured me; but he added, by way of postscript to his prescription, ‘Venus rarius colatur’; which I observed, and perhaps that made the medicines more effectual.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I don’t like these frequent, even if brief, bouts of your illness; I doubt they indicate either a lack of skill in your doctor or a lack of care on your part. Rhubarb, soap, and iron-based medicines and waters are usually effective for liver blockages; however, a strict regimen is essential, and that needs to last for some time. Acids are good for you, but you don’t like them; and sugary foods are bad for you, but you do love them. There’s one more thing that’s very harmful to you, and I worry you enjoy it too much. When I was in Holland, I had a lingering fever that lasted quite a while; I consulted Boerhaave, who prescribed something I think was appropriate because it cured me; but he added, as a postscript to his prescription, ‘Engage in less intimacy’; which I followed, and perhaps that made the medicines more effective.
I doubt we shall be mutually disappointed in our hopes of seeing one another this spring, as I believe you will find, by a letter which you will receive at the same time with this, from Lord Holderness; but as Lord Holderness will not tell you all, I will, between you and me, supply that defect. I must do him the justice to say that he has acted in the most kind and friendly manner possible to us both. When the King read your letter, in which you desired leave to return, for the sake of drinking the Tunbridge waters, he said, “If he wants steel waters, those of Pyrmont are better than Tunbridge, and he can have them very fresh at Hamburg. I would rather he had asked me to come last autumn, and had passed the winter here; for if he returns now, I shall have nobody in those quarters to inform me of what passes; and yet it will be a very busy and important scene.” Lord Holderness, who found that it would not be liked, resolved to push it no further; and replied, he was very sure that when you knew his Majesty had the least objection to your return at this time, you would think of it no longer; and he owned that he (Lord Holderness) had given you encouragement for this application last year, then thinking and hoping that there would be little occasion for your presence at Hamburg this year. Lord Holderness will only tell you, in his letter, that, as he had some reason to believe his moving this matter would be disagreeable to the King, he resolved, for your sake, not to mention it. You must answer his letter upon that footing simply, and thank him for this mark of his friendship, for he has really acted as your friend. I make no doubt of your having willing leave to return in autumn, for the whole winter. In the meantime, make the best of your ‘sejour’ where you are; drink the Pyrmont waters, and no wine but Rhenish, which, in your case is the only proper one for you.
I doubt we'll be disappointed in our hopes of seeing each other this spring, as you’ll find out from a letter you’ll get at the same time as this one from Lord Holderness. But since Lord Holderness won't tell you everything, I’ll fill in the gaps privately. I have to give him credit for being as kind and friendly as possible to both of us. When the King read your letter requesting permission to return for the Tunbridge waters, he said, “If he wants mineral waters, those from Pyrmont are better than Tunbridge, and he can have them fresh in Hamburg. I would have preferred if he had asked me to come last autumn and spent the winter here; because if he returns now, I won’t have anyone around to inform me about what’s happening, and it’s going to be a busy and important time.” Lord Holderness realized that this wouldn't be received well, so he decided to let it go. He replied that he was sure once you knew the King had any objections to your return right now, you wouldn’t think about it anymore; and he admitted that he (Lord Holderness) had encouraged you to make this request last year, believing and hoping there would be little need for your presence in Hamburg this year. Lord Holderness will only mention in his letter that since he had some reason to believe bringing this up would not sit well with the King, he decided not to mention it for your sake. You should reply to his letter straightforwardly, thanking him for this sign of his friendship because he has truly acted as your ally. I have no doubt you’ll get permission to return in the autumn for the entire winter. In the meantime, make the most of your stay where you are; drink the Pyrmont waters, and only have Rhenish wine, as that’s the best option for you.
Next week Mr. Harte will send you his “Gustavus Adolphus,” in two quartos; it will contain many new particulars of the life of that real hero, as he has had abundant and authentic materials, which have never yet appeared. It will, upon the whole, be a very curious and valuable history; though, between you and me, I could have wished that he had been more correct and elegant in his style. You will find it dedicated to one of your acquaintance, who was forced to prune the luxuriant praises bestowed upon him, and yet has left enough of all conscience to satisfy a reasonable man. Harte has been very much out of order these last three or four months, but is not the less intent upon sowing his lucerne, of which he had six crops last year, to his infinite joy, and, as he says, profit. As a gardener, I shall probably have as much joy, though not quite so much profit, by thirty or forty shillings; for there is the greatest promise of fruit this year at ‘Blackheath, that ever I saw in my life. Vertumnus and Pomona have been very propitious to me: as for Priapus, that tremendous garden god, as I no longer invoke him, I cannot expect his protection from the birds and the thieves.
Next week, Mr. Harte will send you his “Gustavus Adolphus” in two quartos. It will include many new details about the life of that true hero, as he has gathered plenty of authentic materials that have never been published before. Overall, it will be a very interesting and valuable account, although, between you and me, I wish he had been more precise and polished in his writing. You’ll find it dedicated to someone you know, who had to tone down the excessive praise given to him, but still left enough to satisfy a reasonable person. Harte has been feeling quite unwell these last three or four months, but he’s still focused on sowing his lucerne, of which he had six harvests last year, to his great delight and, as he says, profit. As a gardener, I’ll probably find as much joy, though not quite as much profit, from thirty or forty shillings; because there is great promise of fruit this year at ‘Blackheath, more than I’ve ever seen in my life. Vertumnus and Pomona have been very kind to me: as for Priapus, that formidable garden god, since I no longer call on him, I can’t expect his protection from the birds and thieves.
Adieu! I will conclude like a pedant, ‘Levius fit patientia quicquid corrigere est nefas.’
Adieu! I will wrap up like a know-it-all, ‘Patience makes it easier to bear whatever is wrong to correct.’
LETTER CCXLII
LONDON, April 16, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: With humble submission to you, I still say that if Prince Ferdinand can make a defensive campaign this year, he will have done a great deal, considering the great inequality of numbers. The little advantages of taking a regiment or two prisoners, or cutting another to pieces, are but trifling articles in the great account; they are only the pence, the pounds are yet to come; and I take it for granted, that neither the French, nor the Court of Vienna, will have ‘le dementi’ of their main object, which is unquestionably Hanover; for that is the ‘summa summarum’; and they will certainly take care to draw a force together for this purpose, too great for any that Prince Ferdinand has, or can have, to oppose them. In short, mark the end on’t, ‘j’en augure mal’. If France, Austria, the Empire, Russia, and Sweden, are not, at long run, too hard for the two Electors of Hanover and Brandenburg, there must be some invisible power, some tutelar deities, that miraculously interpose in favor of the latter.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I humbly submit to you that if Prince Ferdinand can manage a defensive campaign this year, he will have accomplished a lot, given the significant difference in numbers. The small gains from capturing a regiment or two, or defeating another, are just minor details in the bigger picture; they are the pennies, while the pounds are yet to come. I assume that neither the French nor the Court of Vienna will back down from their main goal, which is clearly Hanover; that is the ultimate target. They will surely gather a force that is too strong for any that Prince Ferdinand has or can muster against them. In short, keep an eye on the outcome; I have a bad feeling about it. If France, Austria, the Empire, Russia, and Sweden don't ultimately prove too much for the two Electors of Hanover and Brandenburg, there must be some invisible force, some guardian spirits, that are miraculously intervening on behalf of the latter.
You encourage me to accept all the powers that goats, asses, and bulls, can give me, by engaging for my not making an ill use of them; but I own, I cannot help distrusting myself a little, or rather human nature; for it is an old and very true observation, that there are misers of money, but none of power; and the non-use of the one, and the abuse of the other, increase in proportion to their quantity.
You urge me to embrace all the power that goats, donkeys, and bulls can offer me, promising that I won’t misuse it; but I must admit, I can’t help feeling a bit skeptical, or more accurately, about human nature. It’s a well-known and accurate saying that there are people who hoard money, but none who hoard power; and the lack of use of one and the misuse of the other tend to grow as their amounts increase.
I am very sorry to tell you that Harte’s “Gustavus Adolphus” does not take at all, and consequently sells very little: it is certainly informing, and full of good matter; but it is as certain too, that the style is execrable: where the devil he picked it up, I cannot conceive, for it is a bad style, of a new and singular kind; it is full of Latinisms, Gallicisms, Germanisms, and all isms but Anglicisms; in some places pompous, in others vulgar and low. Surely, before the end of the world, people, and you in particular, will discover that the MANNER, in everything, is at least as important as the matter; and that the latter never can please, without a good degree of elegance in the former. This holds true in everything in life: in writing, conversing, business, the help of the Graces is absolutely necessary; and whoever vainly thinks himself above them, will find he is mistaken when it will be too late to court them, for they will not come to strangers of an advanced age. There is an history lately come out, of the “Reign of Mary Queen of Scots” and her son (no matter by whom) King James, written by one Robertson, a Scotchman, which for clearness, purity, and dignity of style, I will not scruple to compare with the best historians extant, not excepting Davila, Guicciardini, and perhaps Livy. Its success has consequently been great, and a second edition is already published and bought up. I take it for granted, that it is to be had, or at least borrowed, at Hamburg, or I would send it to you.
I'm really sorry to tell you that Harte's "Gustavus Adolphus" isn't doing well and is selling very little. It’s definitely informative and has a lot of good content, but the style is absolutely dreadful. I can’t understand where he learned to write like that; it’s a bad style of a new and unusual kind. It’s loaded with Latin, French, German influences, and all kinds of other isms except for good old English. Sometimes it sounds pompous, while at other times it’s just crude and low. Surely, before the end of the world, people—especially you—will figure out that the way something is presented is at least as important as the content itself, and that the content can’t please without a fair amount of elegance in the way it’s expressed. This is true for everything in life: in writing, speaking, business, the help of charm is absolutely essential; and whoever foolishly thinks they can do without it will realize their mistake too late, as it won’t come easily to older strangers. There’s a new history out about the "Reign of Mary Queen of Scots" and her son (regardless of who wrote it) King James, written by a Scotsman named Robertson, which I would confidently compare to the best historians available, including Davila, Guicciardini, and maybe even Livy, in terms of clarity, purity, and dignity of style. Its success has been huge, and a second edition has already been published and sold out. I assume it’s available, or at least can be borrowed, in Hamburg, or I would send it to you.
I hope you drink the Pyrmont waters every morning. The health of the mind depends so much upon the health of the body, that the latter deserves the utmost attention, independently of the senses. God send you a very great share of both! Adieu.
I hope you drink the Pyrmont waters every morning. Your mental health relies heavily on your physical health, so it deserves your full attention, regardless of how you feel. Wishing you a lot of both! Goodbye.
LETTER CCXLIII
LONDON, April 27, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received your two letters of the 10th and 13th, by the last mail; and I will begin my answer to them, by observing to you that a wise man, without being a Stoic, considers, in all misfortunes that befall him, their best as well as their worst side; and everything has a better and a worse side. I have strictly observed that rule for many years, and have found by experience that some comfort is to be extracted, under most moral ills, by considering them in every light, instead of dwelling, as people are too apt to do, upon the gloomy side of the object. Thank God, the disappointment that you so pathetically groan under, is not a calamity which admits of no consolation. Let us simplify it, and see what it amounts to. You are pleased with the expectation of coming here next month, to see those who would have been pleased with seeing you. That, from very natural causes, cannot be, and you must pass this summer at Hamburg, and next winter in England, instead of passing this summer in England, and next winter at Hamburg. Now, estimating things fairly, is not the change rather to your advantage? Is not the summer more eligible, both for health and pleasure, than the winter, in that northern frozen zone? And will not the winter in England supply you with more pleasures than the summer, in an empty capital, could have done? So far then it appears, that you are rather a gainer by your misfortune.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I've received your two letters from the 10th and 13th in the last mail, and I want to start my response by saying that a wise person, even without being a Stoic, considers both the best and the worst aspects of the misfortunes they face; everything has its ups and downs. I've kept to this idea for many years and have found that some comfort can be gained from viewing moral troubles from different angles, instead of focusing solely on the negative side. Thank God, the disappointment that you’re so dramatically lamenting is not an issue that offers no consolation. Let’s break it down and see what it really means. You’re looking forward to coming here next month to see those who would have loved to see you. However, for very understandable reasons, that can't happen, and you'll have to spend this summer in Hamburg and next winter in England, instead of enjoying this summer in England and the next winter in Hamburg. Now, if you look at it fairly, isn't the change actually in your favor? Isn’t summer better for both health and enjoyment than winter in that cold northern region? And won't spending winter in England provide you with more enjoyment than a summer could in a deserted capital? So it seems you’re actually better off because of your misfortune.
The TOUR too, which you propose making to Lubeck, Altena, etc., will both amuse and inform you; for, at your age, one cannot see too many different places and people; since at the age you are now of, I take it for granted that you will not see them superficially, as you did when you first went abroad.
The trip you plan to Lubeck, Altena, and so on, will both entertain and educate you; because at your age, you can never see too many different places and meet new people. I assume that now, you won’t view them only on the surface like you did the first time you traveled abroad.
This whole matter then, summed up, amounts to no more than this—that you will be here next winter, instead of this summer. Do not think that all I have said is the consolation only of an old philosophical fellow, almost insensible of pleasure or pain, offered to a young fellow who has quick sensations of both. No, it is the rational philosophy taught me by experience and knowledge of the world, and which I have practiced above thirty years.
This entire situation can be summed up like this—you'll be here next winter instead of this summer. Don’t think that what I’ve said is just the comfort of an old philosophical guy, nearly numb to pleasure or pain, given to a young man who feels both intensely. No, this is the practical wisdom I’ve gained from over thirty years of experience and understanding the world.
I always made the best of the best, and never made bad worse by fretting; this enabled me to go through the various scenes of life in which I have been an actor, with more pleasure and less pain than most people. You will say, perhaps, one cannot change one’s nature; and that if a person is born of a very sensible, gloomy temper, and apt to see things in the worst light, they cannot help it, nor new-make themselves. I will admit it, to a certain degree; and but to a certain degree; for though we cannot totally change our nature, we may in a great measure correct it, by reflection and philosophy; and some philosophy is a very necessary companion in this world, where, even to the most fortunate, the chances are greatly against happiness.
I always made the most of every situation and never made things worse by worrying; this helped me navigate the different stages of life I’ve experienced with more joy and less pain than most people. You might say that one cannot change their nature and that if someone is born with a sensible, gloomy temperament inclined to see things negatively, they can’t help it or reinvent themselves. I’ll agree to an extent; however, while we can’t completely change our nature, we can significantly improve it through reflection and philosophy. And some philosophy is an essential companion in this world, where, even for the luckiest, the odds are stacked against happiness.
I am not old enough, nor tenacious enough, to pretend not to understand the main purport of your last letter; and to show you that I do, you may draw upon me for two hundred pounds, which, I hope, will more than clear you.
I'm not old enough or stubborn enough to pretend I don’t get the main point of your last letter; and to prove that I do, you can count on me for two hundred pounds, which I hope will cover you completely.
Good-night: ‘aquam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem’: Be neither transported nor depressed by the accidents of life.
Good night: ‘Remember to keep your mind steady in difficult times’: Don’t let the ups and downs of life overwhelm you or bring you down.
LETTER CCXLIV
BLACKHEATH, May 16, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your secretary’s last letter of the 4th, which I received yesterday, has quieted my fears a good deal, but has not entirely dissipated them. YOUR FEVER STILL CONTINUES, he says, THOUGH IN A LESS DEGREE. Is it a continued fever, or an intermitting one? If the former, no wonder that you are weak, and that your head aches. If the latter, why has not the bark, in substance and large doses, been administered? for if it had, it must have stopped it by this time. Next post, I hope, will set me quite at ease. Surely you have not been so regular as you ought, either in your medicines or in your general regimen, otherwise this fever would not have returned; for the Doctor calls it, YOUR FEVER RETURNED, as if you had an exclusive patent for it. You have now had illnesses enough, to know the value of health, and to make you implicitly follow the prescriptions of your physician in medicines, and the rules of your own common sense in diet; in which, I can assure you, from my own experience, that quantity is often worse than quality; and I would rather eat half a pound of bacon at a meal, than two pounds of any the most wholesome food.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your secretary’s last letter from the 4th, which I received yesterday, has eased my worries quite a bit, but hasn't completely removed them. YOUR FEVER IS STILL GOING ON, he says, THOUGH LESS SEVERE. Is it a continuous fever or an intermittent one? If it’s continuous, it’s no wonder you feel weak and have a headache. If it’s intermittent, why hasn’t the bark been given in sufficient quantities and large doses? Because if it had, it should have taken care of it by now. I hope the next letter will put me at ease completely. Surely you haven’t been as consistent as you should be, either with your medications or your overall routine, or this fever wouldn’t have come back; the Doctor refers to it as YOUR FEVER RETURNED, as if you hold an exclusive license for it. You’ve faced enough health issues to understand the importance of being healthy and to follow your doctor’s advice about medications and to use your own common sense about diet; and from my own experience, I can assure you that sometimes quantity can be worse than quality; I’d rather eat half a pound of bacon in one meal than two pounds of any other healthy food.
I have been settled here near a week, to my great satisfaction; ‘c’est ma place’, and I know it, which is not given to everybody. Cut off from social life by my deafness, as well as other physical ills, and being at best but the ghost of my former self, I walk here in silence and solitude as becomes a ghost: with this only difference, that I walk by day, whereas, you know, to be sure, that other ghosts only appear by night. My health, however, is better than it was last year, thanks to my almost total milk diet. This enables me to vary my solitary amusements, and alternately to scribble as well as read, which I could not do last year. Thus I saunter away the remainder, be it more or less, of an agitated and active life, now reduced (and I am not sure that I am a loser by the change) to so quiet and serene a one, that it may properly be called still life.
I’ve been settled here for almost a week, and I’m really happy about it; "this is my place," and I know it, which not everyone gets to experience. Cut off from social life because of my deafness and other physical issues, and being at best just a shadow of my former self, I walk here in silence and solitude like a ghost: with one difference, I walk during the day, while, as you know, other ghosts only come out at night. My health is actually better than it was last year, thanks to my almost complete milk diet. This lets me mix up my solitary activities and alternate between writing and reading, which I couldn’t do last year. So I spend the rest of my time, however much or little that may be, in a calm and peaceful way, now transformed (and I’m not sure I’m worse off for it) into such a tranquil existence that it could be called still life.
The French whisper in confidence, in order that it may be the more known and the more credited, that they intend to invade us this year, in no less than three places; that is England, Scotland, and Ireland. Some of our great men, like the devils, believe and tremble; others, and one little one whom I know, laugh at it; and, in general, it seems to be but a poor, instead of a formidable scarecrow. While somebody was at the head of a moderate army, and wanted (I know why) to be at the head of a great one, intended invasions were made an article of political faith; and the belief of them was required, as in the Church the belief of some absurdities, and even impossibilities, is required upon pain of heresy, excommunication, and consequently damnation, if they tend to the power and interest of the heads of the Church. But now that there is a general toleration, and that the best subjects, as well as the best Christians, may believe what their reasons find their consciences suggest, it is generally and rationally supposed the French will threaten and not strike, since we are so well prepared, both by armies and fleets, to receive and, I may add, to destroy them. Adieu! God bless you.
The French are quietly saying that they plan to invade us this year in at least three places: England, Scotland, and Ireland. Some of our prominent figures, like scaredy-cats, believe it and are anxious; others, including one guy I know, laugh it off, making it seem more like a weak scare tactic than a real threat. When someone was leading a small army and wanted (I know the reason) to take charge of a larger one, the idea of invasions became a popular political belief, similar to how the Church requires belief in some nonsense or even impossible things under the threat of heresy, excommunication, and sin if it helps those in power. But now, with a general sense of tolerance, even the best citizens and Christians can follow their own reasoning and beliefs. It’s increasingly believed that the French will just make threats without acting since we’re so well-prepared with our armies and fleets to confront—and, I might add, defeat—them. Goodbye! God bless you.
LETTER CCXLV
BLACKHEATH, June 15, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your letter of the 5th, which I received yesterday, gave me great satisfaction, being all in your own hand; though it contains great, and I fear just complaints of your ill state of health. You do very well to change the air; and I hope that change will do well by you. I would therefore have you write after the 20th of August, to Lord Holderness, to beg of him to obtain his Majesty’s leave for you to return to England for two or three months, upon account of your health. Two or three months is an indefinite time, which may afterward insensibly stretched to what length one pleases; leave that to me. In the meantime, you may be taking your measures with the best economy.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from the 5th yesterday, and it made me very happy to see it in your own handwriting; however, it also had serious, and I fear valid, concerns about your poor health. It’s smart for you to change your surroundings, and I hope it helps you feel better. I would suggest that you write to Lord Holderness after August 20th and ask him to request permission from His Majesty for you to return to England for two or three months for your health. Two or three months is a vague timeframe, which could easily extend to as long as needed; I’ll handle that part. In the meantime, you can plan your next steps in the most economical way.
The day before yesterday, an express arrived from Guadaloupe which brought an account of our being in possession of the whole island. And I make no manner of doubt but that, in about two months, we shall have as good news from Crown-point, Quebec, etc. Our affairs in Germany, I fear, will not be equally prosperous; for I have very little hopes for the King of Prussia or Prince Ferdinand. God bless you.
The day before yesterday, an express arrived from Guadaloupe that reported we now have control of the entire island. I have no doubt that in about two months, we’ll receive similar good news from Crown-point, Quebec, etc. Unfortunately, I’m not as optimistic about our situation in Germany; I have very little hope for the King of Prussia or Prince Ferdinand. Take care.
LETTER CCXLVI
BLACKHEATH, June 25, 1759
MY DEAR FRIEND: The two last mails have brought me no letter from you or your secretary. I will take this as a sign that you are better; but, however, if you thought that I cared to know, you should have cared to have written. Here the weather has been very fine for a fortnight together, a longer term than in this climate we are used to hold fine weather by. I hope it is so, too, at Hamburg, or at least at the villa to which you are gone; but pray do not let it be your ‘villa viciosa’, as those retirements are often called, and too often prove; though, by the way, the original name was ‘villa vezzosa’; and by wags miscalled ‘viciosa’.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The last two letters I received didn’t have anything from you or your assistant. I’ll take this as a good sign that you’re feeling better; however, if you thought I cared to know, you should have taken the time to write. The weather here has been really nice for two weeks, which is a longer stretch of good weather than we usually get in this climate. I hope it’s nice in Hamburg too, or at least at the villa where you’ve gone; but please don’t let it be your ‘villa viciosa,’ as those getaways are often called, and all too often they turn out that way; although, by the way, the original name was ‘villa vezzosa,’ and some jokesters misnamed it ‘viciosa.’
I have a most gloomy prospect of affairs in Germany; the French are already in possession of Cassel, and of the learned part of Hanover, that is Gottingen; where I presume they will not stop ‘pour l’amour des belles lettres’, but rather go on to the capital, and study them upon the coin. My old acquaintance, Monsieur Richelieu, made a great progress there in metallic learning and inscriptions. If Prince Ferdinand ventures a battle to prevent it, I dread the consequences; the odds are too great against him. The King of Prussia is still in a worse situation; for he has the Hydra to encounter; and though he may cut off a head or two, there will still be enough left to devour him at last. I have, as you know, long foretold the now approaching catastrophe; but I was Cassandra. Our affairs in the new world have a much more pleasing aspect; Guadaloupe is a great acquisition, and Quebec, which I make no doubt of, will still be greater. But must all these advantages, purchased at the price of so much English blood and treasure, be at last sacrificed as a peace-offering? God knows what consequences such a measure may produce; the germ of discontent is already great, upon the bare supposition of the case; but should it be realized, it will grow to a harvest of disaffection.
I have a really bleak view of things in Germany; the French already have control of Cassel and the academic center of Hanover, which is Göttingen. I doubt they'll stop there ‘for the love of literature,’ but will likely march on to the capital and turn their attention to the money. My old friend, Monsieur Richelieu, made significant progress in studying metals and inscriptions there. If Prince Ferdinand goes into battle to prevent this, I fear the consequences; the odds are too stacked against him. The King of Prussia is in an even worse position; he has a multi-headed monster to face, and even if he manages to cut off a few heads, there will still be plenty left to ultimately consume him. As you know, I have long predicted this impending disaster; but I was disregarded like Cassandra. Our situation in the New World looks much more promising; Guadaloupe is a significant gain, and Quebec, which I have no doubt we will secure, will be even greater. But do all these gains, bought at the cost of so much English blood and treasure, have to be sacrificed as a peace offering? God knows what such a move could lead to; the seeds of discontent are already substantial, just from considering the possibility, but if it actually happens, it will turn into a full-blown problem of dissatisfaction.
You are now, to be sure, taking the previous necessary measures for your return here in the autumn and I think you may disband your whole family, excepting your secretary, your butler, who takes care of your plate, wine, etc., one or at most two, maid servants, and your valet de chambre and one footman, whom you will bring over with you. But give no mortal, either there or here, reason to think that you are not to return to Hamburg again. If you are asked about it, say, like Lockhart, that you are ‘le serviteur des Evenemens’; for your present appointments will do you no hurt here, till you have some better destination. At that season of the year, I believe it will be better for you to come by sea than by land, but that you will be best able to judge of from the then circumstances of your part in the world.
You are definitely taking the necessary steps for your return here in the fall, and I think you can let your whole family go, except for your secretary, your butler who handles your dishes, wine, etc., one or two maids, your valet, and one footman, whom you will bring with you. But don’t give anyone, either there or here, a reason to think that you don’t plan to come back to Hamburg. If anyone asks, say, like Lockhart, that you are ‘the servant of Events’; your current roles won’t hurt you here until you have a better opportunity. At that time of year, I believe it will be better for you to come by sea rather than by land, but you’ll be best able to judge based on the circumstances in your part of the world at that time.
Your old friend Stevens is dead of the consumption that has long been undermining him. God bless you, and send you health.
Your old friend Stevens has died from the tuberculosis that has been weakening him for a long time. Take care, and I wish you good health.
[Another two year lapse in the letters. D.W.] LETTER CCXLVII
[Another two year lapse in the letters. D.W.] LETTER CCXLVII
BATH, February 26, 1761.
BATH, February 26, 1761.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I am very glad to hear that your election is finally settled, and to say the truth, not sorry that Mr.——has been compelled to do, ‘de mauvaise grace’, that which he might have done at first in a friendly and handsome manner. However, take no notice of what is passed, and live with him as you used to do before; for, in the intercourse of the world, it is often necessary to seem ignorant of what one knows, and to have forgotten what one remembers.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I’m really glad to hear that your election is finally settled, and honestly, I'm not sorry that Mr.——has had to do, ‘with bad grace’, what he could have done from the start in a friendly and decent way. However, don’t dwell on what’s happened, and interact with him as you used to; because, in dealing with people, it’s often necessary to act like you don’t know what you know and to forget what you remember.
I have just now finished Coleman’s play, and like it very well; it is well conducted, and the characters are well preserved. I own, I expected from the author more dialogue wit; but, as I know that he is a most scrupulous classic, I believe he did not dare to put in half so much wit as he could have done, because Terence had not a single grain; and it would have been ‘crimen laesae antiquitatis’. God bless you!
I just finished Coleman’s play and really liked it; it's well put together, and the characters are well developed. I have to say, I was expecting more clever dialogue from the author, but since I know he’s very careful with classic styles, I think he held back on the wit because Terence didn’t include any, and that would have been considered a violation of tradition. Take care!
LETTER CCXLVIII
BATH, November 21, 1761.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 19th. If I find any alterations by drinking these waters, now six days, it is rather for the better; but, in six days more, I think I shall find with more certainty what humor they are in with me; if kind, I will profit of, but not abuse their kindness; all things have their bounds, ‘quos ultra citrave nequit consistere rectum’; and I will endeavor to nick that point.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I just received your letter from the 19th. If I notice any changes from drinking these waters, which I've been doing for six days, it seems to be for the better. However, in another six days, I believe I'll have a clearer idea of how they are affecting me; if they are beneficial, I will take advantage of it but not take their kindness for granted. Everything has its limits, "which, if pushed too far, cannot remain right"; and I will try to find that balance.
The Queen’s jointure is larger than, from SOME REASONS, I expected it would be, though not greater than the very last precedent authorized. The case of the late Lord Wilmington was, I fancy, remembered.
The Queen’s jointure is bigger than I expected for a few reasons, but not larger than the most recent precedent that was set. I think people might recall the case of the late Lord Wilmington.
I have now good reason to believe that Spain will declare war to us, that is, that it will very soon, if it has not already, avowedly assist France, in case the war continues. This will be a great triumph to Mr. Pitt, and fully justify his plan of beginning with Spain first, and having the first blow, which is often half the battle.
I now have good reason to believe that Spain will declare war on us, meaning it will soon, if it hasn't already, openly support France if the war goes on. This will be a huge victory for Mr. Pitt and completely justify his strategy of starting with Spain first and striking the first blow, which is often half the battle.
Here is a great deal of company, and what is commonly called good company, that is, great quality. I trouble them very little, except at the pump, where my business calls me; for what is company to a deaf man, or a deaf man to company?
There's a lot of company here, and what people usually call good company, meaning high quality. I bother them very little, except at the pump, where my work takes me; because what’s company to a deaf person, or a deaf person to company?
Lady Brown, whom I have seen, and who, by the way, has got the gout in her eye, inquired very tenderly after you. And so I elegantly rest, Yours, till death.
Lady Brown, whom I've seen, and who, by the way, has gout in her eye, asked very kindly about you. So I gracefully remain, yours until death.
LETTER CCXLIX
BATH, December 6, 1761.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have been in your debt some time, which, you know, I am not very apt to be: but it was really for want of specie to pay. The present state of my invention does not enable me to coin; and you would have had as little pleasure in reading, as I should have in writing ‘le coglionerie’ of this place; besides, that I am very little mingled in them. I do not know whether I shall be able to follow, your advice, and cut a winner; for, at present, I have neither won nor lost a single shilling. I will play on this week only; and if I have a good run, I will carry it off with me; if a bad one, the loss can hardly amount to anything considerable in seven days, for I hope to see you in town to-morrow sevennight.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I've owed you for a while now, which is unusual for me, but I really didn't have the cash to pay you. Right now, my creativity isn't flowing enough for me to produce anything worthwhile; you'd find just as little enjoyment in reading it as I would have in writing about the foolishness happening here, especially since I'm not involved in it much. I'm not sure if I can take your advice and go for a win because, at the moment, I haven't gained or lost even a single penny. I'll only be playing this week, and if I have a good streak, I'll take what I win with me; if it's a bad one, the loss won’t be too significant over just seven days, since I expect to see you in town next week.
I had a dismal letter from Harte, last week; he tells me that he is at nurse with a sister in Berkshire; that he has got a confirmed jaundice, besides twenty other distempers. The true cause of these complaints I take to be the same that so greatly disordered, and had nearly destroyed the most august House of Austria, about one hundred and thirty years ago; I mean Gustavus Adolphus; who neither answered his expectations in point of profit nor reputation, and that merely by his own fault, in not writing it in the vulgar tongue; for as to facts I will maintain that it is one of the best histories extant.
I received a gloomy letter from Harte last week; he told me he’s staying with a sister in Berkshire, and he has jaundice, along with a bunch of other illnesses. I believe the real reason for his problems is the same as what almost tore apart the great House of Austria around one hundred and thirty years ago; I mean Gustavus Adolphus, who didn’t meet expectations in terms of profit or reputation, and that was entirely his fault for not writing it in plain language; as for the facts, I’ll argue that it’s one of the best histories out there.
‘Au revoir’, as Sir Fopling says, and God bless you!
'Goodbye,' as Sir Fopling says, and God bless you!
LETTER CCL
BATH, November 2, 1762.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here, as I proposed, last Sunday; but as ill as I feared I should be when I saw you. Head, stomach, and limbs, all out of order.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I got here, as I planned, last Sunday; but I felt worse than I expected when I saw you. My head, stomach, and limbs were all out of sorts.
I have yet seen nobody but Villettes, who is settled here for good, as it is called. What consequences has the Duke of Devonshire’s resignation had? He has considerable connections and relations; but whether any of them are resigned enough to resign with him, is another matter. There will be, to be sure, as many, and as absurd reports, as there are in the law books; I do not desire to know either; but inform me of what facts come to your knowledge, and of such reports only as you believe are grounded. And so God bless you!
I haven't seen anyone here except for Villettes, who is settled here for good, as they say. What impact has the Duke of Devonshire's resignation had? He has a lot of connections and relatives, but whether any of them are willing to resign with him is a different story. There will definitely be as many ridiculous rumors as there are in legal books; I don’t want to hear about those either. Just let me know the facts you come across and only those rumors that you think are true. And God bless you!
LETTER CCLI
BATH, November 13, 1762.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received your letter, and believe that your preliminaries are very near the mark; and, upon that supposition, I think we have made a tolerable good bargain with Spain; at least full as good as I expected, and almost as good as I wished, though I do not believe that we have got ALL Florida; but if we have St. Augustin, I suppose that, by the figure of ‘pars pro toto’, will be called all Florida. We have by no means made so good a bargain with France; for, in truth, what do we get by it, except Canada, with a very proper boundary of the river Mississippi! and that is all. As for the restrictions upon the French fishery in Newfoundland, they are very well ‘per la predica’, and for the Commissary whom we shall employ: for he will have a good salary from hence, to see that those restrictions are complied with; and the French will double that salary, that he may allow them all to be broken through. It is plain to me, that the French fishery will be exactly what it was before the war.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I’ve received your letter, and I believe that your initial points are pretty accurate; based on that, I think we’ve made a fairly good deal with Spain—at least as good as I expected and almost as good as I hoped, although I don’t think we got ALL of Florida. However, if we have St. Augustine, I suppose that, in a sense, will be considered all of Florida. We definitely didn’t get as good a deal with France; honestly, what do we gain from it besides Canada, with a decent boundary at the Mississippi River? And that’s about it. As for the limitations on the French fishery in Newfoundland, they’re great in theory, especially for the Commissary we’ll hire, since he’ll get a nice salary to ensure those restrictions are followed; and the French will pay him double to let them break the rules. It’s clear to me that the French fishery will end up being just like it was before the war.
The three Leeward islands, which the French yield to us, are not, all together, worth half so much as that of St. Lucia, which we give up to them. Senegal is not worth one quarter of Goree. The restrictions of the French in the East Indies are as absurd and impracticable as those of Newfoundland; and you will live to see the French trade to the East Indies, just as they did before the war. But after all I have said, the articles are as good as I expected with France, when I considered that no one single person who carried on this negotiation on our parts was ever concerned or consulted in any negotiation before. Upon the whole, then, the acquisition of Canada has cost us fourscore millions sterling. I am convinced we might have kept Guadaloupe, if our negotiators had known how to have gone about it.
The three Leeward islands that the French are giving us aren’t worth anywhere near as much as St. Lucia, which we’re handing over to them. Senegal isn’t even worth a quarter of Goree. The French restrictions in the East Indies are just as ridiculous and unworkable as those in Newfoundland; you’ll see the French trading in the East Indies just like they did before the war. But despite everything I’ve said, the items are about what I expected with France, considering that no one involved in our negotiations had any experience in negotiations before. Overall, the acquisition of Canada has cost us eighty million pounds. I’m convinced we could have kept Guadaloupe if our negotiators had known how to handle it.
His most faithful Majesty of Portugal is the best off of anybody in this, transaction, for he saves his kingdom by it, and has not laid out one moidore in defense of it. Spain, thank God, in some measure, ‘paye les pots cassis’; for, besides St. Augustin, logwood, etc., it has lost at least four millions sterling, in money, ships, etc.
His most loyal Majesty of Portugal is the best off in this situation, as he saves his kingdom without spending a single moidore on its defense. Spain, thankfully, has paid a price; besides St. Augustine, logwood, and so on, it has lost at least four million pounds in money, ships, and other resources.
Harte is here, who tells me he has been at this place these three years, excepting some few excursions to his sister; he looks ill, and laments that he has frequent fits of the yellow jaundice. He complains of his not having heard from you these four years; you should write to him. These waters have done me a great deal of good, though I drink but two-thirds of a pint in the whole day, which is less than the soberest of my countrymen drink of claret at every meal.
Harte is here, and he tells me he’s been at this place for three years, except for a few trips to visit his sister. He looks unwell and talks about having frequent bouts of jaundice. He’s also upset that he hasn’t heard from you in four years; you should reach out to him. These waters have really helped me, even though I only drink about two-thirds of a pint throughout the whole day, which is less than the most reserved of my fellow countrymen drink of wine at every meal.
I should naturally think, as you do, that this session will be a stormy one, that is, if Mr. Pitt takes an active part; but if he is pleased, as the Ministers say, there is no other AEolus to blow a storm. The Dukes of Cumberland, Newcastle, and Devonshire, have no better troops to attack with than the militia; but Pitt alone is ipse agmen. God bless you!
I naturally think, like you do, that this session will be tumultuous, especially if Mr. Pitt gets involved; but if he's satisfied, as the Ministers say, there’s no other force to stir up a storm. The Dukes of Cumberland, Newcastle, and Devonshire have no better troops to engage than the militia; but Pitt alone is the driving force. God bless you!
LETTER CCLII
BATH, November 27, 1762.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter this morning, and return you the ball ‘a la volee’. The King’s speech is a very prudent one; and as I suppose that the addresses in answer to it were, as usual, in almost the same words, my Lord Mayor might very well call them innocent. As his Majesty expatiates so much upon the great ACHIEVEMENTS of the war, I cannot help hoping that, when the preliminaries shall be laid before Parliament IN DUE TIME, which, I suppose, means after the respective ratifications of all the contracting parties, that some untalked of and unexpected advantage will break out in our treaty with France; St. Lucia, at least. I see in the newspapers an article which I by no means like, in our treaty with Spain; which is, that we shall be at liberty to cut logwood in the Bay of Campeachy, BUT BY PAYING FOR IT. Who does not see that this condition may, and probably will, amount to a prohibition, by the price which the Spaniards may set it at? It was our undoubted right, and confirmed to us by former treaties, before the war, to cut logwood gratis; but this new stipulation (if true) gives us a privilege something like a reprieve to a criminal, with a ‘non obstante’ to be hanged.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I got your letter this morning and am sending the ball back to you. The King’s speech is very wise; and since I assume that the responses to it were, as usual, almost exactly the same, my Lord Mayor could easily consider them harmless. As His Majesty talks so much about the significant ACHIEVEMENTS of the war, I can’t help but hope that when the preliminaries are presented to Parliament IN DUE TIME, which I assume means after all the parties involved have ratified, some unanticipated and unexpected benefit will emerge in our treaty with France; at least St. Lucia. I see a news article that I really dislike regarding our treaty with Spain, which states that we will be allowed to cut logwood in the Bay of Campeachy, BUT ONLY IF WE PAY FOR IT. Who doesn’t see that this condition could, and likely will, effectively become a prohibition based on the price that the Spaniards may set? It was our undeniable right, confirmed by previous treaties before the war, to cut logwood for free; but this new stipulation (if accurate) gives us a privilege similar to a reprieve for a criminal, with a 'non obstante' clause to still face execution.
I now drink so little water, that it can neither do me good nor hurt; but as I bathe but twice a-week, that operation, which does my rheumatic carcass good, will keep me here some time longer than you had allowed.
I now drink so little water that it can't help or harm me; but since I only bathe twice a week, that process, which benefits my aching body, will keep me here longer than you expected.
Harte is going to publish a new edition of his “Gustavus,” in octavo; which, he tells me, he has altered, and which, I could tell him, he should translate into English, or it will not sell better than the former; for, while the world endures, style and manner will be regarded, at least as much as matter. And so, ‘Diem vous aye dans sa sainte garde’!
Harte is going to release a new edition of his “Gustavus,” in octavo; which, he tells me, he has changed, and I could suggest to him that he should translate it into English, or it won't sell any better than the last one; because, as long as the world exists, style and presentation will be valued just as much as content. And so, ‘May God keep you in His holy care’!
LETTER CCLIII
BATH, December 13, 1762.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter this morning, with the inclosed preliminaries, which we have had here these three days; and I return them, since you intend to keep them, which is more than I believe the French will. I am very glad to find that the French are to restore all the conquests they made upon us in the East Indies during this war; and I cannot doubt but they will likewise restore to us all the cod that they shall take within less than three leagues of our coasts in North America (a distance easily measured, especially at sea), according to the spirit, though not the letter of the treaty. I am informed that the strong opposition to the peace will be in the House of Lords, though I cannot well conceive it; nor can I make out above six or seven, who will be against it upon a division, unless (which I cannot suppose) some of the Bishops should vote on the side of their maker. God bless you.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter this morning, along with the attached preliminaries, which we’ve had here for three days; and I’m returning them since you plan to keep them, which I doubt the French will. I’m very pleased to see that the French are going to return all the territories they took from us in the East Indies during this war; and I have no doubt they will also return all the cod they catch within less than three leagues of our shores in North America (that’s a distance that’s easy to measure, especially at sea), in the spirit, if not the exact wording, of the treaty. I’ve heard that the main opposition to the peace will be in the House of Lords, though I can’t quite understand it; nor can I identify more than six or seven who will oppose it in a vote, unless (which I can’t imagine) some of the Bishops would side with their maker. God bless you.
LETTER CCLIV
BATH, December 13, 1762.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter, which gave me a very clear account of the debate in your House. It is impossible for a human creature to speak well for three hours and a half; I question even if Belial, who, according to Milton, was the orator of the fallen angels, ever spoke so long at a time.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I got your letter, which gave me a clear account of the debate in your House. It's impossible for anyone to speak well for three and a half hours; I wonder if even Belial, who, according to Milton, was the speaker for the fallen angels, ever spoke that long at once.
There must have been, a trick in Charles Townshend’s speaking for the Preliminaries; for he is infinitely above having an opinion. Lord Egremont must be ill, or have thoughts of going into some other place; perhaps into Lord Granville’s, who they say is dying: when he dies, the ablest head in England dies too, take it for all in all.
There must have been a trick in Charles Townshend’s speech for the preliminaries; because he’s certainly above having an opinion. Lord Egremont must be unwell or thinking about going somewhere else; maybe to Lord Granville’s, who they say is dying. When he dies, the smartest mind in England will be gone as well, all things considered.
I shall be in town, barring accidents, this day sevennight, by dinnertime; when I have ordered a haricot, to which you will be very welcome, about four o’clock. ‘En attendant Dieu vous aye dans sa sainte garde’!
I’ll be in town, unless something unexpected happens, a week from today by dinnertime; when I’ve ordered a bean stew, and you’ll be very welcome to join me around four o’clock. ‘In the meantime, may God keep you in His holy care!’
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.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I got your letter from the 4th, sent from The Hague, in the last mail; so far, so good.
You arrived ‘sonica’ at The Hague, for our Ambassador’s entertainment; I find he has been very civil to you. You are in the right to stop for two or three days at Hanau, and make your court to the lady of that place. —[Her Royal Highness Princess Mary of England, Landgravine of Hesse.] —Your Excellency makes a figure already in the newspapers; and let them, and others, excellency you as much as they please, but pray suffer not your own servants to do it.
You arrived quickly at The Hague for our Ambassador’s event; I see he's been very polite to you. It's a good idea to stay for two or three days in Hanau and pay your respects to the lady there. —[Her Royal Highness Princess Mary of England, Landgravine of Hesse.] —Your Excellency is already making headlines in the newspapers; let them and others praise you as much as they want, but please don’t let your own servants do it.
Nothing new of any kind has happened here since you went; so I will wish you a good-night, and hope God will bless you.
Nothing new has happened here since you left, so I’ll say goodnight and hope God blesses you.
LETTER CCLVI
BLACKHEATH, July 14, 1763
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter from Ratisbon, where I am glad that you are arrived safe. You are, I find, over head and ears engaged in ceremony and etiquette. You must not yield in anything essential, where your public character may suffer; but I advise you, at the same time, to distinguish carefully what may, and what may not affect it, and to despise some German ‘minutiae’; such as one step lower or higher upon the stairs, a bow more or less, and such sort of trifles.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I got your letter from Ratisbon, and I'm glad to hear you arrived safely. It seems you're deeply caught up in ceremony and etiquette. Don't compromise on anything that could harm your public image; however, I recommend you carefully distinguish what truly matters and what doesn't. Try to let go of some of the minor German customs, like taking one step higher or lower on the stairs, a bow more or less, and other similar trivialities.
By what I see in Cressener’s letter to you, the cheapness of wine compensates the quantity, as the cheapness of servants compensates the number that you must make use of.
From what I see in Cressener’s letter to you, the low price of wine makes up for the amount, just as the low cost of servants balances out the number you have to use.
Write to your mother often, if it be but three words, to prove your existence; for, when she does not hear from you, she knows to a demonstration that you are dead, if not buried.
Write to your mom often, even if it's just three words, to show you're alive; because when she doesn't hear from you, she knows for sure that you’re dead, if not already buried.
The inclosed is a letter of the utmost consequence, which I was desired to forward, with care and speed, to the most Serene LOUIS.
The enclosed is a letter of great importance, which I was asked to forward, with care and urgency, to the most serene Louis.
My head is not well to-day. So God bless you!
My head isn't feeling well today. So God bless you!
LETTER CCLVII
BLACKHEATH, August 1, 1763.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I hope that by this time you are pretty well settled at Ratisbon, at least as to the important points of the ceremonial; so that you may know, to precision, to whom you must give, and from whom you must require the ‘seine Excellentz’. Those formalities are, no doubt, ridiculous enough in themselves; but yet they are necessary for manners, and sometimes for business; and both would suffer by laying them quite aside.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I hope by now you’re pretty well settled in Regensburg, at least regarding the key aspects of the ceremonies; so you know exactly to whom you need to give, and from whom you need to expect the ‘Your Excellency’. Those formalities are, no doubt, quite ridiculous on their own; but they are necessary for etiquette, and sometimes for business; both would suffer if we completely ignored them.
I have lately had an attack of a new complaint, which I have long suspected that I had in my body, ‘in actu primo’, as the pedants call it, but which I never felt in ‘actu secundo’ till last week, and that is a fit of the stone or gravel. It was, thank God, but a slight one; but it was ‘dans toutes les formes’; for it was preceded by a pain in my loins, which I at first took for some remains of my rheumatism; but was soon convinced of my mistake, by making water much blacker than coffee, with a prodigious sediment of gravel. I am now perfectly easy again, and have no more indications of this complaint.
I recently had an episode with a new issue that I’ve long suspected I had in my body, “in actu primo,” as the scholars say, but didn’t really experience it “in actu secundo” until last week, and that is a bout of kidney stones or gravel. Thankfully, it was just a mild case; however, it came in all sorts of forms. It started with pain in my lower back, which I initially thought was just leftover discomfort from my rheumatism; but I quickly realized my mistake when I noticed my urine looking darker than coffee, filled with a lot of gravel sediment. I’m now completely comfortable again and have no more signs of this issue.
God keep you from that and deafness! Other complaints are the common, and almost the inevitable lot of human nature, but admit of some mitigation. God bless you!
May you be spared from that and from deafness! Other issues are common and almost unavoidable in human life, but they can be eased somewhat. God bless you!
LETTER CCLVIII
BLACKHEATH, August 22, 1763
MY DEAR FRIEND: You will, by this post, hear from others that Lord Egremont died two days ago of an apoplexy; which, from his figure, and the constant plethora he lived in, was reasonably to be expected. You will ask me, who is to be Secretary in his room: To which I answer, that I do not know. I should guess Lord Sandwich, to be succeeded in the Admiralty by Charles Townshend; unless the Duke of Bedford, who seems to have taken to himself the department of Europe, should have a mind to it. This event may perhaps produce others; but, till this happened, everything was in a state of inaction, and absolutely nothing was done. Before the next session, this chaos must necessarily take some form, either by a new jumble of its own atoms, or by mixing them with the more efficient ones of the opposition.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You will hear from others that Lord Egremont passed away two days ago from a stroke; given his appearance and the constant excess he lived in, this was somewhat expected. You might wonder who will take his place as Secretary: I honestly don't know. I would guess Lord Sandwich will step in, with Charles Townshend replacing him at the Admiralty, unless the Duke of Bedford, who seems to have taken on European affairs, decides he wants it. This event may lead to more changes, but until it occurred, everything was at a standstill, and absolutely nothing was accomplished. Before the next session, this chaos will inevitably have to take shape, either by rearranging its own pieces or by mixing them with the more effective ones from the opposition.
I see by the newspapers, as well as by your letter, that the difficulties still exist about your ceremonial at Ratisbon; should they, from pride and folly, prove insuperable, and obstruct your real business, there is one expedient which may perhaps remove difficulties, and which I have often known practiced; but which I believe our people know here nothing of; it is, to have the character of MINISTER only in your ostensible title, and that of envoy extraordinary in your pocket, to produce occasionally, especially if you should be sent to any of the Electors in your neighborhood; or else, in any transactions that you may have, in which your title of envoy extraordinary may create great difficulties, to have a reversal given you, declaring that the temporary suspension of that character, ‘ne donnera pas la moindre atteinte ni a vos droits, ni a vos pretensions’. As for the rest, divert yourself as well as you can, and eat and drink as little as you can. And so God bless you!
I see from the newspapers and your letter that the difficulties regarding your ceremony in Ratisbon are still an issue. If they turn out to be insurmountable due to pride and foolishness, hindering your actual work, there's one solution that might help remove the obstacles, which I've seen used often; however, I believe our people here are unaware of it. It's to hold the title of MINISTER only in your public title, while keeping the title of envoy extraordinary handy for occasional use, especially if you need to visit any local Electors. Alternatively, for any dealings where having the envoy extraordinary title might cause significant issues, you could get a reversal stating that the temporary suspension of that title won’t affect your rights or claims in any way. As for everything else, try to enjoy yourself as much as you can and eat and drink as little as possible. God bless you!
LETTER CCLIX
BLACKHEATH, September 1, 1763
MY DEAR FRIEND: Great news! The King sent for Mr. Pitt last Saturday, and the conference lasted a full hour; on the Monday following another conference, which lasted much longer; and yesterday a third, longer than either. You take for granted, that the treaty was concluded and ratified; no such matter, for this last conference broke it entirely off; and Mr. Pitt and Lord Temple went yesterday evening to their respective country houses. Would you know what it broke off upon, you must ask the newsmongers, and the coffee-houses; who, I dare say, know it all very minutely; but I, who am not apt to know anything that I do not know, honestly and humbly confess, that I cannot tell you; probably one party asked too much, and the other would grant too little. However, the King’s dignity was not, in my mind, much consulted by their making him sole plenipotentiary of a treaty, which they were not in all events determined to conclude. It ought surely to have been begun by some inferior agent, and his Majesty should only have appeared in rejecting or ratifying it. Louis XIV. never sat down before a town in person, that was not sure to be taken.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Great news! The King called for Mr. Pitt last Saturday, and the meeting lasted a full hour; then on the following Monday there was another meeting, which lasted much longer; and yesterday there was a third, even longer than the others. You probably assume that the treaty was finalized and approved; that’s not the case, as this last meeting completely broke it off; Mr. Pitt and Lord Temple went back to their country homes yesterday evening. If you want to know what caused the breakdown, you’ll have to ask the gossipers in the coffeehouses; I’m sure they know all the details. But as for me, who tends to be unaware of what I don’t know, I honestly admit that I can’t tell you; it’s likely that one side asked for too much, and the other side offered too little. Still, in my opinion, the King’s dignity wasn’t upheld by making him the sole representative for a treaty that they weren’t fully committed to finalizing. It should have started with some lesser official, and his Majesty should have only been involved in either rejecting or approving it. Louis XIV never personally besieged a city unless he was sure of taking it.
However, ‘ce qui est differe n’est pas perdu’; for this matter must be taken up again, and concluded before the meeting of the parliament, and probably upon more disadvantageous terms to the present Ministers, who have tacitly admitted, by this negotiation, what their enemies have loudly proclaimed, that they are not able to carry on affairs. So much ‘de re politica’.
However, "what's delayed isn't lost"; this issue needs to be addressed again and resolved before the parliament meets, likely on less favorable terms for the current Ministers, who have quietly accepted, through this negotiation, what their opponents have loudly claimed: that they can't manage affairs. So much for "political matters."
I have at last done the best office that can be done to most married people; that is, I have fixed the separation between my brother and his wife; and the definitive treaty of peace will be proclaimed in about a fortnight; for the only solid and lasting peace, between a man and his wife, is, doubtless, a separation. God bless you!
I have finally done the best thing I can for most married couples; that is, I’ve arranged the separation between my brother and his wife. The final agreement will be announced in about two weeks; because the only real and lasting peace between a man and his wife is definitely a separation. God bless you!
LETTER CCLX
BLACKHEATH, September 30, 1763
MY DEAR FRIEND: You will have known, long before this, from the office, that the departments are not cast as you wished; for Lord Halifax, as senior, had of course his choice, and chose the southern, upon account of the colonies. The Ministry, such as it is, is now settled ‘en attendant mieux’; but, in, my opinion cannot, as they are, meet the parliament.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You must have already heard from the office that the departments aren't organized the way you wanted; Lord Halifax, being senior, naturally got to choose first and selected the southern department because of the colonies. The Ministry, as it stands, is now in place 'for the time being'; however, I believe it cannot, in its current state, face Parliament.
The only, and all the efficient people they have, are in the House of Lords: for since Mr. Pitt has firmly engaged Charles Townshend to him, there is not a man of the court side, in the House of Commons, who has either abilities or words enough to call a coach. Lord B——is certainly playing ‘un dessous de cartes’, and I suspect that it is with Mr. Pitt; but what that ‘dessous’ is, I do not know, though all the coffeehouses do most exactly.
The only effective people they have are in the House of Lords; since Mr. Pitt has secured Charles Townshend’s support, there isn’t anyone on the court side in the House of Commons who has the skills or the guts to even order a coach. Lord B—— is definitely playing a hidden game, and I suspect it involves Mr. Pitt; but I don’t know what that game is, although everyone in the coffeehouses seems to know all the details.
The present inaction, I believe, gives you leisure enough for ‘ennui’, but it gives you time enough too for better things; I mean reading useful books; and, what is still more useful, conversing with yourself some part of every day. Lord Shaftesbury recommends self-conversation to all authors; and I would recommend it to all men; they would be the better for it. Some people have not time, and fewer have inclination, to enter into that conversation; nay, very many dread it, and fly to the most trifling dissipations, in order to avoid it; but, if a man would allot half an hour every night for this self-conversation, and recapitulate with himself whatever he has done, right or wrong, in the course of the day, he would be both the better and the wiser for it. My deafness gives me more than a sufficient time for self-conversation; and I have found great advantages from it. My brother and Lady Stanhope are at last finally parted. I was the negotiator between them; and had so much trouble in it, that I would much rather negotiate the most difficult point of the ‘jus publicum Sacri Romani Imperii’ with the whole Diet of Ratisbon, than negotiate any point with any woman. If my brother had had some of those self-conversations, which I recommend, he would not, I believe, at past sixty, with a crazy, battered constitution, and deaf into the bargain, have married a young girl, just turned of twenty, full of health, and consequently of desires. But who takes warning by the fate of others? This, perhaps, proceeds from a negligence of selfconversation. God bless you.
The current inaction, I think, gives you plenty of time for boredom, but it also gives you time for better things; I mean reading helpful books; and, even more importantly, taking some time every day to talk to yourself. Lord Shaftesbury suggests self-conversation for all authors; and I would suggest it for all men; they would benefit from it. Some people don’t have time, and even fewer have the desire, to engage in that conversation; in fact, many fear it and turn to the most trivial distractions to avoid it; but, if a man would set aside half an hour every night for this self-conversation, and reflect on whatever he has done, right or wrong, throughout the day, he would be both better off and wiser for it. My deafness gives me more than enough time for self-conversation; and I have found it to be very beneficial. My brother and Lady Stanhope have finally separated. I was the one who negotiated between them; and it was so troublesome that I would prefer to negotiate the most difficult issues of the ‘jus publicum Sacri Romani Imperii’ with the entire Diet of Ratisbon than to negotiate any matter with any woman. If my brother had engaged in some of those self-conversations I suggest, I don’t think he would have married a young girl just turning twenty, full of health and, therefore, desires, at the age of sixty, with a frail, worn-out body, and deaf to boot. But who learns from the fate of others? This, perhaps, comes from a neglect of self-conversation. God bless you.
LETTER CCLXI
BLACKHEATH, October 17, 1763
MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter of the 2d instant, as the former had brought me that of the 25th past. I did suppose that you would be sent over, for the first day of the session; as I never knew a stricter muster, and no furloughs allowed. I am very sorry for it, for the reasons you hint at; but, however, you did very prudently, in doing, ‘de bonne grace’, what you could not help doing; and let that be your rule in every thing for the rest of your life. Avoid disagreeable things as much as by dexterity you can; but when they are unavoidable, do them with seeming willingness and alacrity. Though this journey is ill-timed for you in many respects, yet, in point of FINANCES, you will be a gainer by it upon the whole; for, depend upon it, they will keep you here till the very last day of the session: and I suppose you have sold your horses, and dismissed some of your servants. Though they seem to apprehend the first day of the session so much, in my opinion their danger will be much greater in the course of it.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter from the 2nd, just as the previous one brought me your letter from the 25th. I thought you would be sent over for the first day of the session, as I’ve never seen such a strict muster, with no furloughs allowed. I’m really sorry about this, for the reasons you mentioned; but you acted wisely, gracefully accepting what you couldn’t avoid, and I suggest you make that your approach in everything moving forward. Avoid unpleasant situations as much as you can, but when you can’t, handle them with apparent willingness and enthusiasm. Although this trip isn’t well-timed for you in many ways, financially it will benefit you overall; because believe me, they will keep you here until the very last day of the session. I assume you’ve sold your horses and let go of some of your servants. While they seem really worried about the first day of the session, I believe their real danger will come later on.
When you are at Paris, you will of course wait upon Lord Hertford, and desire him to present you to the King; at the same time make my compliments to him, and thank him for the very obliging message he left at my house in town; and tell him, that, had I received it in time from thence, I would have come to town on purpose to have returned it in person. If there are any new little books at Paris, pray bring them me. I have already Voltaire’s ‘Zelis dans le Bain’, his ‘Droit du Seigneur’, and ‘Olympie’. Do not forget to call once at Madame Monconseil’s, and as often as you please at Madame du Pin’s. Au revoir.
When you're in Paris, please make sure to visit Lord Hertford and ask him to introduce you to the King. Also, send him my regards and thank him for the kind message he left at my place in town. Let him know that if I had received it in time, I would have come to town specifically to thank him in person. If there are any new little books in Paris, please bring them back for me. I already have Voltaire’s ‘Zelis dans le Bain’, his ‘Droit du Seigneur’, and ‘Olympie’. Don't forget to stop by Madame Monconseil’s once, and feel free to visit Madame du Pin as often as you'd like. See you later.
LETTER CCLXII
BATH, November 24, 1763
MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here, as you suppose in your letter, last Sunday; but after the worst day’s journey I ever had in my life: it snowed and froze that whole morning, and in the evening it rained and thawed, which made the roads so slippery, that I was six hours coming post from the Devizes, which is but eighteen miles from hence; so that, but for the name of coming post, I might as well have walked on foot. I have not yet quite got over my last violent attack, and am weak and flimsy.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here, just like you guessed in your letter, last Sunday; but it was the worst travel day I've ever experienced: it snowed and froze all morning, and then in the evening it rained and thawed, making the roads so slippery that it took me six hours to get here by post from Devizes, which is only eighteen miles away. If it weren't for the fact that I was traveling by post, I might as well have walked. I'm still recuperating from my last severe episode and feel weak and fragile.
I have now drank the waters but three days; so that, without a miracle, I cannot yet expect much alteration, and I do not in the least expect a miracle. If they proved ‘les eaux de Jouvence’ to me, that would be a miracle indeed; but, as the late Pope Lambertini said, ‘Fra noi, gli miracoli sono passati girt un pezzo’.
I have now been drinking the waters for just three days; so, without a miracle, I can't expect much change yet, and I'm not really expecting a miracle at all. If they turned out to be 'the waters of youth' for me, that would be a real miracle; but, as the late Pope Lambertini said, 'Among us, miracles have been gone for a while.'
I have seen Harte, who inquired much after you: he is dejected and dispirited, and thinks himself much worse than he is, though he has really a tendency to the jaundice. I have yet seen nobody else, nor do I know who here is to be seen; for I have not yet exhibited myself to public view, except at the pump, which, at the time I go to it, is the most private place in Bath.
I’ve seen Harte, who asked a lot about you: he’s down and discouraged, thinking he’s worse off than he really is, even though he does have a bit of a jaundice issue. I haven’t seen anyone else here, nor do I know who else is around; I haven’t shown myself publicly yet, except at the pump, which is the most private spot in Bath when I go there.
After all the fears and hopes, occasioned severally by the meeting of the parliament, in my opinion, it will prove a very easy session. Mr. Wilkes is universally given up; and if the ministers themselves do not wantonly raise difficulties, I think they will meet with none. A majority of two hundred is a great anodyne. Adieu! God bless you!
After all the fears and hopes caused by the meeting of parliament, I believe it will turn out to be a very easy session. Mr. Wilkes is widely dismissed; and if the ministers don’t deliberately create problems, I think they won’t face any. A majority of two hundred is a strong comfort. Goodbye! God bless you!
LETTER CCLXIII
BATH, December 3, 1763.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Last post brought me your letter of the 29th past. I suppose C——-T——-let off his speech upon the Princess’s portion, chiefly to show that he was of the opposition; for otherwise, the point was not debatable, unless as to the quantum, against which something might be said; for the late Princess of Orange (who was the eldest daughter of a king) had no more, and her two sisters but half, if I am not mistaken.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter from the 29th of last month. I assume C——-T——- made his speech about the Princess’s dowry mainly to show that he was part of the opposition; otherwise, the issue wasn’t really up for debate, except regarding the amount, which could be contested. After all, the late Princess of Orange (who was the eldest daughter of a king) had no more, and her two sisters had only half, if I'm not mistaken.
It is a great mercy that Mr. Wilkes, the intrepid defender of our rights and liberties, is out of danger, and may live to fight and write again in support of them; and it is no less a mercy, that God hath raised up the Earl of S———to vindicate and promote true religion and morality. These two blessings will justly make an epoch in the annals of this country.
It's a tremendous relief that Mr. Wilkes, the brave defender of our rights and freedoms, is safe and may continue to fight and write in their defense; and it's equally fortunate that God has placed the Earl of S———to uphold and advocate for true religion and morality. These two gifts will rightly mark a significant moment in the history of this country.
I have delivered your message to Harte, who waits with impatience for your letter. He is very happy now in having free access to all Lord Craven’s papers, which, he says, give him great lights into the ‘bellum tricenale’; the old Lord Craven having been the professed and valorous knight-errant, and perhaps something more, to the Queen of Bohemia; at least, like Sir Peter Pride, he had the honor of spending great part of his estate in her royal cause:
I delivered your message to Harte, who is eagerly waiting for your letter. He’s really happy now to have free access to all of Lord Craven’s papers, which he says provide him with great insights into the ‘bellum tricenale.’ The late Lord Craven was a devoted and brave knight-errant, and maybe even more, to the Queen of Bohemia; at least, like Sir Peter Pride, he had the honor of spending a significant part of his estate on her royal cause.
I am by no means right yet; I am very weak and flimsy still; but the doctor assures me that strength and spirits will return; if they do, ‘lucro apponam’, I will make the best of them; if they do not, I will not make their want still worse by grieving and regretting them. I have lived long enough, and observed enough, to estimate most things at their intrinsic, and not their imaginary value; and, at seventy, I find nothing much worth either desiring or fearing. But these reflections, which suit with seventy, would be greatly premature at two-and-thirty. So make the best of your time; enjoy the present hour, but ‘memor ultimae’. God bless you!
I'm not completely okay yet; I'm still really weak and fragile; but the doctor assures me that my strength and spirit will come back. If they do, I'll make the most of them; if they don’t, I won't make things worse by dwelling on what I'm missing. I've lived long enough and seen enough to understand the true value of things, not just the imagined value; and at seventy, I don’t find much worth either wanting or fearing. But these thoughts, which fit with being seventy, would be way too early at thirty-two. So make the most of your time; enjoy the present moment, but remember the end. God bless you!
LETTER CCLXIV
BATH, December 18, 1763
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter this morning, in which you reproach me with not having written to you this week. The reason was, that I did not know what to write. There is that sameness in my life here, that EVERY DAY IS STILL BUT AS THE FIRST. I see very few people; and, in the literal sense of the word, I hear nothing.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I got your letter this morning, where you criticize me for not writing to you this week. The reason is that I didn’t know what to say. There’s such a routine to my life here that EVERY DAY FEELS JUST LIKE THE FIRST. I see very few people, and, in the most literal sense, I hear nothing.
Mr. L———and Mr. C——-I hold to be two very ingenious men; and your image of the two men ruined, one by losing his law-suit, and the other by carrying it, is a very just one. To be sure, they felt in themselves uncommon talents for business and speaking, which were to reimburse them.
Mr. L———and Mr. C——-I consider to be two very clever men; and your depiction of the two men brought down—one by losing his lawsuit and the other by pursuing it—is quite accurate. They certainly believed they had exceptional skills in business and public speaking that would pay off for them.
Harte has a great poetical work to publish, before it be long; he has shown me some parts of it. He had entitled it “Emblems,” but I persuaded him to alter that name for two reasons; the first was, because they were not emblems, but fables; the second was, that if they had been emblems, Quarles had degraded and vilified that name to such a degree, that it is impossible to make use of it after him; so they are to be called fables, though moral tales would, in my mind, be the properest name. If you ask me what I think of those I have seen, I must say, that ‘sunt plura bona, quaedam mediocria, et quaedam——’
Harte has a great poetry collection to publish soon; he has shown me some parts of it. He originally titled it “Emblems,” but I convinced him to change the name for two reasons: first, because they aren't emblems but rather fables; second, because Quarles has tarnished that name to such an extent that it’s impossible to use it after him. So, they will be called fables, although I think "moral tales" would be the most appropriate name. If you ask me what I think of the ones I’ve seen, I have to say, “there are many good ones, some mediocre, and some—”
Your report of future changes, I cannot think is wholly groundless; for it still runs strongly in my head, that the mine we talked of will be sprung, at or before the end of the session.
Your report about future changes doesn’t seem completely unfounded to me; I still have a strong feeling that the mine we discussed will go off, at or before the end of the session.
I have got a little more strength, but not quite the strength of Hercules; so that I will not undertake, like him, fifty deflorations in one night; for I really believe that I could not compass them. So good-night, and God bless you!
I have a bit more strength now, but not quite Herculean strength; so I won't attempt, like him, to handle fifty encounters in one night; because I honestly believe I couldn't manage them. So goodnight, and God bless you!
LETTER CCLXV
BATH, December 24, 1763.
DEAR FRIEND: I confess I was a good deal surprised at your pressing me so strongly to influence Parson Rosenhagen, when you well know the resolution I had made several years ago, and which I have scrupulously observed ever since, not to concern myself, directly or indirectly, in any party political contest whatsoever. Let parties go to loggerheads as much and as long as they please; I will neither endeavor to part them, nor take the part of either; for I know them all too well. But you say, that Lord Sandwich has been remarkably civil, and kind to you. I am very glad of it, and he can by no means impute to you my obstinacy, folly, or philosophy, call it what you please: you may with great truth assure him, that you did all you could to obey his commands.
DEAR FRIEND: I have to admit, I was quite surprised by your strong insistence that I sway Parson Rosenhagen, especially since you know I made a firm resolution years ago and have stuck to it ever since—not to get involved, directly or indirectly, in any political party disputes. Let the parties clash as much as they want; I won't try to mediate or take sides because I know them all too well. But you mention that Lord Sandwich has been very polite and kind to you. I'm really glad to hear that, and he certainly can't blame you for my stubbornness, foolishness, or whatever you want to call it: you can assure him truthfully that you did everything possible to follow his wishes.
I am sorry to find that you are out of order, but I hope it is only a cold; should it be anything more, pray consult Dr. Maty, who did you so much good in your last illness, when the great medicinal Mattadores did you rather harm. I have found a Monsieur Diafoirus here, Dr. Moisy, who has really done me a great deal of good; and I am sure I wanted it a great deal when I came here first. I have recovered some strength, and a little more will give me as much as I can make use of.
I’m sorry to hear that you’re not feeling well, but I hope it’s just a cold. If it’s something more serious, please see Dr. Maty, who helped you a lot during your last illness, unlike the other so-called great doctors who didn’t do you any good. I’ve found a Dr. Moisy here, and he has really helped me a lot; I definitely needed it when I first arrived. I’ve regained some strength, and a little more will be enough for me to get by.
Lady Brown, whom I saw yesterday, makes you many compliments; and I wish you a merry Christmas, and a good-night. Adieu!
Lady Brown, whom I saw yesterday, sends you many compliments; and I wish you a merry Christmas and a good night. Goodbye!
LETTER CCLXVI
BATH, December 31, 1763
MY DEAR FRIEND: Gravenkop wrote me word, by the last post, that you were laid up with the gout: but I much question it, that is, whether it is the gout or not. Your last illness, before you went abroad, was pronounced the gout, by the skillful, and proved at last a mere rheumatism. Take care that the same mistake is not made this year; and that by giving you strong and hot medicines to throw out the gout, they do not inflame the rheumatism, if it be one.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Gravenkop wrote to me in the last post that you were stuck with the gout, but I really doubt it. I mean, I’m not sure if it’s actually the gout. Your last illness before you went abroad was diagnosed as gout by the experts, but it turned out to just be plain rheumatism. Make sure they don’t make the same mistake this year; by giving you strong and hot medicines to get rid of the gout, they might actually make the rheumatism worse, if that’s what it is.
Mr. Wilkes has imitated some of the great men of antiquity, by going into voluntary exile: it was his only way of defeating both his creditors and his prosecutors. Whatever his friends, if he has any, give out of his returning soon, I will answer for it, that it will be a long time before that soon comes.
Mr. Wilkes has followed in the footsteps of some of the great figures from the past by willingly going into exile. This was his only way to escape both his creditors and his accusers. Whatever his friends, if he has any, claim about him coming back soon, I can guarantee that it will be a long time before that "soon" actually happens.
I have been much out of order these four days of a violent cold which I do not know how I got, and which obliged me to suspend drinking the waters: but it is now so much better, that I propose resuming them for this week, and paying my court to you in town on Monday or Tuesday seven-night: but this is ‘sub spe rati’ only. God bless you!
I've been feeling really unwell for the past four days with a bad cold that I can't figure out how I caught, which forced me to stop taking the waters. But I'm feeling much better now, so I plan to start them again this week and visit you in town on Monday or Tuesday next week. But that's just a plan for now. Take care!
LETTER CCLXVII
BLACKHEATH, July 20, 1764.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 3d from Prague, but I never received that which you mention from Ratisbon; this made me think you in such rapid motion, that I did not know where to take aim. I now suppose that you are arrived, though not yet settled, at Dresden; your audiences and formalities are, to be sure, over, and that is great ease of mind to you.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I’ve just received your letter dated the 3rd from Prague, but I never got the one you mentioned from Ratisbon; this made me think you were moving so quickly that I didn’t know where to focus. I now assume you have arrived, even though you’re not yet settled, in Dresden; your meetings and formalities must be over, which is certainly a relief for you.
I have no political events to acquaint you with; the summer is not the season for them, they ripen only in winter; great ones are expected immediately before the meeting of parliament, but that, you know, is always the language of fears and hopes. However, I rather believe that there will be something patched up between the INS and the OUTS.
I don't have any political news to share with you; summer isn't really the time for that, those things usually develop in the winter. Major events are anticipated just before parliament meets, but you know how it is—people always talk about their fears and hopes. Still, I think there will be some sort of agreement between the people in power and those who are not.
The whole subject of conversation, at present, is the death and will of Lord Bath: he has left above twelve hundred thousand pounds in land and money; four hundred thousand pounds in cash, stocks, and mortgages; his own estate, in land, was improved to fifteen thousand pounds a-year, and the Bradford estate, which he——-is as much; both which, at only five-and twenty years’ purchase, amount to eight hundred thousand pounds; and all this he has left to his brother, General Pulteney, and in his own disposal, though he never loved him. The legacies he has left are trifling; for, in truth, he cared for nobody: the words GIVE and BEQUEATH were too shocking for him to repeat, and so he left all in one word to his brother. The public, which was long the dupe of his simulation and dissimulation, begins to explain upon him; and draws such a picture of him as I gave you long ago.
The main topic of conversation right now is the death and will of Lord Bath. He has left over one million two hundred thousand pounds in land and money; four hundred thousand pounds in cash, stocks, and mortgages; his own estate is valued at fifteen thousand pounds a year, and the Bradford estate, which he —— is worth the same; both of these, at just twenty-five years' worth of purchase, come to eight hundred thousand pounds. All of this is given to his brother, General Pulteney, and he can manage it himself, even though he never liked him. The legacies he left are minimal; honestly, he didn't care about anyone. The words GIVE and BEQUEATH were too disturbing for him to say, so he left everything with just one word to his brother. The public, which has long been fooled by his pretense and deceit, is starting to see through him and is painting a picture of him similar to the one I shared with you a while ago.
Your late secretary has been with me three or four times; he wants something or another, and it seems all one to him what, whether civil or military; in plain English, he wants bread. He has knocked at the doors of some of the ministers, but to no purpose. I wish with all my heart that I could help him: I told him fairly that I could not, but advised him to find some channel to Lord B——-, which, though a Scotchman, he told me he could not. He brought a packet of letters from the office to you, which I made him seal up; and keep it for you, as I suppose it makes up the series of your Ratisbon letters.
Your late secretary has come to me three or four times; he wants something or another, and it seems like it doesn't matter to him whether it's something civil or military; in plain terms, he wants to eat. He has knocked on the doors of some ministers, but with no luck. I truly wish I could help him: I told him directly that I couldn't, but I suggested he find a way to connect with Lord B——-, which, although he's a Scot, he said he couldn't do. He brought a packet of letters from the office for you, which I made him seal up and hold onto, as I assume it completes your series of Ratisbon letters.
As for me, I am just what I was when you left me, that is, nobody. Old age steals upon me insensibly. I grow weak and decrepit, but do not suffer, and so I am content.
As for me, I’m just the same as I was when you left, which is to say, nobody. Aging creeps up on me without me noticing. I’m getting weak and frail, but I don’t feel any pain, and that makes me okay with things.
Forbes brought me four books of yours, two of which were Bielefeldt’s “Letters,” in which, to my knowledge, there are many notorious lies.
Forbes brought me four of your books, two of which were Bielefeldt’s “Letters,” in which, as far as I know, there are many well-known lies.
Make my compliments to Comte Einsiedel, whom I love and honor much; and so good-night to ‘seine Excellentz’.
Make sure to give my regards to Comte Einsiedel, whom I love and respect very much; and so goodnight to 'his Excellency'.
Now our correspondence may be more regular, and I expect a letter from you every fortnight. I will be regular on my part: but write oftener to your mother, if it be but three lines.
Now our communication can be more consistent, and I expect a letter from you every two weeks. I will be regular on my end: but write to your mother more often, even if it's just three lines.
LETTER CCLXVIII
BLACKHEATH, July 27,1764
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, two days ago, your letter of the 11th from Dresden, where I am very glad that, you are safely arrived at last. The prices of the necessaries of life are monstrous there; and I do not conceive how the poor natives subsist at all, after having been so long and so often plundered by their own as well as by other sovereigns.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from Dresden, dated the 11th, two days ago, and I’m really glad to hear that you arrived safely. The cost of basic necessities there is outrageous, and I can’t understand how the locals manage to survive after being robbed so many times by both their own leaders and others.
As for procuring you either the title or the appointments of Plenipotentiary, I could as soon procure them from the Turkish as from the English Ministry; and, in truth, I believe they have it not to give.
As for getting you either the title or the appointments of Plenipotentiary, I could get them just as easily from the Turkish government as from the English Ministry; and honestly, I don't think they have it to offer.
Now to come to your civil list, if one may compare small things with great: I think I have found out a better refreshment for it than you propose; for to-morrow I shall send to your cashier, Mr. Larpent, five hundred pounds at once, for your use, which, I presume, is better than by quarterly payments; and I am very apt to think that next midsummer day, he will have the same sum, and for the same use, consigned to him.
Now, regarding your budget, if we can compare small things to big ones: I believe I've found a better solution than what you suggested. Tomorrow, I'll send your cashier, Mr. Larpent, five hundred pounds all at once for your use, which I assume is better than making quarterly payments. I also think that by next midsummer day, he will receive the same amount for the same purpose.
It is reported here, and I believe not without some foundation, that the queen of Hungary has acceded to the Family Compact between France and Spain: if so, I am sure it behooves us to form in time a counter alliance, of at least equal strength; which I could easily point out, but which, I fear, is not thought of here.
It's been reported, and I believe there's some truth to it, that the queen of Hungary has joined the Family Compact between France and Spain. If that's the case, then I think we need to form a counter alliance that's at least as strong. I could easily suggest how to do that, but I'm afraid no one is considering it here.
The rage of marrying is very prevalent; so that there will be probably a great crop of cuckolds next winter, who are at present only ‘cocus en herbs’. It will contribute to population, and so far must be allowed to be a public benefit. Lord G———, Mr. B———-, and Mr. D———-, are, in this respect, very meritorious; for they have all married handsome women, without one shilling fortune. Lord must indeed take some pains to arrive at that dignity: but I dare say he will bring it about, by the help of some young Scotch or Irish officer. Good-night, and God bless you!
The trend of getting married is really strong; so there will probably be a lot of guys getting cheated on next winter, who are currently just 'cuckolds in waiting.' It will help boost the population, which can be seen as a good thing for society. Lord G———, Mr. B———-, and Mr. D———- are doing well in this regard; they’ve all married attractive women without a penny to their names. Lord really has to work hard to earn that status, but I'm sure he'll figure it out with the help of some young Scottish or Irish officer. Good-night, and God bless you!
LETTER CCLXIX
BLACKHEATH, September 3, 1764.
DEAR FRIEND: I have received your letter of the 13th past. I see that your complete arrangement approaches, and you need not be in a hurry to give entertainments, since so few others do.
DEAR FRIEND: I got your letter from the 13th. I see that your plans are coming together, and you don’t need to rush into hosting events since not many others are doing so.
Comte Flemming is the man in the world the best calculated to retrieve the Saxon finances, which have been all this century squandered and lavished with the most absurd profusion: he has certainly abilities, and I believe integrity; I dare answer for him, that the gentleness and flexibility of his temper will not prevail with him to yield to the importunities of craving and petulant applications. I see in him another Sully; and therefore I wish he were at the head of our finances.
Comte Flemming is the best person in the world to restore the Saxon finances, which have been wasted and spent extravagantly this whole century. He definitely has the skills, and I believe he is honest; I can vouch for him that his kindness and adaptability won't make him give in to the demands of needy and impatient requests. I see in him another Sully; that's why I wish he were in charge of our finances.
France and Spain both insult us, and we take it too tamely; for this is, in my opinion, the time for us to talk high to them. France, I am persuaded, will not quarrel with us till it has got a navy at least equal to ours, which cannot be these three or four years at soonest; and then, indeed, I believe we shall hear of something or other; therefore, this is the moment for us to speak loud; and we shall be feared, if we do not show that we fear.
France and Spain both insult us, and we accept it too easily; in my view, this is the time for us to stand up to them. I'm convinced that France won't pick a fight with us until it has a navy at least as strong as ours, which won’t be for another three or four years at the earliest; and then, I believe we’ll definitely hear something from them. So, this is the moment for us to speak out; we will be respected if we don’t show that we’re afraid.
Here is no domestic news of changes and chances in the political world; which, like oysters, are only in season in the R months, when the parliament sits. I think there will be some then, but of what kind, God knows.
There’s no local news about changes and opportunities in politics; they’re like oysters, only available during the R months when parliament is in session. I believe there will be some changes then, but only God knows what kind.
I have received a book for you, and one for myself, from Harte. It is upon agriculture, and will surprise you, as I confess it did me. This work is not only in English, but good and elegant English; he has even scattered graces upon his subject; and in prose, has come very near Virgil’s “Georgics” in verse. I have written to him, to congratulate his happy transformation. As soon as I can find an opportunity, I will send you your copy. You (though no Agricola) will read it with pleasure.
I got a book for you and one for myself from Harte. It's about agriculture, and you'll be surprised by it, just like I was. This book isn't just in English; it's well-written and stylish. He’s even added some charm to the topic, and in prose, it almost matches Virgil's "Georgics" in verse. I’ve written to him to congratulate him on his amazing work. As soon as I get a chance, I’ll send you your copy. You (even though you’re not a farmer) will enjoy reading it.
I know Mackenzie, whom you mention. ‘C’est une delie; sed cave’.
I know Mackenzie, the one you’re talking about. ‘She’s a delicate one; but be careful’.
Make mine and Lady Chesterfield’s compliments to Comte et Comtesse Flemming; and so, ‘Dieu vous aye en sa sainte garde’!
Make mine and Lady Chesterfield’s compliments to Count and Countess Flemming; and so, ‘May God keep you in His holy care!’
LETTER CCLXX
BLACKHEATH, September 14, 1764
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter of the 30th past, by which I find that you had not then got mine, which I sent you the day after I had received your former; you have had no great loss of it; for, as I told you in my last, this inactive season of the year supplies no materials for a letter; the winter may, and probably will, produce an abundant crop, but of what grain I neither know, guess, nor care. I take it for granted, that Lord B———‘surnagera encore’, but by the assistance of what bladders or cork-waistcoats God only knows. The death of poor Mr. Legge, the epileptic fits of the Duke of Devonshire, for which he is gone to Aix-la-Chapelle, and the advanced age of the Duke of Newcastle, seem to facilitate an accommodation, if Mr. Pitt and Lord Bute are inclined to it.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I got your letter from the 30th, which tells me that you hadn’t received mine yet. I sent it the day after I got your last one; you haven't missed much, though, because, as I mentioned before, this quiet time of year doesn’t give me much to write about. Winter might bring plenty of news, but I have no idea what it’ll be, and honestly, I don't care. I assume Lord B——— is still around, but I have no clue how he’s managing that. The passing of poor Mr. Legge, the Duke of Devonshire’s epileptic episodes that have taken him to Aix-la-Chapelle, and the old age of the Duke of Newcastle seem to make a compromise easier, if Mr. Pitt and Lord Bute are open to it.
You ask me what I think of the death of poor Iwan, and of the person who ordered it. You may remember that I often said, she would murder or marry him, or probably both; she has chosen the safest alternative; and has now completed her character of femme forte, above scruples and hesitation. If Machiavel were alive, she would probably be his heroine, as Caesar Borgia was his hero. Women are all so far Machiavelians, that they are never either good or bad by halves; their passions are too strong, and their reason too weak, to do anything with moderation. She will, perhaps, meet, before it is long, with some Scythian as free from prejudices as herself. If there is one Oliver Cromwell in the three regiments of guards, he will probably, for the sake of his dear country, depose and murder her; for that is one and the same thing in Russia.
You ask me what I think about the death of poor Iwan and the person who ordered it. You might remember that I've often said she'd either murder him or marry him, or probably do both; she has opted for the safest choice and has now fully embraced her role as a strong woman, without any scruples or hesitation. If Machiavelli were alive, she would likely be his heroine, just as Caesar Borgia was his hero. Women are all, to some extent, Machiavellian; they are never just good or bad halfway; their passions are too intense, and their reasoning too weak, to act with moderation. She may soon encounter some Scythian who is as free of prejudices as she is. If there’s even one Oliver Cromwell in the three regiments of guards, he will probably, for the sake of his beloved country, depose and kill her; for that is seen as the same thing in Russia.
You seem now to have settled, and ‘bien nippe’ at Dresden. Four sedentary footmen, and one running one, ‘font equipage leste’. The German ones will give you, ‘seine Excellentz’; and the French ones, if you have any, Monseigneur.
You seem to have settled down nicely in Dresden, all dressed up. You have four stationary footmen and one runner, which makes for a light setup. The German ones will address you as "Your Excellency," and the French ones, if you have any, will call you "Monseigneur."
My own health varies, as usual, but never deviates into good. God bless you, and send you better!
My health fluctuates, as always, but it never gets better. God bless you and wish you well!
LETTER CCLXXI
BLACKHEATH, October 4, 1764.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now your last letter, of the 16th past, lying before me, and I gave your inclosed to Grevenkop, which has put him into a violent bustle to execute your commissions, as well and as cheap as possible. I refer him to his own letter. He tells you true as to Comtesse Cosel’s diamonds, which certainly nobody will buy here, unsight unseen, as they call it; so many minutiae concurring to increase or lessen the value of a diamond. Your Cheshire cheese, your Burton ale and beer, I charge myself with, and they shall be sent you as soon as possible. Upon this occasion I will give you a piece of advice, which by experience I know to be useful. In all commissions, whether from men or women, ‘point de galanterie’, bring them in your account, and be paid to the uttermost farthing; but if you would show them ‘une galanterie’, let your present be of something that is not in your commission, otherwise you will be the ‘Commissionaire banal’ of all the women of Saxony. ‘A propos’, Who is your Comtesse de Cosel? Is she daughter, or grand-daughter, of the famous Madame de Cosel, in King Augustus’s time? Is she young or old, ugly or handsome?
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have your last letter from the 16th in front of me, and I gave your enclosed note to Grevenkop, which has gotten him into a frantic rush to carry out your requests as well and as cheaply as possible. I refer him to his own letter. He’s right about Comtesse Cosel’s diamonds; nobody here will buy them sight unseen, as they say, since there are so many details that affect the value of a diamond. I’m taking care of your Cheshire cheese and your Burton ale and beer, and they will be sent to you as soon as possible. On this occasion, I want to give you a piece of advice that I've learned is useful through experience. In all transactions, whether with men or women, avoid gallantry; make sure to include everything in your account and get paid down to the last penny. But if you want to show them a gesture of kindness, let your gift be something that's not included in your request, or else you’ll become the ordinary supplier for all the women of Saxony. By the way, who is your Comtesse de Cosel? Is she the daughter or granddaughter of the famous Madame de Cosel from King Augustus’s time? Is she young or old, ugly or beautiful?
I do not wonder that people are wonderfully surprised at our tameness and forbearance, with regard to France and Spain. Spain, indeed, has lately agreed to our cutting log wood, according to the treaty, and sent strict orders to their governor to allow it; but you will observe too, that there is not one word of reparation for the losses we lately sustained there. But France is not even so tractable; it will pay but half the money due, upon a liquidated account, for the maintenance of their prisoners. Our request, to have the Comte d’Estaing recalled and censured, they have absolutely rejected, though, by the laws of war, he might be hanged for having twice broke his parole. This does not do France honor: however, I think we shall be quiet, and that at the only time, perhaps this century, when we might, with safety, be otherwise: but this is nothing new, nor the first time, by many, when national honor and interest have been sacrificed to private. It has always been so: and one may say, upon this occasion, what Horace says upon another, ‘Nam fuit ante Helenam’.
I'm not surprised that people are amazed by our restraint and patience regarding France and Spain. Spain has recently agreed to let us cut log wood as per the treaty and has sent strict orders to their governor to allow it; however, you'll notice that there’s no mention of compensation for the losses we recently suffered there. France is even less cooperative; it will only pay half of the money owed for the care of their prisoners. Our request to have the Comte d’Estaing recalled and punished has been completely ignored, even though, under the laws of war, he could be executed for having broken his parole twice. This doesn’t reflect well on France. Nonetheless, I believe we will remain calm, perhaps at the only time this century when we could safely act otherwise; but this is nothing new, nor the first time many have seen national honor and interests sacrificed for personal gain. It's always been this way, and one could say, in this situation, what Horace implies in another context, ‘Nam fuit ante Helenam’.
I have seen ‘les Contes de Guillaume Vade’, and like most of them so little, that I can hardly think them Voltaire’s, but rather the scraps that have fallen from his table, and been worked up by inferior workmen, under his name. I have not seen the other book you mention, the ‘Dictionnaire Portatif’. It is not yet come over.
I have seen 'les Contes de Guillaume Vade' and like most of them so little that I can hardly believe they’re by Voltaire; they seem more like the leftovers from his table, put together by lesser writers using his name. I haven't seen the other book you mentioned, the 'Dictionnaire Portatif.' It hasn't come out yet.
I shall next week go to take my winter quarters in London, the weather here being very cold and damp, and not proper for an old, shattered, and cold carcass, like mine. In November I will go to the Bath, to careen myself for the winter, and to shift the scene. Good-night.
I’ll be heading to London next week for the winter since the weather here is really cold and damp, which isn’t good for an old, worn-out body like mine. In November, I’ll go to Bath to take care of myself for the winter and change things up a bit. Good night.
LETTER CCLXXII
LONDON, October 19, 1764.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday morning Mr.——-came to me, from Lord Halifax, to ask me whether I thought you would approve of vacating your seat in parliament, during the remainder of it, upon a valuable consideration, meaning MONEY. My answer was, that I really did not know your disposition upon that subject: but that I knew you would be very willing, in general, to accommodate them, so far as lay in your power: that your election, to my knowledge, had cost you two thousand pounds; that this parliament had not sat above half its time; and that, for my part, I approved of the measure well enough, provided you had an equitable equivalent. I take it for granted that you will have a letter from———, by this post, to that effect, so that you must consider what you will do. What I advise is this: Give them a good deal of ‘Galbanum’ in the first part of your letter. ‘Le Galbanum ne coute rien’; and then say that you are willing to do as they please; but that you hope an equitable consideration will be had to the two thousand pounds, which your seat cost you in the present parliament, of which not above half the term is expired. Moreover, that you take the liberty to remind them, that your being sent from Ratisbon, last session, when you were just settled there, put you to the expense of three or four hundred pounds, for which you were allowed nothing; and that, therefore, you hope they will not think one thousand pounds too much, considering all these circumstances: but that, in all events, you will do whatever they desire. Upon the whole, I think this proposal advantageous to you, as you probably will not make use of your seat this parliament; and, further, as it will secure you from another unpaid journey from Dresden, in case they meet, or fear to meet, with difficulties in any ensuing session of the present parliament. Whatever one must do, one should do ‘de bonne grace’. ‘Dixi’. God bless you!
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday morning, Mr.——- came to me from Lord Halifax to ask if I thought you would agree to give up your seat in parliament for the rest of the term, in exchange for a substantial payment, meaning MONEY. I replied that I really didn’t know how you felt about that, but I knew you would generally be willing to help them as much as you could. Your election, to my knowledge, cost you two thousand pounds; this parliament hasn’t even met for half its term; and for my part, I think the idea is fine as long as you get something fair in return. I assume you’ll receive a letter from——— in this post related to that, so you’ll need to think about what you want to do. Here’s my advice: Start your letter with a lot of ‘Galbanum.’ ‘Le Galbanum ne coûte rien’; then say that you’re willing to go along with whatever they decide, but you hope they’ll take into account the two thousand pounds your seat cost in this parliament, of which less than half the time is left. Also, I’d like to remind them that being sent away from Ratisbon last session, just as you were settling in, cost you three or four hundred pounds with no compensation; so you hope they won’t think one thousand pounds is too much, given all these factors. But, in any case, you’ll do whatever they ask. Overall, I think this proposal is beneficial for you since you likely won’t need your seat this parliament; plus, it will protect you from another unpaid trip from Dresden if they encounter any problems in the current session. Whatever needs to be done should be done ‘de bonne grâce’. ‘Dixi’. God bless you!
LETTER CCLXXIII
BATH, November 10, 1764.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I am much concerned at the account you gave me of yourself, in your last letter. There is, to be sure, at such a town as Dresden, at least some one very skillful physician, whom I hope you have consulted; and I would have you acquaint him with all your several attacks of this nature, from your great one at Laubach, to your late one at Dresden: tell him, too, that in your last illness in England, the physicians mistook your case, and treated it as the gout, till Maty came, who treated it as a rheumatism, and cured you. In my own opinion, you have never had the gout, but always the rheumatism; which, to my knowledge, is as painful as the gout can possibly be, and should be treated in a quite different way; that is, by cooling medicines and regimen, instead of those inflammatory cordials which they always administer where they suppose the gout, to keep it, as they say, out of the stomach.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I’m really worried about what you shared with me in your last letter. In a place like Dresden, there must be at least one very skilled doctor, whom I hope you’ve seen; please make sure to tell him about all your various episodes, from the major one at Laubach to your recent experience in Dresden. Also, mention that in your last illness in England, the doctors misdiagnosed your condition and treated it as gout until Maty arrived, who recognized it as rheumatism and successfully treated you. Honestly, I believe you’ve never actually had gout, but rather rheumatism, which, as far as I know, can be just as painful as gout and should be treated quite differently—with cooling medicines and lifestyle changes, rather than the inflammatory cordials that they typically give when they think it’s gout to keep it out of the stomach.
I have been here now just a week; but have hitherto drank so little of the water, that I can neither speak well nor ill of it. The number of people in this place is infinite; but very few whom I know. Harte seems settled here for life. He is not well, that is certain; but not so ill neither as he thinks himself, or at least would be thought.
I’ve been here for just a week now, but I’ve hardly had any of the water, so I can’t really say whether it’s good or bad. There are countless people around, but I don’t know very many of them. Harte seems to have settled here for good. He’s definitely not well, but he’s not as sick as he believes himself to be, or at least not as sick as he wants others to think.
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.
I’m eagerly awaiting your response to my last letter, which included a specific proposal that I assume has been presented to you by now, and I generally support your decision to accept it.
God bless you, my dear friend! and send you better health! Adieu.
God bless you, my dear friend! I hope you feel better soon! Goodbye.
LETTER CCLXXIV
LONDON, February 26, 1765
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last letter, of the 5th, gave me as much pleasure as your former had given me uneasiness; and Larpent’s acknowledgment of his negligence frees you from those suspicions, which I own I did entertain, and which I believe every one would, in the same concurrence of circumstances, have entertained. So much for that.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last letter from the 5th brought me as much joy as your previous one had caused me worry; and Larpent’s admission of his oversight clears you of those doubts, which I admit I did have, and which I believe anyone would have felt under the same set of circumstances. So much for that.
You may depend upon what I promised you, before midsummer next, at farthest, and AT LEAST.
You can count on what I promised you, by the latest before midsummer, and at the very least.
All I can say of the affair between you, of the Corps Diplomatique, and the Saxon Ministers, is, ‘que voila bien du bruit pour une omelette au lard’. It will most certainly be soon made up; and in that negotiation show yourself as moderate and healing as your instructions from hence will allow, especially to Comte de Flemming. The King of Prussia, I believe, has a mind to insult him personally, as an old enemy, or else to quarrel with Saxony, that dares not quarrel with him; but some of the Corps Diplomatique here assure me it is only a pretense to recall his envoy, and to send, when matters shall be made up, a little secretary there, ‘a moins de fraix’, as he does now to Paris and London.
All I can say about the situation between you, the Diplomatic Corps, and the Saxon Ministers is, “that’s quite a lot of fuss over a bacon omelet.” It will definitely be smoothed over soon; in that negotiation, be as moderate and conciliatory as your instructions allow, especially with Comte de Flemming. The King of Prussia seems intent on personally insulting him as an old rival or picking a fight with Saxony, which won’t stand up to him; but some members of the Diplomatic Corps here assure me it’s just a ploy to call back his envoy, and to send, once everything is settled, a minor secretary there, “without any hassle,” as he does now to Paris and London.
Comte Bruhl is much in fashion here; I like him mightily; he has very much ‘le ton de la bonne campagnie’. Poor Schrader died last Saturday, without the least pain or sickness. God bless you!
Comte Bruhl is really popular here; I like him a lot; he has that classic charm of high society. Poor Schrader passed away last Saturday, without any pain or illness. God bless you!
LETTER CCLXXV
LONDON, April 22, 1765
MY DEAR FRIEND: The day before yesterday I received your letter of the 3d instant. I find that your important affair of the ceremonial is adjusted at last, as I foresaw it would be. Such minutiae are often laid hold on as a pretense, for powers who have a mind to quarrel; but are never tenaciously insisted upon where there is neither interest nor inclination to break. Comte Flemming, though a hot, is a wise man; and I was sure would not break, both with England and Hanover, upon so trifling a point, especially during a minority. ‘A propos’ of a minority; the King is to come to the House to-morrow, to recommend a bill to settle a Regency, in case of his demise while his successor is a minor. Upon the King’s late illness, which was no trifling one, the whole nation cried out aloud for such a bill, for reasons which will readily occur to you, who know situations, persons, and characters here. I do not know the particulars of this intended bill; but I wish it may be copied exactly from that which was passed in the late King’s time, when the present King was a minor. I am sure there cannot be a better.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The day before yesterday, I got your letter from the 3rd. I see that your important ceremonial issue has been sorted out at last, just as I expected it would be. Such details are often seized upon as an excuse by those looking for a fight, but they aren’t pushed hard when there’s no desire or reason to create conflict. Comte Flemming, though passionate, is a wise man; I was confident he wouldn’t fall out with either England or Hanover over such a minor issue, especially during a minority. Speaking of a minority, the King is coming to the House tomorrow to propose a bill to establish a Regency in case he passes away while his successor is still a minor. Due to the King’s recent serious illness, the whole nation has been calling for such a bill, for reasons you can easily understand, considering your knowledge of the situation, people, and characters here. I’m not familiar with the details of this proposed bill, but I hope it’s modeled exactly after the one that was passed during the late King’s reign when the current King was a minor. I’m sure there can’t be a better option.
You inquire about Monsieur de Guerchy’s affair; and I will give you as succinct an account as I can of so extraordinary and perplexed a transaction: but without giving you my own opinion of it by the common post. You know what passed at first between Mr. de Guerchy and Monsieur d’Eon, in which both our Ministers and Monsieur de Guerchy, from utter inexperience in business, puzzled themselves into disagreeable difficulties. About three or four months ago, Monsieur du Vergy published in a brochure, a parcel of letters, from himself to the Duc de Choiseul; in which he positively asserts that Monsieur de Guerchy prevailed with him (Vergy) to come over into England to assassinate d’Eon; the words are, as well as I remember, ‘que ce n’etoit pas pour se servir de sa plume, mais de son epee, qu’on le demandoit en Angleterre’. This accusation of assassination, you may imagine, shocked Monsieur de Guerchy, who complained bitterly to our Ministers; and they both puzzled on for some time, without doing anything, because they did not know what to do. At last du Vergy, about two months ago, applied himself to the Grand Jury of Middlesex, and made oath that Mr. de Guerchy had hired him (du Vergy) to assassinate d’Eon. Upon this deposition, the Grand jury found a bill of intended murder against Monsieur de Guerchy; which bill, however, never came to the Petty Jury. The King granted a ‘noli prosequi’ in favor of Monsieur de Guerchy; and the Attorney-General is actually prosecuting du Vergy. Whether the King can grant a ‘noli prosequi’ in a criminal case, and whether ‘le droit des gens’ extends to criminal cases, are two points which employ our domestic politicians, and the whole Corps Diplomatique. ‘Enfin’, to use a very coarse and vulgar saying, ‘il y a de la merde au bout du baton, quelque part’.
You’re asking about Monsieur de Guerchy’s situation, so I’ll give you a brief summary of this strange and complicated matter without sharing my own opinion through the usual channels. You know what happened initially between Mr. de Guerchy and Monsieur d’Eon, where both our ministers and Monsieur de Guerchy, due to their complete lack of experience, got themselves into some very tricky situations. Three or four months ago, Monsieur du Vergy published a pamphlet that included letters he sent to Duc de Choiseul, in which he clearly states that Monsieur de Guerchy convinced him to travel to England to kill d’Eon. The exact words were, as far as I remember, “it wasn’t to use his pen but his sword that he was asked to come to England.” You can imagine how shocking this accusation of assassination was for Monsieur de Guerchy, who complained heavily to our ministers. They were puzzled for a while without taking any action because they didn’t know what to do. Eventually, about two months ago, du Vergy approached the Grand Jury of Middlesex and swore that Mr. de Guerchy hired him to kill d’Eon. Based on this statement, the Grand Jury issued an indictment for intended murder against Monsieur de Guerchy; however, that case never reached the Petit Jury. The King issued a ‘noli prosequi’ in favor of Monsieur de Guerchy, and the Attorney-General is currently prosecuting du Vergy. Whether the King can issue a ‘noli prosequi’ in a criminal case and whether ‘le droit des gens’ applies to criminal matters are two issues currently being debated among our domestic politicians and the entire Diplomatic Corps. In the end, to put it bluntly, “there’s something fishy going on.”
I see and hear these storms from shore, ‘suave mari magno’, etc. I enjoy my own security and tranquillity, together with better health than I had reason to expect at my age, and with my constitution: however, I feel a gradual decay, though a gentle one; and I think that I shall not tumble, but slide gently to the bottom of the hill of life. When that will be, I neither know nor care, for I am very weary. God bless you!
I watch and listen to these storms from the shore, 'smooth seas never made a skillful sailor,' etc. I appreciate my own safety and peace, along with better health than I ever expected at my age and with my body. However, I do feel a slow decline, though it’s a gentle one; and I think that instead of falling, I'll just slide softly down the hill of life. When that will happen, I neither know nor care, because I am very tired. God bless you!
Mallet died two days ago, of a diarrhoea, which he had carried with him to France, and brought back again hither.
Mallet died two days ago from diarrhea, which he had taken with him to France and brought back here.
LETTER CCLXXVI
BLACKHEATH, July 2, 1765
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 22d past; and I delayed answering your former in daily, or rather hourly expectation of informing you of the birth of a new Ministry; but in vain; for, after a thousand conferences, all things remain still in the state which I described to you in my last. Lord S. has, I believe, given you a pretty true account of the present state of things; but my Lord is much mistaken, I am persuaded, when he says that THE KING HAS THOUGHT PROPER TO RE-ESTABLISH HIS OLD SERVANTS IN THE MANAGEMENT OF HIS AFFAIRS; for he shows them all the public dislike possible; and, at his levee, hardly speaks to any of them; but speaks by the hour to anybody else. Conferences, in the meantime, go on, of which it is easy to guess the main subject, but impossible, for me at least, to know the particulars; but this I will venture to prophesy, that the whole will soon centre in Mr. Pitt.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I just received your letter from the 22nd of last month; I held off on replying to your earlier letter, thinking I could inform you about the formation of a new government, but that didn’t happen. After countless discussions, everything remains as I last described to you. I believe Lord S. gave you a pretty accurate picture of the current situation; however, I’m convinced he’s mistaken when he claims that THE KING HAS DECIDED TO RE-INSTATE HIS OLD SERVANTS IN RUNNING HIS AFFAIRS; he shows them all the public's disapproval possible and hardly talks to any of them at his levee, while he chats for hours with everyone else. In the meantime, discussions are ongoing, and while it’s easy to guess the main topic, it’s impossible for me to know the details. I will, however, go out on a limb and predict that everything will soon revolve around Mr. Pitt.
You seem not to know the character of the Queen: here it is. She is a good woman, a good wife, a tender mother; and an unmeddling Queen. The King loves her as a woman; but, I verily believe, has never yet spoke one word to her about business. I have now told you all that I know of these affairs; which, I believe, is as much as anybody else knows, who is not in the secret. In the meantime, you easily guess that surmises, conjectures, and reports are infinite; and if, as they say, truth is but one, one million at least of these reports must be false; for they differ exceedingly.
You don't seem to understand the Queen's character: here it is. She’s a good person, a great wife, and a caring mother; and she stays out of politics. The King loves her as a partner, but I truly believe he hasn’t discussed any matters of state with her. I’ve shared everything I know about these issues, which I believe is as much as anyone else knows who isn’t in the loop. In the meantime, you can easily imagine that there are countless rumors, guesses, and reports, and if, as they say, there can only be one truth, then at least a million of these reports have to be false because they are significantly different from one another.
You have lost an honest servant by the death of poor Louis; I would advise you to take a clever young Saxon in his room, of whose character you may get authentic testimonies, instead of sending for one to France, whose character you can only know from far.
You've lost a loyal servant with the death of poor Louis; I suggest you hire a smart young Saxon to fill his position, someone whose character you can verify with reliable references, rather than bringing someone in from France, about whom you can only have distant impressions.
When I hear more, I will write more; till when, God bless you!
When I hear more, I'll write more; until then, take care!
LETTER CCLXXVII
BLACKHEATH, July 15, 1765
MY DEAR FRIEND: I told you in my last, that you should hear from me again, as soon as I had anything more to write; and now I have too much to write, therefore will refer you to the “Gazette,” and the office letters, for all that has been done; and advise you to suspend your opinion, as I do, about all that is to be done. Many more changes are talked of, but so idly, and variously, that I give credit to none of them. There has been pretty clean sweeping already; and I do not remember, in my time, to have seen so much at once, as an entire new Board of Treasury, and two new Secretaries of State, ‘cum multis aliis’, etc.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I mentioned in my last message that you would hear from me again as soon as I had more to share, and now I have so much to discuss that I’ll just direct you to the “Gazette” and the office letters for everything that has been done. I suggest you hold off on forming any opinions, just as I am doing, about what’s yet to come. Many more changes are being mentioned, but they sound so random and vague that I don’t believe any of them. There have already been significant changes; I don’t recall seeing so much happening at once, like a completely new Board of Treasury and two new Secretaries of State, ‘cum multis aliis’, etc.
Here is a new political arch almost built, but of materials of so different a nature, and without a key-stone, that it does not, in my opinion, indicate either strength or duration. It will certainly require repairs, and a key-stone next winter; and that key-stone will, and must necessarily be, Mr. Pitt. It is true he might have been that keystone now; and would have accepted it, but not without Lord Temple’s consent, and Lord Temple positively refused. There was evidently some trick in this, but what is past my conjecturing. ‘Davus sum, non OEdipus’.
Here is a new political structure almost completed, but made from such different materials and lacking a keystone that, in my view, it lacks both strength and longevity. It will definitely need repairs and a key-stone next winter; and that key-stone will, and must, be Mr. Pitt. It's true he could have been that keystone now and would have agreed, but not without Lord Temple’s approval, which Lord Temple flatly denied. It's clear there was some kind of scheme at play, but I can't figure out what it was. ‘Davus sum, non OEdipus’.
There is a manifest interregnum in the Treasury; for I do suppose that Lord Rockingham and Mr. Dowdeswell will not think proper to be very active. General Conway, who is your Secretary, has certainly parts at least equal to his business, to which, I dare say, he will apply. The same may be said, I believe, of the Duke of Grafton; and indeed there is no magic requisite for the executive part of those employments. The ministerial part is another thing; they must scramble with their fellow-servants, for power and favor, as well as they can. Foreign affairs are not so much as mentioned, and, I verily believe, not thought of. But surely some counterbalance would be necessary to the Family compact; and, if not soon contracted, will be too late. God bless you!
There’s a clear gap in the Treasury right now; I assume that Lord Rockingham and Mr. Dowdeswell won’t want to be very active. General Conway, your Secretary, definitely has skills that match his role, and I’m sure he’ll put them to use. I believe the same can be said for the Duke of Grafton; honestly, there’s nothing magical needed for the practical aspects of those jobs. The political side is a different story; they have to compete with their colleagues for power and favor as best as they can. Foreign affairs aren’t even being mentioned, and I honestly believe they’re not even considered. However, some kind of balance will be necessary against the Family compact, and if it’s not established soon, it will be too late. Take care!
LETTER CCLXXVIII
BLACKHEATH, August 17, 1765
MY DEAR FRIEND: You are now two letters in my debt; and I fear the gout has been the cause of your contracting that debt. When you are not able to write yourself, let your Secretary send me two or three lines to acquaint me how you are.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You owe me two letters now, and I worry that the gout has been the reason for that. When you can't write yourself, have your Secretary send me a couple of lines to let me know how you're doing.
You have now seen by the London “Gazette,” what changes have really been made at court; but, at the same time, I believe you have seen that there must be more, before a Ministry can be settled; what those will be, God knows. Were I to conjecture, I should say that the whole will centre, before it is long, in Mr. Pitt and Co., the present being an heterogeneous jumble of youth and caducity, which cannot be efficient.
You’ve seen in the London “Gazette” what changes have actually happened at court; however, I think you realize that more needs to happen before a Ministry can be established. What those changes will be, only God knows. If I had to guess, I would say everything will eventually focus on Mr. Pitt and his group, as the current situation is an uneven mix of young and old that just won't work efficiently.
Charles Townshend calls the present a Lutestring Ministry; fit only for the summer. The next session will be not only a warm, but a violent one, as you will easily judge; if you look over the names of the INS and of the OUTS.
Charles Townshend refers to the current government as a Lutestring Ministry, suitable only for summer. The upcoming session will be not just warm but intense, as you can easily tell by reviewing the names of the INS and the OUTS.
I feel this beginning of the autumn, which is already very cold: the leaves are withered, fall apace, and seem to intimate that I must follow them; which I shall do without reluctance, being extremely weary of this silly world. God bless you, both in it and after it!
I can feel the start of autumn, which is already really cold: the leaves are dry, falling quickly, and seem to suggest that I should follow them; which I will do willingly, as I’m very tired of this ridiculous world. God bless you, both in this life and the next!
LETTER CCLXXIX
BLACKHEATH, August 25, 1765
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received but four days ago your letter of the 2d instant. I find by it that you are well, for you are in good spirits. Your notion of the new birth or regeneration of the Ministry is a very just one; and that they have not yet the true seal of the covenant is, I dare say, very true; at least it is not in the possession of either of the Secretaries of State, who have only the King’s seal; nor do I believe (whatever his Grace may imagine) that it is even in the possession of the Lord Privy Seal. I own I am lost, in considering the present situation of affairs; different conjectures present themselves to my mind, but none that it can rest upon. The next session must necessarily clear up matters a good deal; for I believe it will be the warmest and most acrimonious one that has been known, since that of the Excise. The late Ministry, THE PRESENT OPPOSITION, are determined to attack Lord B——-publicly in parliament, and reduce the late Opposition, THE PRESENT MINISTRY, to protect him publicly, in consequence of their supposed treaty with him. ‘En attendant mieux’, the paper war is carried on with much fury and scurrility on all sides, to the great entertainment of such lazy and impartial people as myself: I do not know whether you have the “Daily Advertiser,” and the “Public Advertiser,” in which all political letters are inserted, and some very well-written ones on both sides; but I know that they amuse me, ‘tant bien que mal’, for an hour or two every morning. Lord T———is the supposed author of the pamphlet you mention; but I think it is above him. Perhaps his brother C——T———, who is by no means satisfied with the present arrangement, may have assisted him privately. As to this latter, there was a good ridiculous paragraph in the newspapers two or three days ago. WE HEAR THAT THE RIGHT HONORABLE MR. C——-T———IS INDISPOSED AT HIS HOUSE IN OXFORDSHIRE, OF A PAIN IN HIS SIDE; BUT IT IS NOT SAID IN WHICH SIDE.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from the 2nd just four days ago. I can see from it that you're doing well since you're in good spirits. Your idea about the new birth or renewal of the Ministry is quite valid; it's also true that they do not yet hold the true seal of the covenant, at least not in the hands of either Secretary of State, who only have the King’s seal; nor do I believe, despite what his Grace might think, that it’s even in the possession of the Lord Privy Seal. I must admit I feel lost when I think about the current state of affairs; various theories come to mind, but none that I can truly settle on. The next session is bound to clarify things quite a bit because I believe it will be the most heated and contentious one since the time of the Excise. The former Ministry, THE CURRENT OPPOSITION, intends to publicly attack Lord B—— in Parliament, while the former Opposition, THE CURRENT MINISTRY, is expected to publicly defend him due to their assumed agreement with him. In the meantime, the war of words is being waged with intense aggression and insults on all sides, which thoroughly entertains lazy and neutral folks like me: I’m not sure if you get the “Daily Advertiser” and the “Public Advertiser,” where all the political letters are published, featuring some well-written pieces from both sides; but I know they keep me amused, albeit somewhat, for an hour or two each morning. Lord T——— is rumored to be the author of the pamphlet you mentioned, but I think it's beyond him. Perhaps his brother C——T———, who isn’t at all happy with the current setup, might have secretly helped him. Regarding the latter, there was an amusing paragraph in the newspapers a few days ago. WE HEAR THAT THE RIGHT HONORABLE MR. C——-T———IS UNWELL AT HIS HOUSE IN OXFORDSHIRE, SUFFERING FROM A PAIN IN HIS SIDE; BUT IT IS NOT SPECIFIED WHICH SIDE.
I do not find that the Duke of York has yet visited you; if he should, it may be expensive, ‘mais on trouvera moyen’. As for the lady, if you should be very sharp set for some English flesh, she has it amply in her power to supply you if she pleases. Pray tell me in your next, what you think of, and how you like, Prince Henry of Prussia. God bless you!
I don't see that the Duke of York has visited you yet; if he does, it could be costly, 'but we'll figure something out.' Regarding the lady, if you're really eager for some English company, she has more than enough ability to provide that if she wants to. Please let me know in your next message what you think of and how you like Prince Henry of Prussia. God bless you!
LETTER CCLXXX
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your great character of Prince Henry, which I take to be a very just one, lowers the King of Prussia’s a great deal; and probably that is the cause of their being so ill together. But the King of Prussia, with his good parts, should reflect upon that trite and true maxim, ‘Qui invidet minor’, or Mr. de la Rouchefoucault’s, ‘Que l’envie est la plus basse de toutes les passions, puisqu’on avoue bien des crimes, mais que personae n’avoue l’envie’. I thank God, I never was sensible of that dark and vile passion, except that formerly I have sometimes envied a successful rival with a fine woman. But now that cause is ceased, and consequently the effects.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your impressive character as Prince Henry, which I believe to be quite accurate, really puts the King of Prussia at a disadvantage; and that’s probably why their relationship is so strained. However, the King of Prussia, despite his good qualities, should remember that familiar and true saying, ‘He who envies is lesser,’ or Mr. de la Rochefoucauld’s insight, ‘Envy is the lowest of all passions, because people admit to many crimes, but no one admits to envy.’ I thank God I’ve never felt that dark and vile emotion, except for a time when I envied a successful rival who had a beautiful woman. But that situation has passed, and so have those feelings.
What shall I, or rather what can I tell you of the political world here? The late Ministers accuse the present with having done nothing, the present accuse the late ones with having done much worse than nothing. Their writers abuse one another most scurrilously, but sometimes with wit. I look upon this to be ‘peloter en attendant partie’, till battle begins in St., Stephen’s Chapel. How that will end, I protest I cannot conjecture; any farther than this, that if Mr. Pitt does not come into the assistance of the present ministers, they will have much to do to stand their ground. C——-T———will play booty; and who else have they? Nobody but C——-, who has only good sense, but not the necessary talents nor experience, ‘AEre ciere viros martemque accendere cantu’. I never remember, in all my time, to have seen so problematical a state of affairs, and a man would be much puzzled which side to bet on.
What should I, or rather what can I tell you about the political scene here? The former ministers blame the current ones for doing nothing, while the current ones accuse the former of doing much worse than nothing. Their writers insult each other in the most scathing ways, but sometimes with humor. I see this as just a warm-up until the real debate starts in St. Stephen’s Chapel. I honestly can’t guess how that will turn out, except to say that if Mr. Pitt doesn’t step in to help the current ministers, they will struggle to hold their ground. C——-T——— will be a major player; and who else do they have? Nobody but C———, who has good sense but lacks the necessary skills or experience, ‘AEre ciere viros martemque accendere cantu’. I have never seen such a confusing situation, and it would leave a person wondering which side to bet on.
Your guest, Miss C——-, is another problem which I cannot solve. She no more wanted the waters of Carlsbadt than you did. Is it to show the Duke of Kingston that he cannot live without her? a dangerous experiment! which may possibly convince him that he can. There is a trick no doubt in it; but what, I neither know nor care; you did very well to show her civilities, ‘cela ne gute jamais rien’. I will go to my waters, that is, the Bath waters, in three weeks or a month, more for the sake of bathing than of drinking. The hot bath always promotes my perspiration, which is sluggish, and supples my stiff rheumatic limbs. ‘D’ailleurs’, I am at present as well, and better than I could reasonably expect to be, ‘annu septuagesimo primo’. May you be so as long, ‘y mas’! God bless you!
Your guest, Miss C——-, is another issue I can't figure out. She wanted the waters of Carlsbad as much as you did. Is it to prove to the Duke of Kingston that he can't live without her? That's a risky move! It might even convince him that he can. There's definitely some trickery involved, but I really don't know or care what it is; you did well to treat her politely, 'that never leads to anything good'. I'm planning to go to my waters, meaning the Bath waters, in three weeks or a month, mainly for bathing rather than drinking. The hot bath always gets my sluggish sweat going and loosens my stiff, rheumatic limbs. 'Besides', I'm currently doing as well, if not better, than I could reasonably expect to be, 'at seventy-one'. May you stay that way for as long, 'and more'! God bless you!
LETTER CCLXXXI
LONDON, October 25, 1765
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter of the 10th ‘sonica’; for I set out for Bath to-morrow morning.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I got your letter from the 10th 'sonica'; I'm leaving for Bath tomorrow morning.
If the use of those waters does me no good, the shifting the scene for some time will at least amuse me a little; and at my age, and with my infirmities, ‘il faut faire de tout bois feche’. Some variety is as necessary for the mind as some medicines are for the body.
If using those waters doesn’t help me, changing the scenery for a bit will at least entertain me. At my age and with my health issues, ‘we must make the best of what we have.’ Some variety is as important for the mind as some medicines are for the body.
Here is a total stagnation of politics, which, I suppose, will continue till the parliament sits to do business, and that will not be till about the middle of January; for the meeting on the 17th December is only for the sake of some new writs. The late ministers threaten the present ones; but the latter do not seem in the least afraid of the former, and for a very good reason, which is, that they have the distribution of the loaves and fishes. I believe it is very certain that Mr. Pitt will never come into this, or any other administration: he is absolutely a cripple all the year, and in violent pain at least half of it. Such physical ills are great checks to two of the strongest passions to which human nature is liable, love and ambition. Though I cannot persuade myself that the present ministry can be long lived, I can as little imagine who or what can succeed them, ‘telle est la-disette de sujets papables’. The Duke of swears that he will have Lord personally attacked in both Houses; but I do not see how, without endangering himself at the same time.
Right now, politics is completely at a standstill, and I guess it will stay that way until parliament reconvenes to conduct business, which won’t be until around the middle of January. The meeting on December 17 is only to address some new writs. The former ministers threaten the current ones, but the latter don’t seem worried at all, and for a very good reason—they control the distribution of resources. I’m pretty certain that Mr. Pitt will never join this or any other administration: he’s basically incapacitated all year and in severe pain for at least half of it. Such physical ailments greatly hinder two of the strongest human emotions: love and ambition. While I can’t convince myself that the current government will last long, I also can’t imagine who or what could take their place; “the supply of suitable candidates is very low.” The Duke of swears he’ll have Lord personally attacked in both Houses, but I don’t see how he can do that without putting himself at risk as well.
Miss C———is safely arrived here, and her Duke is fonder of her than ever. It was a dangerous experiment that she tried, in leaving him so long; but it seems she knew her man.
Miss C——— has safely arrived here, and her Duke is more in love with her than ever. It was a risky move for her to leave him for so long, but it looks like she understood him well.
I pity you for the inundation of your good countrymen, which overwhelms you; ‘je sais ce qu’en vaut l’aune. It is, besides, expensive, but, as I look upon the expense to be the least evil of the two, I will see if a New-Year’s gift will not make it up.
I feel sorry for you because of the flood of your good fellow countrymen that is overwhelming you; 'I know what it's worth. It's also costly, but since I see the cost as the lesser of the two evils, I'll see if a New Year's gift can help make up for it.
As I am now upon the wing, I will only add, God bless you!
As I take off, I'll just say, God bless you!
LETTER CCLXXXII
BATH, November 28, 1765
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 10th. I have now been here a month, bathing and drinking the waters, for complaints much of the same kind as yours, I mean pains in my legs, hips, and arms: whether gouty or rheumatic, God knows; but, I believe, both, that fight without a decision in favor of either, and have absolutely reduced me to the miserable situation of the Sphinx’s riddle, to walk upon three legs; that is, with the assistance of my stick, to walk, or rather hobble, very indifferently. I wish it were a declared gout, which is the distemper of a gentleman; whereas the rheumatism is the distemper of a hackney-coachman or chairman, who is obliged to be out in all weathers and at all hours.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I just received your letter from the 10th. I’ve been here for a month now, soaking in the baths and drinking the waters, for issues quite similar to yours, specifically pain in my legs, hips, and arms. Whether it’s gout or rheumatism, only God knows; but I think it’s a bit of both, battling it out without a clear winner, and it has unfortunately reduced me to a miserable state similar to the Sphinx's riddle, having to walk on three legs; that is, using my cane to walk, or rather hobble, quite poorly. I wish it were definitely gout, which is the ailment of a gentleman; on the other hand, rheumatism is more the ailment of a cab driver or a laborer, who has to be out in all sorts of weather and at all hours.
I think you will do very right to ask leave, and I dare say you will easily get it, to go to the baths in Suabia; that is, supposing that you have consulted some skillful physician, if such a one there be, either at Dresden or at Leipsic, about the nature of your distemper, and the nature of those baths; but, ‘suos quisque patimur manes’. We have but a bad bargain, God knows, of this life, and patience is the only way not to make bad worse. Mr. Pitt keeps his bed here, with a very real gout, and not a political one, as is often suspected.
I think it’s a good idea for you to request leave, and I’m sure you’ll get it easily to go to the baths in Suabia. That is, if you’ve seen a skilled doctor, if there is one, in either Dresden or Leipsic, regarding your illness and the nature of those baths; but, as the saying goes, “we all suffer our own fates.” Life is a rough deal, and patience is the only way to avoid making things worse. Mr. Pitt is staying in bed here with a real case of gout, not the political kind that people often suspect.
Here has been a congress of most of the ‘ex Ministres’. If they have raised a battery, as I suppose they have, it is a masked one, for nothing has transpired; only they confess that they intend a most vigorous attack. ‘D’ailleurs’, there seems to be a total suspension of all business, till the meeting of the parliament, and then ‘Signa canant’. I am very glad that at this time you are out of it: and for reasons that I need not mention: you would certainly have been sent for over, and, as before, not paid for your journey.
There has been a meeting of most of the former ministers. If they’ve prepared a strategy, as I suspect they have, it’s a secret one because nothing has leaked; they only admit that they plan a strong offensive. Moreover, there seems to be a complete halt to all business until Parliament meets, and then things will kick off. I’m really glad you’re not involved in this right now, for reasons I don't need to explain: you definitely would have been called over, and, as before, not compensated for your trip.
Poor Harte is very ill, and condemned to the Hot well at Bristol. He is a better poet than philosopher: for all this illness and melancholy proceeds originally from the ill success of his “Gustavus Adolphus.” He is grown extremely devout, which I am very glad of, because that is always a comfort to the afflicted.
Poor Harte is very sick and stuck at the Hot Well in Bristol. He’s a better poet than a philosopher because all this illness and sadness originally comes from the poor reception of his “Gustavus Adolphus.” He has become really devout, which I’m very happy about, because that’s always comforting for those who are suffering.
I cannot present Mr. Larpent with my New-Year’s gift, till I come to town, which will be before Christmas at farthest; till when, God bless you! Adieu.
I can't give Mr. Larpent my New Year's gift until I get to town, which will be before Christmas at the latest; until then, take care! Goodbye.
LETTER CCLXXXIII
LONDON, December 27, 1765.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here from Bath last Monday, rather, but not much better, than when I went over there. My rheumatic pains, in my legs and hips, plague me still, and I must never expect to be quite free from them.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here from Bath last Monday, and I’m still not much better than when I went over there. The rheumatic pain in my legs and hips is still bothering me, and I can’t expect to be completely free of it.
You have, to be sure, had from the office an account of what the parliament did, or rather did not do, the day of their meeting; and the same point will be the great object at their next meeting; I mean the affair of our American Colonies, relatively to the late imposed Stamp-duty, which our Colonists absolutely refuse to pay. The Administration are for some indulgence and forbearance to those froward children of their mother country; the Opposition are for taking vigorous, as they call them, but I call them violent measures; not less than ‘les dragonnades’; and to have the tax collected by the troops we have there. For my part, I never saw a froward child mended by whipping; and I would not have the mother country become a stepmother. Our trade to America brings in, ‘communibus annis’, two millions a year; and the Stamp-duty is estimated at but one hundred thousand pounds a year; which I would by no means bring into the stock of the Exchequer, at the loss or even the risk of a million a year to the national stock.
You have definitely received from the office an account of what parliament did, or rather didn’t do, on the day of their meeting; and the same issue will be the main focus at their next meeting; I'm talking about the situation with our American Colonies regarding the recently imposed Stamp duty, which our Colonists are completely refusing to pay. The Administration is in favor of showing some leniency and patience to those stubborn children of their mother country; the Opposition wants to take strong, what they call vigorous, but I consider violent measures; no less than ‘les dragonnades’; and to have the tax collected by the troops we have there. Personally, I’ve never seen a stubborn child improve from punishment; and I don’t want the mother country to turn into a stepmother. Our trade to America brings in, on average, two million a year; and the Stamp duty is estimated to only be one hundred thousand pounds a year; which I would never want to include in the Exchequer at the cost or even the risk of losing a million a year for the national finances.
I do not tell you of the Garter given away yesterday, because the newspapers will; but, I must observe, that the Prince of Brunswick’s riband is a mark of great distinction to that family; which I believe, is the first (except our own Royal Family) that has ever had two blue ribands at a time; but it must be owned they deserve them.
I won't mention the Garter that was awarded yesterday since the newspapers will cover that, but I have to point out that the Prince of Brunswick's ribbon is a significant honor for that family. As far as I know, they're the first ones (other than our own Royal Family) to have two blue ribbons at once, and I must admit they deserve it.
One hears of nothing now in town, but the separation of men and their wives. Will Finch, the Ex-vice Chamberlain, Lord Warwick, and your friend Lord Bolingbroke. I wonder at none of them for parting; but I wonder at many for still living together; for in this country it is certain that marriage is not well understood.
One hears nothing else in town now but about men separating from their wives. Will Finch, the former Vice Chamberlain, Lord Warwick, and your friend Lord Bolingbroke. I’m not surprised by any of them splitting up; what surprises me is how many are still together because it’s clear that marriage isn’t well understood in this country.
I have this day sent Mr. Larpent two hundred pounds for your Christmas-box, of which I suppose he will inform you by this post. Make this Christmas as merry a one as you can; for ‘pour le peu du bon tems qui nous reste, rien nest si funeste, qu’un noir chagrin’. For the new years—God send you many, and happy ones! Adieu.
I’ve sent Mr. Larpent two hundred pounds for your Christmas gift today, and I assume he’ll let you know about it in this post. Make this Christmas as joyful as you can because "for the little bit of good time we have left, nothing is as harmful as a dark sadness." For the New Year—may you have many happy ones! Goodbye.
1766-1771
LETTER CCLXXXIV
LETTER 284
LONDON, February 11, 1766
LONDON, February 11, 1766
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received two days ago your letter of the 25th past; and your former, which you mention in it, but ten days ago; this may easily be accounted for from the badness of the weather, and consequently of the roads. I hardly remember so severe a win ter; it has occasioned many illnesses here. I am sure it pinched my crazy carcass so much that, about three weeks ago, I was obliged to be let blood twice in four days, which I found afterward was very necessary, by the relief it gave to my head and to the rheumatic pains in my limbs; and from the execrable kind of blood which I lost.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from the 25th a couple of days ago, along with the earlier one you mentioned, which arrived about ten days ago. This delay can easily be explained by the terrible weather and the bad roads. I can hardly recall such a harsh winter; it has caused a lot of illnesses here. I'm sure it affected my poor body so much that about three weeks ago, I had to have blood drawn twice in four days. I later realized how necessary it was, given the relief it brought to my head and the rheumatic pain in my limbs, not to mention the horrible quality of blood I lost.
Perhaps you expect from me a particular account of the present state of affairs here; but if you do you will be disappointed; for no man living (and I still less than anyone) knows what it is; it varies, not only daily, but hourly.
Perhaps you expect a specific update on the current situation here; if so, you will be disappointed, because no one knows what it actually is—not even me. It changes not just daily, but hourly.
Most people think, and I among the rest, that the date of the present Ministers is pretty near out; but how soon we are to have a new style, God knows. This, however, is certain, that the Ministers had a contested election in the House of Commons, and got it but by eleven votes; too small a majority to carry anything; the next day they lost a question in the House of Lords, by three. The question in the House of Lords was, to enforce the execution of the Stamp-act in the colonies ‘vi et armis’. What conclusions you will draw from these premises, I do not know; but I protest I draw none; but only stare at the present undecipherable state of affairs, which, in fifty years’ experience, I have never seen anything like. The Stamp-act has proved a most pernicious measure; for, whether it is repealed or not, which is still very doubtful, it has given such terror to the Americans, that our trade with them will not be, for some years, what it used to be; and great numbers of our manufacturers at home will be turned a starving for want of that employment which our very profitable trade to America found them: and hunger is always the cause of tumults and sedition.
Most people think, and I agree, that the current government is almost done for; but how soon we’ll see a change, only God knows. What is certain is that the government had a close vote in the House of Commons and won by just eleven votes—way too narrow a majority to get anything done. The next day, they lost a vote in the House of Lords by three votes. The issue in the House of Lords was whether to enforce the Stamp Act in the colonies "by force." I don’t know what conclusions you’ll draw from this, but I must admit I’m not drawing any; I just find myself staring at this baffling situation, which, in my fifty years of experience, I’ve never seen anything like. The Stamp Act has been a terrible decision; whether it’s repealed or not, which is still very uncertain, it has created such fear among Americans that our trade with them won’t be what it used to be for years to come. Many of our domestic manufacturers will be left struggling without the jobs that our once-profitable trade with America provided them, and hunger always leads to unrest and rebellion.
As you have escaped a fit of the gout in this severe cold weather, it is to be hoped you may be entirely free from it, till next winter at least.
Since you've avoided a gout attack in this harsh cold weather, let's hope you stay completely free from it until at least next winter.
P. S. Lord having parted with his wife, now, keeps another w—-e, at a great expense. I fear he is totally undone.
P. S. Lord, after separating from his wife, is now keeping another woman at a huge cost. I worry he's completely ruined.
LETTER CCLXXXV
LONDON, March 17, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You wrong me in thinking me in your debt; for I never receive a letter of yours, but I answer it by the next post, or the next but one, at furthest: but I can easily conceive that my two last letters to you may have been drowned or frozen in their way; for portents and prodigies of frost, snow, and inundations, have been so frequent this winter, that they have almost lost their names.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You’re mistaken if you think I owe you anything; I always reply to your letters by the next mail, or at the latest the one after that. However, I can understand that my last two letters to you might have been lost or delayed due to the terrible frost, snow, and floods we’ve experienced this winter—there have been so many that they’ve almost lost their names.
You tell me that you are going to the baths of BADEN; but that puzzles me a little, so I recommend this letter to the care of Mr. Larpent, to forward to you; for Baden I take to be the general German word for baths, and the particular ones are distinguished by some epithet, as Weissbaden, Carlsbaden, etc. I hope they are not cold baths, which I have a very ill opinion of, in all arthritic or rheumatic cases; and your case I take to be a compound of both, but rather more of the latter.
You told me you're going to the baths at BADEN, but that confuses me a bit. So, I'm giving this letter to Mr. Larpent to send to you. I think "Baden" is the general German term for baths, and the specific ones are named differently, like Weissbaden, Carlsbaden, etc. I hope they aren't cold baths because I have a pretty low opinion of them for anyone with arthritis or rheumatism. I believe your condition is a mix of both, but leaning more towards the latter.
You will probably wonder that I tell you nothing of public matters; upon which I shall be as secret as Hotspur’s gentle Kate, who would not tell what she did not know; but what is singular, nobody seems to know any more of them than I do. People gape, stare, conjecture, and refine. Changes of the Ministry, or in the Ministry at least, are daily reported and foretold, but of what kind, God only knows. It is also very doubtful whether Mr. Pitt will come into the Administration or not; the two present Secretaries are extremely desirous that he should; but the others think of the horse that called the man to its assistance. I will say nothing to you about American affairs, because I have not pens, ink, or paper enough to give you an intelligible account of them. They have been the subjects of warm and acrimonious debates, both in the Lords and Commons, and in all companies.
You might wonder why I’m not sharing any news about public issues; I’ll be as tight-lipped as Hotspur’s gentle Kate, who wouldn’t reveal anything she didn’t know. The strange thing is, nobody seems to be any more informed about these matters than I am. People are just staring, guessing, and speculating. Daily reports and predictions about changes in the Ministry are everywhere, but the specifics are anyone's guess. It’s also uncertain whether Mr. Pitt will join the Administration; the two current Secretaries are really hoping he will, but the others are skeptical. I won’t say anything about American affairs because I don’t have enough pens, ink, or paper to give you a clear account. They’ve been hot topics of heated and bitter debates in both the House of Lords and the House of Commons, as well as in all social circles.
The repeal of the Stamp-act is at last carried through. I am glad of it, and gave my proxy for it, because I saw many more inconveniences from the enforcing than from the repealing it.
The Stamp Act has finally been repealed. I'm happy about it and supported the decision because I noticed there were many more problems caused by enforcing it than by getting rid of it.
Colonel Browne was with me the other day, and assured me that he left you very well. He said he saw you at Spa, but I did not remember him; though I remember his two brothers, the Colonel and the ravisher, very well. Your Saxon colonel has the brogue exceedingly. Present my respects to Count Flemming; I am very sorry for the Countess’s illness; she was a most well-bred woman.
Colonel Browne was with me the other day and assured me that he left you in great shape. He mentioned seeing you at Spa, but I didn't recognize him; although I remember his two brothers, the Colonel and the guy who caused trouble, very well. Your Saxon colonel has quite the accent. Please send my regards to Count Flemming; I'm really sorry to hear about the Countess’s illness; she was a truly refined woman.
You would hardly think that I gave a dinner to the Prince of Brunswick, your old acquaintance. I glad it is over; but I could not avoid it. ‘Il m’avait tabli de politesses’. God bless you!
You’d hardly believe that I hosted a dinner for the Prince of Brunswick, your old friend. I’m glad it’s over; but I couldn’t help it. ‘He had set me up for niceties’. God bless you!
LETTER CCLXXXVI
BLACKHEATH, June 13, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 30th past. I waited with impatience for it, not having received one from you in six weeks; nor your mother neither, who began to be very sure that you were dead, if not buried. You should write to her once a week, or at least once a-fortnight; for women make no allowance either for business or laziness; whereas I can, by experience, make allowances for both: however, I wish you would generally write to me once a fortnight.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I got your letter from the 30th yesterday. I was eagerly waiting for it since I hadn’t heard from you in six weeks; your mother hadn’t either, and she was starting to worry that you were dead, if not buried. You should write to her once a week, or at least every other week; women don't understand business or laziness, while I know how to make excuses for both. Still, I wish you would generally write to me at least once every two weeks.
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.
Last week, I made my midsummer payment of five hundred pounds to Mr. Larpent for your use, as I assume he has let you know. You have to admit I'm reliable.
What account shall I give you of ministerial affairs here? I protest I do not know: your own description of them is as exact a one as any I, who am upon the place, can give you. It is a total dislocation and ‘derangement’; consequently a total inefficiency. When the Duke of Grafton quitted the seals, he gave that very reason for it, in a speech in the House of Lords: he declared, “that he had no objection to the persons or the measures of the present Ministers; but that he thought they wanted strength and efficiency to carry on proper measures with success; and that he knew but one man MEANING, AS YOU WILL EASILY SUPPOSE, MR. PITT who could give them strength and solidity; that, under this person, he should be willing to serve in any capacity, not only as a General Officer, but as a pioneer; and would take up a spade and a mattock.” When he quitted the seals, they were offered first to Lord Egmont, then to Lord Hardwicke; who both declined them, probably for the same reasons that made the Duke of Grafton resign them; but after their going a-begging for some time, the Duke of———-begged them, and has them ‘faute de mieux’. Lord Mountstuart was never thought of for Vienna, where Lord Stormont returns in three months; the former is going to be married to one of the Miss Windsors, a great fortune. To tell you the speculations, the reasonings, and the conjectures, either of the uninformed, or even of the best-informed public, upon the present wonderful situation of affairs, would take up much more time and paper than either you or I can afford, though we have neither of us a great deal of business at present.
What should I tell you about the situation with the government here? Honestly, I’m not sure; your own description of it is just as accurate as anything I, being here on the ground, can provide. It’s a complete mess and confusion; and as a result, it’s totally ineffective. When the Duke of Grafton stepped down, he gave this exact reason during a speech in the House of Lords: he stated, “I have no issue with the individuals or the policies of the current Ministers; but I believe they lack the strength and effectiveness needed to successfully implement proper measures; and I know of only one person—YOU CAN GUESS WHO, MR. PITT—who could provide them that strength and stability; and under his leadership, I would be willing to serve in any role, not just as a General Officer, but as a worker; I would even grab a shovel and pickaxe.” After he stepped down, the position was first offered to Lord Egmont, then to Lord Hardwicke; both turned it down, likely for the same reasons that led the Duke of Grafton to resign. But after being vacant for a while, the Duke of ——- accepted the role, albeit reluctantly. Lord Mountstuart wasn’t even considered for Vienna, where Lord Stormont will return in three months; the former is about to marry one of the Miss Windsors, who is quite wealthy. To share all the theories, arguments, and speculations, whether from the uninformed or even the most knowledgeable public, about this astonishing state of affairs would take much more time and paper than either of us can spare, even though neither of us has a ton of work at the moment.
I am in as good health as I could reasonably expect, at my age, and with my shattered carcass; that is, from the waist upward; but downward it is not the same: for my limbs retain that stiffness and debility of my long rheumatism; I cannot walk half an hour at a time. As the autumn, and still more as the winter approaches, take care to keep yourself very warm, especially your legs and feet.
I'm in as good health as I could reasonably expect at my age, considering my worn-out body; that is, from the waist up. However, it's not the same below: my legs still have that stiffness and weakness from my long battle with rheumatism; I can’t walk for more than half an hour at a time. As autumn and especially winter come, make sure to keep yourself very warm, especially your legs and feet.
Lady Chesterfield sends you her compliments, and triumphs in the success of her plaster. God bless you!
Lady Chesterfield sends you her regards and is thrilled about the success of her plaster. Take care!
LETTER CCLXXXVII
BLACKHEATH, July 11, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You are a happy mortal, to have your time thus employed between the great and the fair; I hope you do the honors of your country to the latter. The Emperor, by your account, seems to be very well for an emperor; who, by being above the other monarchs in Europe, may justly be supposed to have had a proportionably worse education. I find, by your account of him, that he has been trained up to homicide, the only science in which princes are ever instructed; and with good reason, as their greatness and glory singly depend upon the numbers of their fellow-creatures which their ambition exterminates. If a sovereign should, by great accident, deviate into moderation, justice, and clemency, what a contemptible figure would he make in the catalogue of princes! I have always owned a great regard for King Log. From the interview at Torgaw, between the two monarchs, they will be either a great deal better or worse together; but I think rather the latter; for our namesake, Philip de Co mines, observes, that he never knew any good come from l’abouchement des Rois. The King of Prussia will exert all his perspicacity to analyze his Imperial Majesty; and I would bet upon the one head of his black eagle, against the two heads of the Austrian eagle; though two heads are said, proverbially, to be better than one. I wish I had the direction of both the monarchs, and they should, together with some of their allies, take Lorraine and Alsace from France. You will call me ‘l’Abbe de St. Pierre’; but I only say what I wish; whereas he thought everything that he wished practicable.
MY DEAR FRIEND: You’re a lucky person to spend your time with such great and beautiful things; I hope you represent your country well to the latter. The Emperor, from what you say, seems to be doing quite well for an emperor; being above the other monarchs in Europe, he must have had a correspondingly poorer education. From your description, it seems he has been trained for violence, the only subject princes ever really learn; and rightly so, since their greatness and glory depend solely on how many of their fellow beings their ambitions wipe out. If a ruler were, by some rare chance, to turn toward moderation, justice, and kindness, how ridiculous he would look among other princes! I've always had a strong admiration for King Log. Based on the meeting at Torgaw between the two monarchs, they will either be a lot better or a lot worse together; I suspect the latter, because our namesake, Philip de Comines, noted that he never saw anything good come from the meeting of kings. The King of Prussia will use all his insight to assess his Imperial Majesty; I’d bet on one head of his black eagle against the two heads of the Austrian eagle, even though it’s said that two heads are better than one. I wish I could guide both monarchs, and they along with some of their allies should take Lorraine and Alsace from France. You might call me ‘l’Abbe de St. Pierre’; but I’m just expressing what I wish, while he believed everything he wished was doable.
Now to come home. Here are great bustles at Court, and a great change of persons is certainly very near. You will ask me, perhaps, who is to be out, and who is to be in? To which I answer, I do not know. My conjecture is that, be the new settlement what it will, Mr. Pitt will be at the head of it. If he is, I presume, ‘qu’il aura mis de l’eau dans son vin par rapport a Mylord B——-; when that shall come to be known, as known it certainly will soon be, he may bid adieu to his popularity. A minister, as minister, is very apt to be the object of public dislike; and a favorite, as favorite, still more so. If any event of this kind happens, which (if it happens at all) I conjecture will be some time next week, you shall hear further from me.
Now to return home. There’s a lot of commotion at court, and a significant change in personnel is definitely on the horizon. You might ask who will stay and who will go. I honestly don’t know. My guess is that, whatever the new arrangement is, Mr. Pitt will be leading it. If he is, I assume he’ll have toned down his stance regarding Lord B——-; once this becomes known—and it will be known soon—he can say goodbye to his popularity. A minister often becomes the target of public dislike, and a favorite even more so. If anything like this happens, which I suspect will occur sometime next week if it does happen at all, I’ll keep you updated.
I will follow your advice, and be as well as I can next winter, though I know I shall never be free from my flying rheumatic pains, as long as I live; but whether that will be more or less, is extremely indifferent to me; in either case, God bless you!
I’ll take your advice and do my best next winter, even though I know I’ll never be free from these annoying rheumatic pains for the rest of my life. But whether it gets better or worse doesn’t really matter to me. In either case, God bless you!
LETTER CCLXXXVIII
BLACKHEATH, August 1, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The curtain was at last drawn up, the day before yesterday, and discovered the new actors, together with some of the old ones. I do not name them to you, because to-morrow’s Gazette will do it full as well as I could. Mr. Pitt, who had carte blanche given him, named everyone of them: but what would you think he named himself for? Lord Privy Seal; and (what will astonish you, as it does every mortal here) Earl of Chatham. The joke here is, that he has had A FALL UP STAIRS, and has done himself so much hurt, that he will never be able to stand upon his leg’s again. Everybody is puzzled how to account for this step; though it would not be the first time that great abilities have been duped by low cunning. But be it what it will, he is now certainly only Earl of Chatham; and no longer Mr. Pitt, in any respect whatever. Such an event, I believe, was never read nor heard of. To withdraw, in the fullness of his power and in the utmost gratification of his ambition, from the House of Commons (which procured him his power, and which could alone insure it to him), and to go into that hospital of incurables, the House of Lords, is a measure so unaccountable, that nothing but proof positive could have made me believe it: but true it is. Hans Stanley is to go Ambassador to Russia; and my nephew, Ellis, to Spain, decorated with the red riband. Lord Shelburne is your Secretary of State, which I suppose he has notified to you this post, by a circular letter. Charles Townshend has now the sole management of the House of Commons; but how long he will be content to be only Lord Chatham’s vicegerent there, is a question which I will not pretend to decide. There is one very bad sign for Lord Chatham, in his new dignity; which is, that all his enemies, without exception, rejoice at it; and all his friends are stupefied and dumbfounded. If I mistake not much, he will, in the course of a year, enjoy perfect ‘otium cum dignitate’. Enough of politics.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The curtain finally went up the day before yesterday, revealing the new actors along with some familiar faces. I won’t name them, as tomorrow’s Gazette will cover it just as well as I could. Mr. Pitt, who had complete freedom, named each one of them; but guess what? He called himself Lord Privy Seal and (which will shock you, just as it does everyone here) Earl of Chatham. The joke here is that he’s had a FALL UP STAIRS and hurt himself so badly that he’ll never be able to stand on his legs again. Everyone is confused about how to explain this move; though it wouldn’t be the first time that great talent has been outsmarted by low cunning. Whatever the reason, he is now definitely only Earl of Chatham and no longer Mr. Pitt in any way. Such an event, I believe, has never been read or heard of. To step back, at the height of his power and full satisfaction of his ambitions, from the House of Commons (which gave him that power and could alone guarantee it to him), and to go into the House of Lords, that hospital of incurables, is such an unexplainable decision that nothing but positive proof could have made me believe it: but it’s true. Hans Stanley is set to be Ambassador to Russia, and my nephew, Ellis, is going to Spain, decorated with the red ribbon. Lord Shelburne is your Secretary of State, which I suppose he has informed you about in this post through a circular letter. Charles Townshend now has sole management of the House of Commons; but how long he will be okay with being just Lord Chatham’s deputy there is a question I won’t pretend to answer. There is one very bad sign for Lord Chatham in his new position: all his enemies, without exception, are celebrating, while all his friends are stunned and speechless. If I’m not mistaken, he will, in the next year, enjoy perfect ‘otium cum dignitate’. Enough of politics.
Is the fair, or at least the fat, Miss C——with you still? It must be confessed that she knows the arts of courts, to be so received at Dresden, and so connived at in Leicester-fields.
Is the charming, or at least the heavyset, Miss C—— with you still? It must be admitted that she understands the ways of society, to be so well received in Dresden and so tolerated in Leicester Fields.
There never was so wet a summer as this has been, in the memory of man; we have not had one single day, since March, without some rain; but most days a great deal. I hope that does not affect your health, as great cold does; for, with all these inundations, it has not been cold. God bless you!
There has never been such a wet summer as this one in anyone's memory; we haven't had even a single day without some rain since March, and on most days it's rained a lot. I hope that hasn’t affected your health like the cold can; because despite all the flooding, it hasn’t been cold. God bless you!
LETTER CCLXXXIX
BLACKHEATH, August 14, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 30th past, and I find by it that it crossed mine upon the road, where they had no time to take notice of one another.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from the 30th yesterday, and I see that it crossed mine on the way, where they didn’t have the chance to notice each other.
The newspapers have informed you, before now, of the changes actually made; more will probably follow, but what, I am sure, I cannot tell you; and I believe nobody can, not even those who are to make them: they will, I suppose, be occasional, as people behave themselves. The causes and consequences of Mr. Pitt’s quarrel now appear in print, in a pamphlet published by Lord T———; and in a refutation of it, not by Mr. Pitt himself, I believe, but by some friend of his, and under his sanction. The former is very scurrilous and scandalous, and betrays private conversation. My Lord says, that in his last conference, he thought he had as good a right to nominate the new Ministry as Mr. Pitt, and consequently named Lord G——-, Lord L———, etc., for Cabinet Council employments; which Mr. Pitt not consenting to, Lord T——-broke up the conference, and in his wrath went to Stowe; where I presume he may remain undisturbed a great while, since Mr. Pitt will neither be willing nor able to send for him again. The pamphlet, on the part of Mr. Pitt, gives an account of his whole political life; and, in that respect, is tedious to those who were acquainted with it before; but, at the latter end, there is an article that expresses such supreme contempt of Lord T——-, and in so pretty a manner, that I suspect it to be Mr. Pitt’s own: you shall judge yourself, for I here transcribe the article: “But this I will be bold to say, that had he (Lord T——-) not fastened himself into Mr. Pitt’s train, and acquired thereby such an interest in that great man, he might have crept out of life with as little notice as he crept in; and gone off with no other degree of credit, than that of adding a single unit to the bills of mortality” I wish I could send you all the pamphlets and half-sheets that swarm here upon this occasion; but that is impossible; for every week would make a ship’s cargo. It is certain, that Mr. Pitt has, by his dignity of Earl, lost the greatest part of his popularity, especially in the city; and I believe the Opposition will be very strong, and perhaps prevail, next session, in the House of Commons; there being now nobody there who can have the authority and ascendant over them that Pitt had.
The newspapers have already told you about the changes that have happened, and more will likely come, but I can't say what they will be; I'm pretty sure nobody knows, not even the people who are making them. I guess they'll happen occasionally, depending on how people behave. The reasons and results of Mr. Pitt’s conflict are now in print, in a pamphlet published by Lord T———, and there’s also a rebuttal, not from Mr. Pitt himself, I believe, but from a friend of his with his approval. The first pamphlet is quite nasty and scandalous, revealing private conversations. My Lord claims that in their last meeting, he felt he had just as much right to appoint the new Ministry as Mr. Pitt did, so he named Lord G——-, Lord L———, and others for Cabinet positions; when Mr. Pitt didn’t agree, Lord T——- ended the meeting and angrily went off to Stowe, where I imagine he’ll stay in peace for a while since Mr. Pitt won’t want or be able to summon him again. Mr. Pitt’s pamphlet covers his entire political career, which might be boring for those familiar with it, but near the end, there’s a section that shows such intense disdain for Lord T——- in such an elegant way that I suspect it was written by Mr. Pitt himself. You can judge for yourself; I’ll share the excerpt: “But I will say boldly, that had he (Lord T——-) not attached himself to Mr. Pitt’s entourage and gained some influence with that great man, he could have exited life as unnoticed as he entered; leaving behind no more recognition than adding a single unit to the death toll.” I wish I could send you all the pamphlets and papers that are circulating about this; but that's impossible, as every week there would be enough for a shipload. It’s clear that Mr. Pitt, by becoming an Earl, has lost much of his popularity, especially in the city; and I believe the Opposition will be quite strong, and might even triumph in the next session of the House of Commons, since there’s no one there now who can command the respect and influence that Pitt had.
People tell me here, as young Harvey told you at Dresden, that I look very well; but those are words of course, which everyone says to everybody. So far is true, that I am better than at my age, and with my broken constitution, I could have expected to be. God bless you!
People here tell me, just like young Harvey told you in Dresden, that I look great; but those are just words that everyone says to everyone. The truth is, I’m doing better than expected at my age, especially with my health problems. God bless you!
LETTER CCXC
BLACKHEATH, September 12, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 27th past. I was in hopes that your course of waters this year at Baden would have given you a longer reprieve from your painful complaint. If I do not mistake, you carried over with you some of Dr. Monsey’s powders. Have you taken any of them, and have they done you any good? I know they did me a great deal. I, who pretend to some skill in physic, advise a cool regimen, and cooling medicines.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I just received your letter from the 27th of last month. I was hoping that your time at Baden this year would give you a longer break from your painful condition. If I'm not mistaken, you took some of Dr. Monsey’s powders with you. Have you tried any of them, and did they help you at all? They worked wonders for me. As someone who fancies myself knowledgeable about medicine, I recommend a cool diet and cooling treatments.
I do not wonder, that you do wonder, at Lord C——-’s conduct. If he was not outwitted into his peerage by Lord B——, his accepting it is utterly inexplicable. The instruments he has chosen for the great office, I believe, will never fit the same case. It was cruel to put such a boy as Lord G—-over the head of old Ligonier; and if I had been the former, I would have refused that commission, during the life of that honest and brave old general. All this to quiet the Duke of R——to a resignation, and to make Lord B——Lieutenant of Ireland, where, I will venture to prophesy, that he will not do. Ligonier was much pressed to give up his regiment of guards, but would by no means do it; and declared that the King might break him if he pleased, but that he would certainly not break himself.
I’m not surprised that you’re questioning Lord C——-’s actions. If he wasn’t tricked into his title by Lord B——, then his acceptance of it makes no sense at all. The people he’s picked for such important roles, I believe, just won’t fit the job. It was harsh to place someone as inexperienced as Lord G—- above the veteran Ligonier; if I were in G—-'s position, I would have turned down that role as long as that honest and brave old general was still alive. All this just to calm down the Duke of R—— so he’d resign and to make Lord B—— the Lieutenant of Ireland, where I’m willing to bet he won’t succeed. Ligonier was heavily pressured to give up his regiment of guards, but he refused entirely; he stated that the King could remove him if he wanted, but he wouldn’t do it himself.
I have no political events to inform you of; they will not be ripe till the meeting of the parliament. Immediately upon the receipt of this letter, write me one, to acquaint me how you are.
I don’t have any political updates to share with you; they won’t be ready until the parliament meets. As soon as you get this letter, send me one to let me know how you’re doing.
God bless you; and, particularly, may He send you health, for that is the greatest blessing!
God bless you; and especially, may He grant you health, because that is the greatest blessing!
LETTER CCXCI
BLACKHEATH, September 30, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, yesterday, with great pleasure, your letter of the 18th, by which I consider this last ugly bout as over; and, to prevent its return, I greatly approve of your plan for the south of France, where I recommend for your principal residence, Pezenas Toulouse, or Bordeaux; but do not be persuaded to go to Aix en Provence, which, by experience, I know to be at once the hottest and the coldest place in the world, from the ardor of the Provencal sun, and the sharpness of the Alpine winds. I also earnestly recommend to you, for your complaint upon your breast, to take, twice a-day, asses’ or (what is better mares’ milk), and that for these six months at least. Mingle turnips, as much as you can, with your diet.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from the 18th yesterday, and I was very pleased. I consider this last unpleasant situation finished; to keep it from coming back, I really like your plan for the south of France. For your main place to stay, I recommend Pezenas, Toulouse, or Bordeaux; however, don’t be convinced to go to Aix en Provence. From my experience, I know it’s both the hottest and coldest place in the world, thanks to the intense Provencal sun and the biting Alpine winds. I strongly suggest you take twice a day either donkey milk or, even better, mare's milk for your chest issue, and continue this for at least six months. Also, try to include as many turnips as possible in your diet.
I have written, as you desired, to Mr. Secretary Conway; but I will answer for it that there will be no difficulty to obtain the leave you ask.
I have written, as you asked, to Mr. Secretary Conway; but I can assure you that there will be no problem getting the permission you need.
There is no new event in the political world since my last; so God bless you!
There haven't been any new developments in the political world since my last update; so take care!
LETTER CCXCII
LONDON, October 29, 7766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter of the 17th. I am glad to hear that your breast is so much better. You will find both asses’ and mares’ milk enough in the south of France, where it was much drank when I was there. Guy Patin recommends to a patient to have no doctor but a horse, and no apothecary but an ass. As for your pains and weakness in your limbs, ‘je vous en offre autant’; I have never been free from them since my last rheumatism. I use my legs as much as I can, and you should do so too, for disuse makes them worse. I cannot now use them long at a time, because of the weakness of old age; but I contrive to get, by different snatches, at least two hours’ walking every day, either in my garden or within doors, as the weather permits. I set out to-morrow for Bath, in hopes of half repairs, for Medea’s kettle could not give me whole ones; the timbers of my wretched vessel are too much decayed to be fitted out again for use. I shall see poor Harte there, who, I am told, is in a miserable way, between some real and some imaginary distempers.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The last mail brought me your letter from the 17th. I'm glad to hear that you're feeling much better. You'll find plenty of both donkey's and mare's milk in the south of France, where it was commonly consumed when I was there. Guy Patin suggests that a patient should rely on a horse instead of a doctor and on a donkey instead of a pharmacist. As for your pains and weakness in your limbs, I can relate; I haven’t been free of them since my last bout of rheumatism. I try to use my legs as much as I can, and you should do the same, because not using them makes things worse. I can't use them for long at a time anymore because of the weakness of old age, but I manage to get at least two hours of walking in every day, either in my garden or indoors, depending on the weather. I'm heading out tomorrow for Bath, hoping to get some improvement, because Medea's kettle can't fix me completely; my poor vessel is too decayed to restore to full use. I'll see poor Harte there, who I hear is in a terrible state, suffering from both real and imagined ailments.
I send you no political news, for one reason, among others, which is that I know none. Great expectations are raised of this session, which meets the 11th of next month; but of what kind nobody knows, and consequently everybody conjectures variously. Lord Chatham comes to town to-morrow from Bath, where he has been to refit himself for the winter campaign; he has hitherto but an indifferent set of aides-decamp; and where he will find better, I do not know. Charles Townshend and he are already upon ill terms. ‘Enfin je n’y vois goutte’; and so God bless you!
I'm not sending you any political news for one simple reason: I don't have any. There's a lot of excitement about the upcoming session, which starts on the 11th of next month, but nobody knows what to expect, so everyone is guessing in different ways. Lord Chatham is coming to town tomorrow from Bath, where he has been resting up for the winter session; so far, he hasn't had very good aides-de-camp, and I have no idea where he will find better ones. He and Charles Townshend are already not getting along. 'Honestly, I can't see anything'; and so, God bless you!
LETTER CCXCIII
BATH, November 15, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have this moment received your letter of the 5th instant from Basle. I am very glad to find that your breast is relieved, though perhaps at the expense of your legs: for, if the humor be either gouty or rheumatic, it had better be in your legs than anywhere else. I have consulted Moisy, the great physician of this place, upon it; who says, that at this distance he dares not prescribe anything, as there may be such different causes for your complaint, which must be well weighed by a physician upon the spot; that is, in short, that he knows nothing of the matter. I will therefore tell you my own case, in 1732, which may be something parallel to yours. I had that year been dangerously ill of a fever in Holland; and when I was recovered of it, the febrific humor fell into my legs, and swelled them to that degree, and chiefly in the evening, that it was as painful to me as it was shocking to others. I came to England with them in this condition; and consulted Mead, Broxholme, and Arbuthnot, who none of them did me the least good; but, on the contrary, increased the swelling, by applying poultices and emollients. In this condition I remained near six months, till finding that the doctors could do me no good, I resolved to consult Palmer, the most eminent surgeon of St. Thomas’s Hospital. He immediately told me that the physicians had pursued a very wrong method, as the swelling of my legs proceeded only from a relaxation and weakness of the cutaneous vessels; and he must apply strengtheners instead of emollients. Accordingly, he ordered me to put my legs up to the knees every morning in brine from the salters, as hot as I could bear it; the brine must have had meat salted in it. I did so; and after having thus pickled my legs for about three weeks, the complaint absolutely ceased, and I have never had the least swelling in them since. After what I have said, I must caution you not to use the same remedy rashly, and without the most skillful advice you can find, where you are; for if your swelling proceeds from a gouty, or rheumatic humor, there may be great danger in applying so powerful an astringent, and perhaps REPELLANT as brine. So go piano, and not without the best advice, upon a view of the parts.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I just received your letter from Basle dated the 5th. I'm really glad to hear that your chest feels better, even if it’s at the cost of your legs—after all, if the issue is gouty or rheumatic, it’s better to have it in your legs than anywhere else. I spoke with Moisy, the top physician here, about it. He said that from this distance, he can’t recommend anything because there could be many different causes for your issue, which need to be considered by a doctor who can examine you in person; basically, he admitted he doesn’t know what to do. So, let me share my own experience from 1732, which might relate to yours. That year, I had a serious fever in Holland, and once I recovered, the fever-related issues moved to my legs, causing them to swell painfully, especially in the evenings, much to the shock of others. I came to England in that state and consulted Mead, Broxholme, and Arbuthnot, none of whom helped at all; in fact, their poultices and ointments just made the swelling worse. I suffered like this for nearly six months until I decided to see Palmer, the top surgeon at St. Thomas’s Hospital. He quickly told me that the doctors had taken the wrong approach, as the swelling in my legs was due to weak and relaxed skin vessels, and he needed to strengthen them instead of using ointments. He instructed me to soak my legs up to the knees every morning in brine from the saltworks, as hot as I could stand, using brine that had meat salted in it. I followed his advice, and after about three weeks of this treatment, the problem completely went away, and I haven't had any swelling since. However, I must warn you not to try the same remedy without getting the best advice available where you are; if your swelling is due to gouty or rheumatic issues, using such a strong astringent like brine could be very dangerous. So take it easy, and make sure you get solid advice after checking the affected areas.
I shall direct all my letters to you ‘Chez Monsieur Sarraxin’, who by his trade is, I suppose, ‘sedentaire’ at Basle, while it is not sure that you will be at any one place in the south of France. Do you know that he is a descendant of the French poet Sarrazin?
I will send all my letters to you at ‘Chez Monsieur Sarraxin,’ who I assume is based in Basle since he has a steady job, while it’s uncertain whether you’ll be in one spot in the south of France. Did you know he’s a descendant of the French poet Sarrazin?
Poor Harte, whom I frequently go to see here, out of compassion, is in a most miserable way; he has had a stroke of the palsy, which has deprived him of the use of his right leg, affected his speech a good deal, and perhaps his head a little. Such are the intermediate tributes that we are forced to pay, in some shape or other, to our wretched nature, till we pay the last great one of all. May you pay this very late, and as few intermediate tributes as possible; and so ‘jubeo te bene valere’. God bless you!
Poor Harte, whom I often visit here out of compassion, is in a terrible situation; he's had a stroke that took away the use of his right leg, impacted his speech quite a bit, and maybe even affected his mind a little. These are the burdens we must bear in various forms due to our unfortunate human condition, until we face the final one. I hope you face that final moment as late as possible and with as few burdens as you can. So, I wish you well. God bless you!
LETTER CCXCIV
BATH, December 9, 1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, two days ago, your letter of the 26th past. I am very glad that you begin to feel the good effects of the climate where you are; I know it saved my life, in 1741, when both the skillful and the unskillful gave me over. In that ramble I stayed three or four days at Nimes, where there are more remains of antiquity, I believe, than in any town in Europe, Italy excepted. What is falsely called ‘la maison quarree’, is, in my mind, the finest piece of architecture that I ever saw; and the amphitheater the clumsiest and the ugliest: if it were in England, everybody would swear it had been built by Sir John Vanbrugh.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from the 26th two days ago. I'm really glad to hear that you're starting to feel the positive effects of the climate where you are; it definitely saved my life in 1741, when both the experts and the novices had given up on me. During that trip, I spent three or four days in Nimes, which has, I believe, more ancient remains than any other town in Europe, except Italy. What is mistakenly called ‘la maison quarree’ is, in my opinion, the most impressive piece of architecture I've ever seen; and the amphitheater is the clumsiest and ugliest: if it were in England, everyone would insist it was built by Sir John Vanbrugh.
This place is now, just what you have seen it formerly; here is a great crowd of trifling and unknown people, whom I seldom frequent, in the public rooms; so that I may pass my time ‘tres uniment’, in taking the air in my post-chaise every morning, and in reading of evenings. And ‘a propos’ of the latter, I shall point out a book, which I believe will give you some pleasure; at least it gave me a great deal. I never read it before. It is ‘Reflexions sur la Poesie et la Peinture, par l’Abbee de Bos’, in two octavo volumes; and is, I suppose, to be had at every great town in France. The criticisms and the reflections are just and lively.
This place is now exactly as you've seen it before; there's a big crowd of unremarkable and unknown people, whom I rarely associate with in the public rooms. So, I spend my time quietly taking in the fresh air in my carriage every morning and reading in the evenings. Speaking of reading, I want to recommend a book that I think you’ll enjoy; it certainly brought me a lot of pleasure. I hadn’t read it before. It’s called "Reflections on Poetry and Painting" by the Abbé de Bos, in two octavo volumes, and I believe it’s available in every major town in France. The critiques and reflections are thoughtful and engaging.
It may be you expect some political news from me: but I can tell you that you will have none, for no mortal can comprehend the present state of affairs. Eight or nine people of some consequence have resigned their employments; upon which Lord C——-made overtures to the Duke of B——-and his people; but they could by no means agree, and his Grace went, the next day, full of wrath, to Woburn, so that negotiation is entirely at an end. People wait to see who Lord C——-will take in, for some he must have; even HE cannot be alone, ‘contra mundum’. Such a state of affairs, to be sure, was never seen before, in this or in any other country. When this Ministry shall be settled, it will be the sixth Ministry in six years’ time.
You might be expecting some political news from me, but I can assure you that you won’t get any, since no one can really understand what's going on right now. Eight or nine important people have stepped down from their jobs; after that, Lord C——- reached out to the Duke of B——- and his team, but they couldn't come to any agreement, and the Duke left the next day, really angry, for Woburn. So, the negotiations are completely over. Everyone is waiting to see who Lord C——- will bring on board, because he needs to include some people; even HE can’t go it alone, ‘against the world’. This situation is definitely unprecedented, both here and anywhere else. Once this new government is formed, it will be the sixth one in six years.
Poor Harte is here, and in a most miserable condition; those who wish him the best, as I do, must wish him dead. God bless you!
Poor Harte is here, and he's in such a terrible state; those who truly wish him well, like I do, must wish for his death. God bless you!
LETTER CCXCV
LONDON, February 13, 1767.
MY DEAR FRIEND: It is so long since I have had a letter from you, that I am alarmed about your health; and fear that the southern parts of France have not done so well by you as they did by me in the year 1741, when they snatched me from the jaws of death. Let me know, upon the receipt of this letter, how you are, and where you are.
MY DEAR FRIEND: It's been so long since I received a letter from you that I'm worried about your health. I'm afraid that southern France hasn't treated you as well as it did me back in 1741 when it saved my life. Please let me know, as soon as you get this letter, how you are and where you are.
I have no news to send you from hence; for everything seems suspended, both in the court and in the parliament, till Lord Chatham’s return from the Bath, where he has been laid up this month, by a severe fit of the gout; and, at present, he has the sole apparent power. In what little business has hitherto been done in the House of Commons, Charles Townshend has given himself more ministerial airs than Lord Chatham will, I believe, approve of. However, since Lord Chatham has thought fit to withdraw himself from that House, he cannot well do without Charles’ abilities to manage it as his deputy.
I don’t have any news to send you from here; everything seems to be on hold, both in the court and in parliament, until Lord Chatham returns from Bath, where he’s been stuck for a month due to a bad gout attack; right now, he has the only apparent power. In the little business that’s been done in the House of Commons so far, Charles Townshend has acted more like a minister than I think Lord Chatham would approve of. However, since Lord Chatham has decided to step back from that House, he really can’t do without Charles’ skills to manage it for him.
I do not send you an account of weddings, births, and burials, as I take it for granted that you know them all from the English printed papers; some of which, I presume, are sent after you. Your old acquaintance, Lord Essex, is to be married this week to Harriet Bladen, who has L20,000 down, besides the reasonable expectation of as much at the death of her father. My kinsman, Lord Strathmore, is to be married in a fortnight, to Miss Bowes, the greatest heiress perhaps in Europe. In short, the matrimonial frenzy seems to rage at present, and is epidemical. The men marry for money, and I believe you guess what the women marry for. God bless you, and send you health!
I'm not going to update you on weddings, births, and funerals since I assume you already know about them from the English newspapers, some of which I imagine are sent to you. Your old friend, Lord Essex, is getting married this week to Harriet Bladen, who has £20,000 up front, plus the reasonable expectation of the same amount when her father passes away. My relative, Lord Strathmore, is set to marry Miss Bowes in two weeks, who is possibly the biggest heiress in Europe. In short, there seems to be a marriage craze going around. The men are marrying for money, and I’m sure you can guess what the women are after. God bless you and keep you healthy!
LETTER CCXCVI
LONDON, March 3, 1767
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received two letters at once from you, both dated Montpellier; one of the 29th of last December, and the other the 12th of February: but I cannot conceive what became of my letters to you; for, I assure you, that I answered all yours the next post after I received them; and, about ten days ago, I wrote you a volunteer, because you had been so long silent, and I was afraid that you were not well; but your letter of the 12th of February has removed all my fears upon that score. The same climate that has restored your health so far will probably, in a little more time, restore your strength too; though you must not expect it to be quite what it was before your late painful complaints. At least I find that, since my late great rheumatism, I cannot walk above half an hour at a time, which I do not place singly to the account of my years, but chiefly to the great shock given then to my limbs. ‘D’ailleurs’ I am pretty well for my age and shattered constitution.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received two letters from you at once, both dated Montpellier; one from December 29th and the other from February 12th. I can’t imagine what happened to my letters to you; I assure you I replied to all your letters the next post after I received them. About ten days ago, I sent you a note because you had been silent for so long, and I was worried you weren’t well. Your letter from February 12th has eased all my concerns about that. The same climate that has improved your health so far will likely restore your strength in time, though you shouldn’t expect it to be exactly as it was before your recent painful issues. At least, I’ve found that since my severe rheumatism, I can’t walk for more than half an hour at a time. I attribute this not just to my age, but mostly to the significant shock to my limbs back then. That said, I’m doing pretty well for my age and worn-out constitution.
As I told you in my last, I must tell you again in this, that I have no news to send. Lord Chatham, at last, came to town yesterday, full of gout, and is not able to stir hand or foot. During his absence, Charles Townshend has talked of him, and at him, in such a manner, that henceforward they must be either much worse or much better together than ever they were in their lives. On Friday last, Mr. Dowdeswell and Mr. Grenville moved to have one shilling in the pound of the land tax taken off; which was opposed by the Court; but the Court lost it by eighteen. The Opposition triumph much upon this victory; though, I think, without reason; for it is plain that all the landed gentlemen bribed themselves with this shilling in the pound.
As I mentioned in my last message, I have to repeat that I have no news to share. Lord Chatham finally arrived in town yesterday, suffering from gout, and he can hardly move. While he was away, Charles Townshend spoke about him in such a way that from now on they'll either get along much worse or much better than ever before. Last Friday, Mr. Dowdeswell and Mr. Grenville proposed to remove one shilling from the pound of the land tax, which the Court opposed, but the Court ended up losing by eighteen votes. The Opposition is celebrating this win, but I think it's unwarranted since it's clear that all the landowners were essentially bribed with that shilling.
The Duke of Buccleugh is very soon to be married to Lady Betty Montague. Lord Essex was married yesterday, to Harriet Bladen; and Lord Strathmore, last week, to Miss Bowes; both couples went directly from the church to consummation in the country, from an unnecessary fear that they should not be tired of each other if they stayed in town. And now ‘dixi’; God bless you!
The Duke of Buccleugh is soon going to marry Lady Betty Montague. Lord Essex got married yesterday to Harriet Bladen, and Lord Strathmore tied the knot last week with Miss Bowes; both couples went straight from the church to the countryside for their honeymoon, worried that they might get bored with each other if they stayed in the city. And now I’ve said my piece; God bless you!
You are in the right to go to see the assembly of the states of, Languedoc, though they are but the shadow of the original Etats, while there was some liberty subsisting in France.
You have the right to attend the assembly of the states of Languedoc, even though they are just a shadow of the original Etats, when there was still some freedom in France.
LETTER CCXCVII
LONDON, April 6, 1767.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter from Nimes, by which I find that several of our letters have reciprocally miscarried. This may probably have the same fate; however, if it reaches Monsieur Sarrazin, I presume he will know where to take his aim at you; for I find you are in motion, and with a polarity to Dresden. I am very glad to find by it, that your meridional journey has perfectly recovered you, as to your general state of health; for as to your legs and thighs, you must never expect that they will be restored to their original strength and activity, after so many rheumatic attacks as you have had. I know that my limbs, besides the natural debility of old age, have never recovered the severe attack of rheumatism that plagued me five or six years ago. I cannot now walk above half an hour at a time and even that in a hobbling kind of way.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I got your letter from Nimes, and I see that several of our letters have been lost. This one might end up the same way; however, if it gets to Monsieur Sarrazin, I believe he’ll know how to reach you since I see you're on the move, heading towards Dresden. I'm really glad to find that your journey to the south has helped you recover your overall health; as for your legs and thighs, you shouldn't expect them to regain their original strength and activity after all the rheumatic attacks you've had. I know that my limbs, along with the natural weakness of old age, have never bounced back from the severe rheumatism I dealt with five or six years ago. I can only walk for about half an hour at a time, and even then I do so in a bit of a shuffling way.
I can give you no account of our political world, which is in a situation that I never saw in my whole life. Lord Chatham has been so ill, these last two months, that he has not been able (some say not willing) to do or hear of any business, and for his ‘sous Ministres’, they either cannot, or dare not, do any, without his directions; so everything is now at a stand. This situation, I think, cannot last much longer, and if Lord Chatham should either quit his post, or the world, neither of which is very improbable, I conjecture, that which is called the Rockingham Connection stands the fairest for the Ministry. But this is merely my conjecture, for I have neither ‘data’ nor ‘postulata’ enough to reason upon.
I can’t give you any updates on our political world, which is in a state I've never witnessed before. Lord Chatham has been so sick for the past two months that he hasn’t been able (some say he hasn’t wanted) to handle any business, and his subordinates either can’t or won’t do anything without his guidance; so everything is currently at a standstill. I don’t think this situation can last much longer, and if Lord Chatham were to either resign or pass away—both of which are quite likely—I believe what’s referred to as the Rockingham Connection would have the best chance for the Ministry. But that’s just my guess, as I don’t have enough evidence or data to draw any conclusions.
When you get to Dresden, which I hope you will not do till next month, our correspondence will be more regular. God bless you!
When you arrive in Dresden, which I hope isn't until next month, we can keep in touch more regularly. Take care!
LETTER CCXCVIII
LONDON, May 5, 1767,
MY DEAR FRIEND: By your letter of the 25th past, from Basle, I presume this will find you at Dresden, and accordingly I direct to you there. When you write me word that you are at Dresden, I will return you an answer, with something better than the answer itself.
MY DEAR FRIEND: From your letter dated the 25th from Basle, I assume this will reach you in Dresden, so I'm addressing it there. When you let me know that you're in Dresden, I’ll send you a reply along with something even better than just a response.
If you complain of the weather, north of Besancon, what would you say to the weather that we have had here for these last two months, uninterruptedly? Snow often, northeast wind constantly, and extreme cold. I write this by the side of a good fire; and at this moment it snows very hard. All my promised fruit at Blackheath is quite destroyed; and, what is worse, many of my trees.
If you complain about the weather north of Besancon, what would you say about the weather we've had here for the last two months, without interruption? Snow often, a constant northeast wind, and extreme cold. I'm writing this by a nice fire; and right now, it's snowing heavily. All my expected fruit at Blackheath is completely ruined; and, what's worse, many of my trees are too.
I cannot help thinking that the King of Poland, the Empress of Russia, and the King of Prussia, ‘s’entendent comme larrons en foire’, though the former must not appear in it upon account of the stupidity, ignorance, and bigotry of his Poles. I have a great opinion of the cogency of the controversial arguments of the Russian troops, in favor of the Dissidents: I am sure I wish them success; for I would have all intoleration intolerated in its turn. We shall soon see more clearly into this matter; for I do not think that the Autocratrice of all the Russias will be trifled with by the Sarmatians.
I can't help but think that the King of Poland, the Empress of Russia, and the King of Prussia are in cahoots, even though the King can't be openly involved because of the stupidity, ignorance, and bigotry of his Polish subjects. I have a high regard for the strong arguments made by the Russian troops in support of the Dissidents. I truly hope they succeed because I want all forms of intolerance to be challenged in return. We'll soon have a clearer understanding of this situation; I don't believe the Empress of all Russia will allow the Sarmatians to mess around with her.
What do you think of the late extraordinary event in Spain? Could you have ever imagined that those ignorant Goths would have dared to banish the Jesuits? There must have been some very grave and important reasons for so extraordinary a measure: but what they were I do not pretend to guess; and perhaps I shall never know, though all the coffeehouses here do.
What do you think about the recent unbelievable event in Spain? Could you have ever imagined that those clueless Goths would actually go so far as to kick out the Jesuits? There must have been some really serious and significant reasons for such a drastic action: but what they were, I won’t try to guess; and maybe I’ll never find out, even though everyone at the coffeehouses here seems to know.
Things are here in exactly the same situation, in which they were when I wrote to you last. Lord Chatham is still ill, and only goes abroad for an hour in a day, to take the air, in his coach. The King has, to my certain knowledge, sent him repeated messages, desiring him not to be concerned at his confinement, for that he is resolved to support him, ‘pour et contre tous’. God bless you!
Things are still just as they were when I wrote to you last. Lord Chatham is still unwell and only goes out for about an hour each day to get some fresh air in his coach. I know for sure that the King has sent him several messages, telling him not to worry about being confined because he is determined to support him, "for better or worse." God bless you!
LETTER CCXCIX
LONDON, June 1, 1767.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received yesterday your letter of the 20th past, from Dresden, where I am glad to find that you are arrived safe and sound. This has been everywhere an ‘annus mirabilis’ for bad weather, and it continues here still. Everybody has fires, and their winter clothes, as at Christmas. The town is extremely sickly; and sudden deaths have been very frequent.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I got your letter from the 20th yesterday, sent from Dresden, and I'm glad to hear you arrived safe and sound. This year has been a remarkable one for bad weather everywhere, and it’s still the same here. Everyone has their fires going and is in their winter clothes, just like at Christmas. The town is really unhealthy, and there have been a lot of sudden deaths.
I do not know what to say to you upon public matters; things remain in ‘statu quo’, and nothing is done. Great changes are talked of, and, I believe, will happen soon, perhaps next week; but who is to be changed, for whom, I do not know, though everybody else does. I am apt to think that it will be a mosaic Ministry, made up ‘de pieces rapportees’ from different connections.
I don't know what to say about public issues; things are still the same, and nothing is changing. Big changes are being discussed, and I believe they will happen soon, maybe next week; but I don't know who will be changed or for whom, even though everyone else seems to. I'm inclined to think it will be a coalition Ministry, made up of different parts from various groups.
Last Friday I sent your subsidy to Mr. Larpent, who, I suppose, has given you notice of it. I believe it will come very seasonably, as all places, both foreign and domestic, are so far in arrears. They talk of paying you all up to Christmas. The King’s inferior servants are almost starving.
Last Friday, I sent your payment to Mr. Larpent, who I assume has informed you about it. I believe it will be sent at just the right time since all locations, both abroad and at home, are pretty far behind on payments. They’re saying they’ll pay you everything owed by Christmas. The King’s lower-ranking servants are nearly starving.
I suppose you have already heard, at Dresden, that Count Bruhl is either actually married, or very soon to be so, to Lady Egremont. She has, together with her salary as Lady of the Bed-chamber, L2,500 a year, besides ten thousand pounds in money left her, at her own disposal, by Lord Egremont. All this will sound great ‘en ecus d’Allemagne’. I am glad of it, for he is a very pretty man. God bless you!
I guess you've already heard in Dresden that Count Bruhl is either already married or going to be married soon to Lady Egremont. She earns £2,500 a year as Lady of the Bedchamber, plus she has £10,000 in cash that Lord Egremont left her to use as she pleases. All this will sound impressive "in German crowns." I'm happy about it because he's a really handsome guy. Take care!
I easily conceive why Orloff influences the Empress of all the Russias; but I cannot see why the King of Prussia should be influenced by that motive.
I can easily understand why Orloff has an influence over the Empress of all the Russias; but I can't see why the King of Prussia would be swayed by that reason.
LETTER CCC
BLACKHEATH, JULY 2, 1767.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Though I have had no letter from you since my last, and though I have no political news to inform you of, I write this to acquaint you with a piece of Greenwich news, which I believe you will be very glad of; I am sure I am. Know then that your friend Miss——-was happily married, three days ago, to Mr.———-, an Irish gentleman, and a member of that parliament, with an estate of above L2,000 a-year. He settles upon her L600 jointure, and in case they have no children, L1,500. He happened to be by chance in her company one day here, and was at once shot dead by her charms; but as dead men sometimes walk, he walked to her the next morning, and tendered her his person and his fortune; both which, taking the one with the other, she very prudently accepted, for his person is sixty years old.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Although I haven't received a letter from you since my last one, and I have no political updates to share, I'm writing to let you know some news from Greenwich that I think you'll be very pleased to hear; I certainly am. So, know that your friend Miss——- was happily married three days ago to Mr.———-, an Irish gentleman and a member of parliament, with an estate of over £2,000 a year. He has settled £600 as her jointure, and in case they don't have children, £1,500. He happened to be in her company one day and was immediately captivated by her charms; but as is sometimes the case, he came back to her the next morning and offered her his love and his fortune, both of which she wisely accepted since he is sixty years old.
Ministerial affairs are still in the same ridiculous and doubtful situation as when I wrote to you last. Lord Chatham will neither hear of, nor do any business, but lives at Hampstead, and rides about the heath. His gout is said to be fallen upon his nerves. Your provincial secretary, Conway, quits this week, and returns to the army, for which he languished. Two Lords are talked of to succeed him; Lord Egmont and Lord Hillsborough: I rather hope the latter. Lord Northington certainly quits this week; but nobody guesses who is to succeed him as President. A thousand other changes are talked of, which I neither believe nor reject.
Ministerial affairs are still in the same ridiculous and uncertain state as when I last wrote to you. Lord Chatham won’t listen or do any work; he just stays at Hampstead and rides around the heath. People say his gout has affected his nerves. Your provincial secretary, Conway, is leaving this week to return to the army, which he’s been eager to do. There’s talk about two Lords to replace him: Lord Egmont and Lord Hillsborough; I’m actually leaning toward the latter. Lord Northington is definitely leaving this week, but no one knows who will take over as President. There are a thousand other changes being discussed, which I don’t fully believe or dismiss.
Poor Harte is in a most miserable condition: He has lost one side of himself, and in a great measure his speech; notwithstanding which, he is going to publish his DIVINE POEMS, as he calls them. I am sorry for it, as he had not time to correct them before this stroke, nor abilities to do it since. God bless you!
Poor Harte is in a really unfortunate state: He has lost part of himself and, to a large extent, his ability to speak; despite that, he plans to publish his DIVINE POEMS, as he refers to them. I feel bad about this, as he didn’t have time to edit them before this happened, nor the ability to do so afterward. God bless you!
LETTER CCCI
BLACKHEATH, July 9, 1767.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have received yours of the 21st past, with the inclosed proposal from the French ‘refugies, for a subscription toward building them ‘un temple’. I have shown it to the very few people I see, but without the least success. They told me (and with too much truth) that while such numbers of poor were literally starving here from the dearness of all provisions, they could not think of sending their money into another country, for a building which they reckoned useless. In truth, I never knew such misery as is here now; and it affects both the hearts and the purses of those who have either; for my own part, I never gave to a building in my life; which I reckon is only giving to masons and carpenters, and the treasurer of the undertaking.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from the 21st of last month, along with the proposal from the French refugees for a donation to build them a 'temple.' I've shown it to the very few people I meet, but it hasn't gone well at all. They told me (and it's unfortunately true) that with so many poor people literally starving here because of the high cost of food, they can’t justify sending their money to another country for a building they view as unnecessary. Honestly, I've never seen such suffering as there is now; it touches both the hearts and the wallets of those who have either. For my part, I've never donated to a building in my life; I see it as just giving to masons and carpenters, and the person managing the project.
Contrary to the expectations of all mankind here, everything still continues in ‘statu quo’. General Conway has been desired by the King to keep the seals till he has found a successor for him, and the Lord President the same. Lord Chatham is relapsed, and worse than ever: he sees nobody, and nobody sees him: it is said that a bungling physician has checked his gout, and thrown it upon his nerves; which is the worst distemper that a minister or a lover can have, as it debilitates the mind of the former and the body of the latter. Here is at present an interregnum. We must soon see what order will be produced from this chaos.
Contrary to everyone's expectations, everything is still the same. General Conway has been asked by the King to hold the seals until he finds a successor, and the same goes for the Lord President. Lord Chatham has relapsed and is worse than ever: he’s avoiding everyone, and no one sees him. It’s rumored that an incompetent doctor has managed to ease his gout, but it’s now affecting his nerves, which is the worst thing for a minister or a lover, as it weakens the mind in the former and the body in the latter. Right now, we’re in a period of uncertainty. We’ll soon find out what order will emerge from this chaos.
The Electorate, I believe, will find the want of Comte Flemming; for he certainly had abilities, and was as sturdy and inexorable as a Minister at the head of the finances ought always to be. When you see Comtesse Flemming, which I suppose cannot be for some time, pray make her Lady Chesterfield’s and my compliments of condolence.
The Electorate will definitely miss Comte Flemming; he definitely had talent and was as strong and relentless as a Minister in charge of finances should always be. When you see Comtesse Flemming, which I assume won't be for a while, please send her my and Lady Chesterfield’s condolences.
You say that Dresden is very sickly; I am sure London is at least as sickly now, for there reigns an epidemical distemper, called by the genteel name of ‘l’influenza’. It is a little fever, of which scarcely anybody dies; and it generally goes off with a little looseness. I have escaped it, I believe, by being here. God keep you from all distempers, and bless you!
You say that Dresden is really unwell; I'm pretty sure London is just as unhealthy right now because there’s an outbreak called 'the flu.' It’s a mild fever that hardly anyone dies from, and it usually ends with a bit of diarrhea. I think I’ve avoided it by being here. May God protect you from all illnesses and bless you!
LETTER CCCII
LONDON, October 30, 1767.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now left Blackheath, till the next summer, if I live till then; and am just able to write, which is all I can say, for I am extremely weak, and have in a great measure lost the use of my legs; I hope they will recover both flesh and strength, for at present they have neither. I go to the Bath next week, in hopes of half repairs at most; for those waters, I am sure, will not prove Medea’s kettle, nor ‘les eaux de Jouvence’ to me; however, I shall do as good courtiers do, and get what I can, if I cannot get what I will. I send you no politics, for here are neither politics nor ministers; Lord Chatham is quiet at Pynsent, in Somersetshire, and his former subalterns do nothing, so that nothing is done. Whatever places or preferments are disposed of, come evidently from Lord———-, who affects to be invisible; and who, like a woodcock, thinks that if his head is but hid, he is not seen at all.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I have now left Blackheath until next summer, if I make it that long; and I can just manage to write, which is all I can say, because I am very weak and have mostly lost the use of my legs. I hope they will regain both muscle and strength, since right now they have neither. I’m going to Bath next week, hoping for at least a little improvement; those waters, I’m sure, won’t work any magic for me. Still, I’ll do as good courtiers do and take what I can get, even if it’s not what I want. I’m not sending you any news about politics because there’s none to share; Lord Chatham is quiet at Pynsent in Somersetshire, and his former subordinates aren’t doing anything, so nothing is getting done. Any appointments or promotions are clearly coming from Lord———-, who likes to remain invisible and thinks that if his head is hidden, he’s not seen at all.
General Pulteney is at last dead, last week, worth above thirteen hundred thousand pounds. He has left all his landed estate, which is eight and twenty thousand pounds a-year, including the Bradford estate, which his brother had from that ancient family, to a cousin-german. He has left two hundred thousand pounds, in the funds, to Lord Darlington, who was his next nearest relation; and at least twenty thousand pounds in various legacies. If riches alone could make people happy, the last two proprietors of this immense wealth ought to have been so, but they never were.
General Pulteney has finally passed away last week, leaving behind more than thirteen hundred thousand pounds. He bequeathed all his land, which brings in about twenty-eight thousand pounds a year, including the Bradford estate that his brother inherited from that ancient family, to a cousin. He left two hundred thousand pounds in investments to Lord Darlington, his next closest relative, along with at least twenty thousand pounds in various legacies. If wealth alone could bring happiness, the last two owners of this vast fortune should have been happy, but they never were.
God bless you, and send you good health, which is better than all the riches of the world!
God bless you and grant you good health, which is better than all the wealth in the world!
LETTER CCCIII
LONDON, November 3, 1767.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last letter brought me but a scurvy account of your health. For the headaches you complain of, I will venture to prescribe a remedy, which, by experience, I found a specific, when I was extremely plagued with them. It is either to chew ten grains of rhubarb every night going to bed: or, what I think rather better, to take, immediately before dinner, a couple of rhubarb pills, of five grains each; by which means it mixes with the aliments, and will, by degrees, keep your body gently open. I do it to this day, and find great good by it. As you seem to dread the approach of a German winter, I would advise you to write to General Conway, for leave of absence for the three rigorous winter months, which I dare say will not be refused. If you choose a worse climate, you may come to London; but if you choose a better and a warmer, you may go to Nice en Provence, where Sir William Stanhope is gone to pass his winter, who, I am sure, will be extremely glad of your company there.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Your last letter gave me a disappointing update on your health. For the headaches you're experiencing, I’d like to suggest a remedy that worked for me when I was really suffering from them. You can either chew ten grains of rhubarb every night before bed, or, which I think is better, take a couple of rhubarb pills, five grains each, right before dinner. This way, it mixes with your food and will help keep your system gently regulated over time. I still do this and find it very beneficial. Since you seem to be worried about facing a German winter, I recommend you ask General Conway for permission to be absent for the three harsh winter months, which I’m sure he will grant. If you prefer a worse climate, you can come to London; but if you want a better, warmer place, you could go to Nice in Provence, where Sir William Stanhope is heading to spend his winter, and I’m sure he would be very happy to have your company there.
I go to the Bath next Saturday. ‘Utinam de frustra’. God bless you!
I’m going to the Bath next Saturday. “Hopefully not in vain.” Take care!
LETTER CCCIV
BATH, September 19, 1767.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I received your letter of the 29th past, and am very glad to find that you are well enough to think that you may perhaps stand the winter at Dresden; but if you do, pray take care to keep both your body and your limbs exceedingly warm.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Yesterday I got your letter from the 29th, and I'm very happy to hear that you’re well enough to consider staying the winter in Dresden; but if you do, please make sure to keep both your body and your limbs really warm.
As to my own health, it is, in general, as good as I could expect it, at my age; I have a good stomach, a good digestion, and sleep well; but find that I shall never recover the free use of my legs, which are now full as weak as when I first came hither.
As for my health, overall, it's as good as I could hope for at my age; I have a good appetite, digest well, and sleep soundly; however, I've realized that I'll never regain full use of my legs, which are just as weak now as when I first arrived here.
You ask me questions concerning Lord C———, which neither I, nor, I believe, anybody but himself can answer; however, I will tell you all that I do know, and all that I guess, concerning him. This time twelvemonth he was here, and in good health and spirits, except now and then some little twinges of the gout. We saw one another four or five times, at our respective houses; but for these last eight months, he has been absolutely invisible to his most intimate friends, ‘les sous Ministres’: he would receive no letters, nor so much as open any packet about business.
You’re asking me questions about Lord C———, which I don't think anyone other than him can really answer. Still, I’ll share everything I know and what I can guess about him. This time last year, he was here and in good health and spirits, aside from the occasional twinges of gout. We saw each other four or five times at our homes, but for the last eight months, he’s been completely out of sight even to his closest friends, 'les sous Ministres.' He wouldn’t accept any letters or even open any packages related to business.
His physician, Dr.——-, as I am told, had, very ignorantly, checked a coming fit of the gout, and scattered it about his body; and it fell particularly upon his nerves, so that he continues exceedingly vaporish; and would neither see nor speak to anybody while he was here. I sent him my compliments, and asked leave to wait upon him; but he sent me word that he was too ill to see anybody whatsoever. I met him frequently taking the air in his post-chaise, and he looked very well. He set out from hence for London last Tuesday; but what to do, whether to resume, or finally to resign the Administration, God knows; conjectures are various. In one of our conversations here, this time twelvemonth, I desired him to secure you a seat in the new parliament; he assured me that he would, and, I am convinced, very sincerely; he said even that he would make it his own affair; and desired that I would give myself no more trouble about it. Since that, I have heard no more of it; which made me look out for some venal borough and I spoke to a borough-jobber, and offered five-and-twenty hundred pounds for a secure seat in parliament; but he laughed at my offer, and said that there was no such thing as a borough to be had now, for that the rich East and West Indians had secured them all, at the rate of three thousand pounds at least; but many at four thousand, and two or three that he knew, at five thousand. This, I confess, has vexed me a good deal; and made me the more impatient to know whether Lord C—-had done anything in it; which I shall know when I go to town, as I propose to do in about a fortnight; and as soon as I know it you shall. To tell you truly what I think—I doubt, from all this NERVOUS DISORDER that Lord C——-is hors de combat, as a Minister; but do not ever hint this to anybody. God bless you!
His doctor, Dr.——-, apparently made the mistake of trying to prevent an upcoming gout attack and ended up spreading it throughout his body. As a result, it mainly affected his nerves, leaving him extremely anxious and unwilling to see or talk to anyone while he was here. I sent him my regards and asked if I could visit him, but he replied that he was too ill to see anyone at all. I often saw him taking fresh air in his carriage, and he seemed to look just fine. He left for London last Tuesday, but I have no idea what his plans are—whether he intends to take up the administration again or step down for good. It's all speculation. In one of our conversations this time last year, I asked him to make sure you had a seat in the new parliament; he assured me he would, and I believe he meant it sincerely. He even said he would take it upon himself and asked me not to worry about it anymore. Since then, I haven’t heard anything else about it, which prompted me to look for a purchasable borough. I spoke to someone who deals in borough seats and offered twenty-five hundred pounds for a secured seat in parliament, but he just laughed at my offer, saying there were no seats available anymore because the wealthy East and West Indians had bought them all at prices starting around three thousand pounds, with many going for four thousand, and a few he knew of going for five thousand. Honestly, that’s been quite frustrating and has made me more eager to find out if Lord C—- has made any progress on this, which I should learn when I go to town, as I plan to in about two weeks. As soon as I find out, you’ll be the first to know. To be honest, I suspect that all this anxiety means Lord C——- is out of the running as a minister, but please don’t mention this to anyone. God bless you!
LETTER CC
BATH, December 27, 1767. ‘En nova progenies’!
MY DEAR FRIEND: The outlines of a new Ministry are now declared, but they are not yet quite filled up; it was formed by the Duke of Bedford. Lord Gower is made President of the Council, Lord Sandwich, Postmaster, Lord Hillsborough, Secretary of State for America only, Mr. Rigby, Vice-treasurer of Ireland. General Canway is to keep the seals a fortnight longer, and then to surrender them to Lord Weymouth. It is very uncertain whether the Duke of Grafton is to continue at the head of the Treasury or not; but, in my private opinion, George Grenville will very soon be there. Lord Chatham seems to be out of the question, and is at his repurchased house at Hayes, where he will not see a mortal. It is yet uncertain whether Lord Shelburne is to keep his place; if not, Lord Sandwich they say is to succeed him. All the Rockingham people are absolutely excluded. Many more changes must necessarily be, but no more are yet declared. It seems to be a resolution taken by somebody that Ministers are to be annual.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The outlines of a new Ministry have now been announced, but they are not yet fully filled in; it was formed by the Duke of Bedford. Lord Gower has been appointed President of the Council, Lord Sandwich is now the Postmaster, Lord Hillsborough is the Secretary of State for America only, and Mr. Rigby is the Vice-treasurer of Ireland. General Canway will hold the seals for another two weeks, after which he will hand them over to Lord Weymouth. It’s still uncertain whether the Duke of Grafton will remain at the head of the Treasury; however, in my opinion, George Grenville will likely take that position soon. Lord Chatham seems to be out of the picture and is at his house in Hayes, where he won’t see anyone. It’s also unclear whether Lord Shelburne will keep his position; if not, they say Lord Sandwich will take over. All the Rockingham supporters are completely excluded. Many more changes are bound to happen, but none have been announced yet. It seems that a decision has been made by someone that Ministers will be appointed annually.
Sir George Macartney is next week to be married to Lady Jane Stuart, Lord Bute’s second daughter.
Sir George Macartney is getting married next week to Lady Jane Stuart, Lord Bute’s second daughter.
I never knew it so cold in my life as it is now, and with a very deep snow; by which, if it continues, I may be snow-bound here for God knows how long, though I proposed leaving this place the latter end of the week.
I’ve never felt it this cold in my life as it is now, and there's so much snow; if it keeps up, I might be stuck here for who knows how long, even though I planned to leave this place by the end of the week.
Poor Harte is very ill here; he mentions you often, and with great affection. God bless you!
Poor Harte is really sick here; he talks about you a lot and with a lot of love. God bless you!
When I know more you shall.
When I know more, I'll let you know.
LETTER CCCVI
LONDON, January 29, 1768.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Two days ago I received your letter of the 8th. I wish you had gone a month or six weeks sooner to Basle, that you might have escaped the excessive cold of the most severe winter that I believe was ever known. It congealed both my body and my mind, and scarcely left me the power of thinking. A great many here, both in town and country, have perished by the frost, and been lost in the snow.
MY DEAR FRIEND: Two days ago, I got your letter from the 8th. I wish you had gone to Basle a month or six weeks earlier so you could have missed the extreme cold of this winter, which I believe is the harshest we’ve ever seen. It froze both my body and my mind, barely leaving me the ability to think. A lot of people here, both in the city and the countryside, have died from the frost and gotten lost in the snow.
You have heard, no doubt, of the changes at Court, by which you have got a new provincial, Lord Weymouth; who has certainly good parts, and, as I am informed, speaks very well in the House of Lords; but I believe he has no application. Lord Chatham is at his house at Hayes; but sees no mortal. Some say that he has a fit of the gout, which would probably do him good; but many think that his worst complaint is in his head, which I am afraid is too true. Were he well, I am sure he would realize the promise he made me concerning you; but, however, in that uncertainty, I am looking out for any chance borough; and if I can find one, I promise you I will bid like a chapman for it, as I should be very sorry that you were not in the next parliament. I do not see any probability of any vacancy in a foreign commission in a better climate; Mr. Hamilton at Naples, Sir Horace Mann at Florence, and George Pitt at Turin, do not seem likely to make one. And as for changing your foreign department for a domestic one, it would not be in my power to procure you one; and you would become ‘d’eveque munier’, and gain nothing in point of climate, by changing a bad one for another full as bad, if not worse; and a worse I believe is not than ours. I have always had better health abroad than at home; and if the tattered remnant of my wretched life were worth my care, I would have been in the south of France long ago. I continue very lame and weak, and despair of ever recovering any strength in my legs. I care very little about it. At my age every man must have his share of physical ills of one kind or another; and mine, thank God, are not very painful. God bless you!
You've probably heard about the changes at Court, which brought you a new provincial, Lord Weymouth. He has some good qualities and, from what I've heard, speaks very well in the House of Lords, but I don’t think he puts in much effort. Lord Chatham is at his house in Hayes but doesn’t see anyone. Some say he’s dealing with gout, which might actually help him, but many believe his biggest issue is his mind, which I fear is true. If he were well, I’m sure he would follow through on the promise he made me about you; however, in that uncertainty, I'm keeping an eye out for any available borough. If I find one, I promise I'll bid on it like a trader because I would hate for you not to be in the next parliament. I don’t see any chance of a vacancy in a foreign commission in a better climate; Mr. Hamilton in Naples, Sir Horace Mann in Florence, and George Pitt in Turin don’t seem likely to leave. As for switching your foreign department for a domestic role, I wouldn't be able to help you with that. You’d end up being 'd’eveque munier' and wouldn’t gain anything in terms of climate by swapping one bad situation for another that’s just as bad, if not worse; and I believe ours is the worst. I've always had better health abroad than at home, and if the tattered remnants of my unfortunate life were worth my care, I’d have been in the south of France long ago. I remain very lame and weak and doubt I'll ever regain strength in my legs. I don't care much about it. At my age, everyone has to deal with some physical issues, and thankfully, mine are not too painful. God bless you!
LETTER CCCVII
LONDON, March 12, 1768.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The day after I received your letter of the 21st past, I wrote to Lord Weymouth, as you desired; and I send you his answer inclosed, from which (though I have not heard from him since) I take it for granted, and so may you, that his silence signifies his Majesty’s consent to your request. Your complicated complaints give me great uneasiness, and the more, as I am convinced that the Montpellier physicians have mistaken a material part of your case; as indeed all the physicians here did, except Dr. Maty. In my opinion, you have no gout, but a very scorbutic and rheumatic habit of body, which should be treated in a very different manner from the gout; and, as I pretend to be a very good quack at least, I would prescribe to you a strict milk diet, with the seeds, such as rice, sago, barley, millet, etc., for the three summer months at least, and without ever tasting wine. If climate signifies anything (in which, by the way, I have very little faith), you are, in my mind, in the finest climate in the world; neither too hot nor too cold, and always clear; you are with the gayest people living; be gay with them, and do not wear out your eyes with reading at home. ‘L’ennui’ is the English distemper: and a very bad one it is, as I find by every day’s experience; for my deafness deprives me of the only rational pleasure that I can have at my age, which is society; so that I read my eyes out every day, that I may not hang myself.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The day after I received your letter from the 21st, I wrote to Lord Weymouth as you asked, and I’m sending you his reply enclosed. Although I haven’t heard back from him since, I assume, and you should too, that his silence means the King's agreement to your request. Your complicated issues concern me greatly, especially since I believe the Montpellier doctors misunderstood a key part of your condition; in fact, all the doctors here did too, except for Dr. Maty. In my opinion, you don’t have gout, but rather a very scurvy and rheumatic constitution, which should be treated quite differently from gout. Since I fancy myself a decent quack, I’d recommend you stick to a strict milk diet along with seeds like rice, sago, barley, millet, etc., for at least the three summer months, and avoid wine entirely. If climate matters at all (which I really doubt), I think you’re in the best climate in the world; not too hot or too cold, and always clear. You’re surrounded by the liveliest people, so be cheerful with them and don’t strain your eyes by reading at home. ‘L’ennui’ is the English illness, and a very serious one at that, as I realize every day; my deafness robs me of the one rational pleasure I can have at my age, which is companionship, so I read excessively to avoid feeling trapped.
You will not be in this parliament, at least not at the beginning of it. I relied too much upon Lord C——-’s promise above a year ago at Bath. He desired that I would leave it to him; that he would make it his own affair, and give it in charge to the Duke of G——, whose province it was to make the parliamentary arrangement. This I depended upon, and I think with reason; but, since that, Lord C has neither seen nor spoken to anybody, and has been in the oddest way in the world. I have sent to the D——-of G———, to know if L——-C——had either spoken or sent to him about it; but he assured me that he had done neither; that all was full, or rather running over, at present; but that, if he could crowd you in upon a vacancy, he would do it with great pleasure. I am extremely sorry for this accident; for I am of a very different opinion from you, about being in parliament, as no man can be of consequence in this country, who is not in it; and, though one may not speak like a Lord Mansfield or a Lord Chatham, one may make a very good figure in a second rank. ‘Locus est et pluribus umbris’. I do not pretend to give you any account of the present state of this country, or Ministry, not knowing nor guessing it myself.
You won’t be in this parliament, at least not at the start. I relied too much on Lord C——-’s promise over a year ago in Bath. He wanted me to trust him to handle it; he said he would take care of it and pass it on to the Duke of G——, who was responsible for the parliamentary arrangements. I counted on that, and I think I had good reason to, but since then, Lord C hasn’t seen or spoken to anyone and has been acting in the strangest way. I reached out to the Duke of G—— to see if Lord C had mentioned or contacted him about this, but he assured me that he hadn’t; that everything is full, or rather overflowing, right now; however, if he could squeeze you in for a vacancy, he would be very happy to do so. I'm really sorry about this situation because I have a very different view from you about being in parliament—no one can be influential in this country who isn’t in it; and even if one can't speak like Lord Mansfield or Lord Chatham, one can still make a strong impression in a secondary role. "There is room for many shadows." I don’t pretend to know or be able to explain the current state of this country or the government, as I have no idea about it myself.
God bless you, and send you health, which is the first and greatest of all blessings!
God bless you and grant you good health, which is the most important of all blessings!
LETTER CCCVIII
LONDON, March 15, 1768.
MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter is supplemental to my last. This morning Lord Weymouth very civilly sent Mr. Wood, his first ‘commis’, to tell me that the King very willingly gave you leave of absence from your post for a year, for the recovery of your health; but then added, that as the Court of Vienna was tampering with that of Saxony, which it seems our Court is desirous to ‘contrequarrer’, it might be necessary to have in the interim a ‘Charge d’Affaires’ at Dresden, with a defalcation out of your appointments of forty shillings a-day, till your return, if I would agree to it. I told him that I consented to both the proposals, upon condition that at your return you should have the character and the pay of Plenipotentiary added to your present character and pay; and that I would completely make up to you the defalcation of the forty shillings a-day. He positively engaged for it: and added, that he knew that it would be willingly agreed to. Thus I think I have made a good bargain for you, though but an indifferent one for myself: but that is what I never minded in my life. You may, therefore, depend upon receiving from me the full of this defalcation, when and how you please, independently of your usual annual refreshment, which I will pay to Monsieur Larpent, whenever you desire it. In the meantime, ‘Cura ut valeas’.
MY DEAR FRIEND: This letter is a follow-up to my last one. This morning, Lord Weymouth kindly sent Mr. Wood, his first assistant, to tell me that the King has happily granted you a year's leave from your post to recover your health. However, he mentioned that since the Court of Vienna is interfering with Saxony, and our Court is looking to counter that, it may be necessary to have a Chargé d’Affaires in Dresden during this time, with a deduction of forty shillings a day from your salary until your return, if I agree to it. I told him that I accepted both proposals, on the condition that when you return, you will receive the title and salary of Plenipotentiary in addition to your current title and pay, and that I would fully compensate you for the forty shillings a day deducted. He assured me that he would take care of it and that it would be willingly approved. So, I think I’ve made a good deal for you, even though it’s not great for me, but that has never bothered me in my life. Therefore, you can count on receiving the full amount of this deduction from me, whenever and however you wish, separate from your usual annual allowance, which I will pay to Monsieur Larpent whenever you ask for it. In the meantime, take care of yourself.
The person whom Mr. Wood intimated to me would be the ‘Charge d’Affaires’ during your absence, is one Mr. Keith, the son of that Mr. Keith who was formerly Minister in Russia.
The person Mr. Wood told me would be the ‘Charge d’Affaires’ during your absence is Mr. Keith, the son of the former Minister in Russia, Mr. Keith.
LETTER CCCIX
LONDON, April 12, 1768.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received, yesterday, your letter of the 1st; in which you do not mention the state of your health, which I desire you will do for the future.
MY DEAR FRIEND: I received your letter from the 1st yesterday; in it, you don’t mention how your health is, which I would like you to include in the future.
I believe you have guessed the true reason of Mr. Keith’s mission; but by a whisper that I have since heard, Keith is rather inclined to go to Turin, as ‘Charge d’Affaires’. I forgot to tell you, in my last, that I was almost positively assured that the instant you return to Dresden, Keith should decamp. I am persuaded that they will keep their words with me, as there is no one reason in the world why they should not. I will send your annual to Mr. Larpent, in a fortnight, and pay the forty shillings a-day quarterly, if there should be occasion; for, in my own private opinion, there will be no ‘Charge d’Affaires’ sent. I agree with you, that ‘point d’argent, point d’Allemand’, as was used to be said, and not without more reason, of the Swiss; but, as we have neither the inclination nor I fear the power to give subsidies, the Court of Vienna can give good things that cost them nothing, as archbishoprics, bishoprics, besides corrupting their ministers and favorite with places.
I think you've figured out the real reason for Mr. Keith’s mission; but from a rumor I've heard since, Keith is actually leaning towards going to Turin as the Charge d’Affaires. I forgot to mention in my last message that I was almost certain that as soon as you get back to Dresden, Keith will make his exit. I truly believe they will keep their promises to me, as there’s no reason in the world why they shouldn't. I’ll send your annual payment to Mr. Larpent in two weeks and will pay the forty shillings a day quarterly if necessary; because, in my honest opinion, I doubt they will send a Charge d'Affaires. I agree with you that the saying goes, “no money, no Germans,” as was often said, and not without good reason, about the Swiss; but since we lack both the desire and, I fear, the resources to provide subsidies, the Court of Vienna can offer valuable things that cost them nothing, like archbishoprics, bishoprics, and by bribing their ministers and favorites with positions.
Elections here have been carried to a degree of frenzy hitherto unheard of; that for the town of Northampton has cost the contending parties at least thirty thousand pounds a side, and——————-has sold his borough of————-, to two members, for nine thousand pounds. As soon as Wilkes had lost his election for the city, he set up for the county of Middlesex, and carried it hollow, as the jockeys say. Here were great mobs and riots upon that occasion, and most of the windows in town broke, that had no lights for WILKES AND LIBERTY, who were thought to be inseparable. He will appear, the 10th of this month, in the Court of King’s Bench, to receive his sentence; and then great riots are again expected, and probably will happen. God bless you!
Elections here have reached a level of chaos never seen before; the one for the town of Northampton has cost both sides at least thirty thousand pounds each, and —————— has sold his borough of ————— to two members for nine thousand pounds. As soon as Wilkes lost his election for the city, he ran for the county of Middlesex and won easily, as jockeys would say. There were huge crowds and riots during that time, and most of the windows in town were broken if they didn’t have signs for WILKES AND LIBERTY, which were considered to go together. He will appear in the Court of King’s Bench on the 10th of this month to receive his sentence, and more riots are expected to break out again. God bless you!
LETTER CCCX
BATH, October 17, 1768.
MY DEAR FRIEND. Your last two letters, to myself and Grevenkop, have alarmed me extremely; but I comfort myself a little, by hoping that you, like all people who suffer, think yourself worse than you are. A dropsy never comes so suddenly; and I flatter myself, that it is only that gouty or rheumatic humor, which has plagued you so long, that has occasioned the temporary swelling of your legs. Above forty years ago, after a violent fever, my legs swelled as much as you describe yours to be; I immediately thought that I had a dropsy; but the Faculty assured me, that my complaint was only the effect of my fever, and would soon be cured; and they said true. Pray let your amanuensis, whoever he may be, write an account regularly once a-week, either to Grevenkop or myself, for that is the same thing, of the state of your health.
MY DEAR FRIEND. Your last two letters, to me and Grevenkop, have really worried me; but I find some comfort in hoping that you, like many others who are suffering, think you're worse off than you actually are. A dropsy doesn't happen suddenly; and I like to think that it’s just that gouty or rheumatic issue that has bothered you for so long, causing the temporary swelling in your legs. Over forty years ago, after a bad fever, my legs swelled up just like you describe yours. I immediately thought I had dropsy, but the doctors assured me that it was just a result of my fever and would soon heal, and they were right. Please have your assistant, whoever that may be, write a weekly update on your health, either to Grevenkop or me; it doesn’t matter which.
I sent you, in four successive letters, as much of the Duchess of Somerset’s snuff as a letter could well convey to you. Have you received all or any of them? and have they done you any good? Though, in your present condition, you cannot go into company, I hope that you have some acquaintances that come and sit with you; for if originally it was not good for man to be alone, it is much worse for a sick man to be so; he thinks too much of his distemper, and magnifies it. Some men of learning among the ecclesiastics, I dare say, would be glad to sit with you; and you could give them as good as they brought.
I sent you, in four separate letters, as much of the Duchess of Somerset’s snuff as I could fit into them. Have you received any of them? Did they help you at all? Even though you can't socialize in your current condition, I hope you have some friends who come by to visit you; because while it wasn’t good for man to be alone in the beginning, it’s even worse for someone who’s sick. When you’re alone, you tend to focus too much on your illness and make it seem worse than it is. I'm sure some knowledgeable people from the church would be happy to keep you company, and you’d hold your own in conversation with them.
Poor Harte, who is here still, is in a most miserable condition: he has entirely lost the use of his left side, and can hardly speak intelligibly. I was with him yesterday. He inquired after you with great affection, and was in the utmost concern when I showed him your letter.
Poor Harte, who is still here, is in a really bad state: he has completely lost the use of his left side and can barely speak clearly. I visited him yesterday. He asked about you with a lot of love and was very upset when I showed him your letter.
My own health is as it has been ever since I was here last year. I am neither well nor ill, but UNWELL. I have in a manner lost the use of my legs; for though I can make a shift to crawl upon even ground for a quarter of an hour, I cannot go up or down stairs, unless supported by a servant. God bless you and grant you a speedy recovery!
My health is the same as it was when I was here last year. I'm neither fully well nor sick, but I'm not great. I've somewhat lost the use of my legs; I can manage to crawl on flat ground for about fifteen minutes, but I can't go up or down stairs without help from someone. Wishing you a quick 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.
NOTE.—This is the final letter from Lord Chesterfield to his son, Mr. Philip Stanhope, who passed away in November 1768. The shocking and upsetting news was delivered by the woman Mr. Stanhope had been married to for several years, without his father's knowledge. When Lord Chesterfield found out that the widow had two sons from this marriage, he decided to take responsibility for his grandchildren's care. The following letters illustrate how well the writer adjusted to this challenging circumstance.
LETTER CCCXI
TO MRS. STANHOPE, THEN AT PARIS
LONDON, March 16, 1769.
LONDON, March 16, 1769.
MADAM: A troublesome and painful inflammation in my eyes obliges me to use another hand than my own to acknowledge the receipt of your letter from Avignon, of the 27th past.
MADAM: A bothersome and painful irritation in my eyes forces me to have someone else acknowledge the receipt of your letter from Avignon, dated the 27th of last month.
I am extremely surprised that Mrs. du Bouchet should have any objection to the manner in which your late husband desired to be buried, and which you, very properly, complied with. All I desire for my own burial is not to be buried alive; but how or where, I think must be entirely indifferent to every rational creature.
I’m really surprised that Mrs. du Bouchet has any issues with how your late husband wanted to be buried, especially since you followed his wishes correctly. As for my own burial, all I hope for is not to be buried alive; but how or where it happens doesn’t really matter to any sensible person.
I have no commission to trouble you with, during your stay at Paris; from whence, I wish you and the boys a good journey home, where I shall be very glad to see you all; and assure you of my being, with great truth, your faithful, humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
I have no task to burden you with while you're in Paris; from there, I wish you and the boys a safe trip home, where I’ll be very happy to see you all; and I assure you of my genuine loyalty, your faithful, humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXII
TO THE SAME, AT LONDON
MADAM: The last time that I had the pleasure of seeing you, I was so taken up in playing with the boys that I forgot their more important affairs. How soon would you have them placed at school? When I know your pleasure as to that, I will send to Monsieur Perny, to prepare everything for their reception. In the meantime, I beg that you will equip them thoroughly with clothes, linen, etc., all good, but plain; and give me the account, which I will pay; for I do not intend that, from, this time forward the two boys should cost you one shilling. I am, with great truth, Madam, your faithful, humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
MADAM: The last time I had the pleasure of seeing you, I was so caught up playing with the boys that I forgot about their more important matters. How soon would you like them to be enrolled in school? Once I know your preference on that, I'll contact Monsieur Perny to get everything ready for their arrival. In the meantime, please make sure they have all the appropriate clothes, linens, etc., all good but simple, and send me the bill, which I will pay; I don’t want the two boys to cost you a penny from now on. I am, with sincere respect, Madam, your faithful and humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXIII
MADAM: As some day must be fixed for sending the boys to school, do you approve of the 8th of next month? By which time the weather will probably be warm and settled, and you will be able to equip them completely.
MADAM: Since we need to choose a day to send the boys to school, do you think the 8th of next month works? By then, the weather should be warm and stable, and you’ll be able to get them fully prepared.
I will upon that day send my coach to you, to carry you and the boys to Loughborough House, with all their immense baggage. I must recommend to you, when you leave them there, to suppress, as well as you can, the overgrowings of maternal tenderness; which would grieve the poor boys the more, and give them a terror of their new establishment. I am, with great truth, Madam, your faithful, humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
I will send my car for you on that day to take you and the boys to Loughborough House, along with all their huge baggage. I suggest that when you drop them off, you try your best to hold back on the overwhelming maternal affection; it would only upset the boys more and make them anxious about their new home. I am, sincerely, your faithful servant, CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXIV
BATH, October 11, 1769.
MADAM: Nobody can be more willing and ready to obey orders than I am; but then I must like the orders and the orderer. Your orders and yourself come under this description; and therefore I must give you an account of my arrival and existence, such as it is, here. I got hither last Sunday, the day after I left London, less fatigued than I expected to have been; and now crawl about this place upon my three legs, but am kept in countenance by many of my fellow-crawlers; the last part of the Sphinx’s riddle approaches, and I shall soon end, as I began, upon all fours.
MADAM: No one is more willing and ready to follow instructions than I am; however, I need to actually like the instructions and the person giving them. Your instructions and you fit that description, so I should give you a brief update on my arrival and my current situation here. I got here last Sunday, the day after I left London, and I was less exhausted than I thought I would be. Now I move around this place on my three legs, but I’m encouraged by many of my fellow travelers; the last part of the Sphinx’s riddle is nearing, and soon I'll end up, just like I started, back on all fours.
When you happen to see either Monsieur or Madame Perny, I beg you will give them this melancholic proof of my caducity, and tell them that the last time I went to see the boys, I carried the Michaelmas quarterage in my pocket; and when I was there I totally forgot it; but assure them, that I have not the least intention to bilk them, and will pay them faithfully the two quarters together, at Christmas.
When you see either Mr. or Mrs. Perny, please give them this sad reminder of my frailty and let them know that the last time I visited the boys, I had the Michaelmas payment in my pocket, but I completely forgot about it while I was there. However, reassure them that I have no intention of avoiding my debt and will pay them the two quarters together at Christmas.
I hope our two boys are well, for then I am sure you are so. I am, with great truth and esteem, your most faithful, humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
I hope our two boys are doing well because that means you are too. I am, with great sincerity and respect, your most faithful and humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXV
BATH, October 28, 1769.
MADAM: Your kind anxiety for my health and life is more than, in my opinion, they are both worth; without the former the latter is a burden; and, indeed, I am very weary of it. I think I have got some benefit by drinking these waters, and by bathing, for my old stiff, rheumatic limbs; for, I believe, I could now outcrawl a snail, or perhaps even a tortoise.
MADAM: Your genuine concern for my health and life means much more to me than I think either is worth; without good health, life feels like a burden, and honestly, I’m very tired of it. I believe I've benefited from drinking these waters and bathing for my old, stiff, rheumatic limbs; I think I could now crawl slower than a snail, or maybe even a tortoise.
I hope the boys are well. Phil, I dare say, has been in some scrapes; but he will get triumphantly out of them, by dint of strength and resolution. I am, with great truth and esteem, your most faithful, humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
I hope the guys are doing well. Phil has definitely been in some tough situations, but he'll manage to get through them thanks to his strength and determination. I am, with sincerity and respect, your loyal and humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXVI
BATH, November 5, 1769.
MADAM: I remember very well the paragraph which you quote from a letter of mine to Mrs. du Bouchet, and see no reason yet to retract that opinion, in general, which at least nineteen widows in twenty had authorized. I had not then the pleasure of your acquaintance: I had seen you but twice or thrice; and I had no reason to think that you would deviate, as you have done, from other widows, so much as to put perpetual shackles upon yourself, for the sake of your children. But (if I may use a vulgarism) one swallow makes no summer: five righteous were formerly necessary to save a city, and they could not be found; so, till I find four more such righteous widows as yourself, I shall entertain my former notions of widowhood in general.
MADAM: I remember the paragraph you quoted from my letter to Mrs. du Bouchet, and I still stand by that opinion, which at least nineteen out of twenty widows supported. I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing you then; I had only seen you a couple of times, and I had no reason to believe you would differ from other widows by putting lifelong restrictions on yourself for the sake of your children. But (if I can use a common expression) one swallow doesn’t make a summer: it once took five righteous people to save a city, but they couldn’t be found; so, until I come across four more righteous widows like you, I will maintain my previous views on widowhood in general.
I can assure you that I drink here very soberly and cautiously, and at the same time keep so cool a diet that I do not find the least symptom of heat, much less of inflammation. By the way, I never had that complaint, in consequence of having drank these waters; for I have had it but four times, and always in the middle of summer. Mr. Hawkins is timorous, even to minutia, and my sister delights in them.
I can assure you that I drink here very responsibly and carefully, and at the same time maintain such a balanced diet that I don’t experience the slightest sign of heat, let alone inflammation. By the way, I’ve never had that issue from drinking these waters; I’ve only had it four times, and always in the middle of summer. Mr. Hawkins is anxious, even about the smallest details, and my sister enjoys them.
Charles will be a scholar, if you please; but our little Philip, without being one, will be something or other as good, though I do not yet guess what. I am not of the opinion generally entertained in this country, that man lives by Greek and Latin alone; that is, by knowing a great many words of two dead languages, which nobody living knows perfectly, and which are of no use in the common intercourse of life. Useful knowledge in my opinion consists of modern languages, history, and geography; some Latin may be thrown into the bargain, in compliance with custom, and for closet amusement.
Charles will be an academic, if you like; but our little Philip, without being one, will turn out to be something just as good, though I’m not sure yet what that will be. I don’t share the common belief in this country that a person’s life depends solely on Greek and Latin; that is, on just knowing a lot of words from two dead languages, which no one today knows perfectly and which aren’t useful in everyday life. In my view, valuable knowledge includes modern languages, history, and geography; some Latin can be added for tradition’s sake and for personal interest.
You are, by this time, certainly tired with this long letter, which I could prove to you from Horace’s own words (for I am a scholar) to be a bad one; he says, that water-drinkers can write nothing good: so I am, with real truth and esteem, your most faithful, humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
You must be pretty tired of this long letter by now, which I could even show you is poorly written using Horace’s own words (because I'm a scholar); he says that people who only drink water can't write anything good. So, I am, with all honesty and respect, your most loyal and humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXVII
BATH, October 9, 1770.
MADAM: I am extremely obliged to you for the kind part which you take in my health and life: as to the latter, I am as indifferent myself as any other body can be; but as to the former, I confess care and anxiety, for while I am to crawl upon this planet, I would willingly enjoy the health at least of an insect. How far these waters will restore me to that, moderate degree of health, which alone I aspire at, I have not yet given them a fair trial, having drank them but one week; the only difference I hitherto find is, that I sleep better than I did.
MADAM: I truly appreciate your concern for my health and well-being. As for the latter, I feel as indifferent as anyone else might, but regarding my health, I admit I do feel anxious. As long as I’m here on this planet, I would happily settle for the health of an insect. I’m not sure how much these waters will help me regain the moderate level of health I’m aiming for, as I haven’t really given them a fair shot yet—I’ve only been drinking them for a week. The only difference I’ve noticed so far is that I’m sleeping better than I was.
I beg that you will neither give yourself, nor Mr. Fitzhugh, much trouble about the pine plants; for as it is three years before they fruit, I might as well, at my age, plant oaks, and hope to have the advantage of their timber: however, somebody or other, God knows who, will eat them, as somebody or other will fell and sell the oaks I planted five-and-forty years ago.
I ask that you and Mr. Fitzhugh don’t stress too much about the pine plants; since it takes three years for them to bear fruit, I might as well, at my age, plant oaks and hope to benefit from their timber. Still, someone, God knows who, will eat them, just like someone will chop down and sell the oaks I planted forty-five years ago.
I hope our boys are well; my respects to them both. I am, with the greatest truth, your faithful and humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
I hope our boys are doing well; please send my regards to both of them. I am, with utmost sincerity, your loyal and humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXVIII
BATH, November 4,1770
MADAM: The post has been more favorable to you than I intended it should, for, upon my word, I answered your former letter the post after I had received it. However you have got a loss, as we say sometimes in Ireland.
MADAM: The post has been more beneficial to you than I meant it to be, because I swear I replied to your previous letter the very next day after I got it. However, you have taken a hit, as we sometimes say in Ireland.
My friends from time to time require bills of health from me in these suspicious times, when the plague is busy in some parts of Europe. All I can say, in answer to their kind inquiries, is, that I have not the distemper properly called the plague; but that I have all the plague of old age and of a shattered carcass. These waters have done me what little good I expected from them; though by no means what I could have wished, for I wished them to be ‘les eaux de Jouvence’.
My friends sometimes ask me for health updates during these uncertain times when the plague is affecting some parts of Europe. All I can tell them in response to their thoughtful questions is that I don't have the actual plague, but I do feel the toll of old age and a worn-out body. These springs have provided the slight improvement I anticipated, although not nearly what I had hoped for, as I wished they could be like the Fountain of Youth.
I had a letter, the other day, from our two boys; Charles’ was very finely written, and Philip’s very prettily: they are perfectly well, and say that they want nothing. What grown-up people will or can say as much? I am, with the truest esteem, Madam, your most faithful servant. CHESTERFIELD.
I received a letter the other day from our two boys; Charles’ was very well written, and Philip’s was very nicely done. They are both doing great and say they don’t need anything. What adults can honestly say the same? I remain, with the utmost respect, Madam, your most faithful servant. CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXIX
BATH, October 27,1771.
MADAM: Upon my word, you interest yourself in the state of my existence more than I do myself; for it is worth the care of neither of us. I ordered my valet de chambre, according to your orders, to inform you of my safe arrival here; to which I can add nothing, being neither better nor worse than I was then.
MADAM: Honestly, you care about my well-being more than I do; it’s not worth the trouble for either of us. I had my servant, as you requested, let you know that I arrived here safely, and that's all I can say, as I’m neither better nor worse than I was before.
I am very glad that our boys are well. Pray give them the inclosed.
I’m really glad our boys are doing well. Please give them the enclosed.
I am not at all surprised at Mr.———‘s conversion, for he was, at seventeen, the idol of old women, for his gravity, devotion, and dullness. I am, Madam, your most faithful, humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
I’m not surprised at Mr.———’s change of heart, because at seventeen, he was adored by older women for his seriousness, commitment, and boring nature. I am, Madam, your most faithful and humble servant, CHESTERFIELD.
LETTER CCCXX
TO CHARLES AND PHILIP STANHOPE
I RECEIVED a few days ago two the best written letters that ever I saw in my life; the one signed Charles Stanhope, the other Philip Stanhope. As for you Charles, I did not wonder at it; for you will take pains, and are a lover of letters; but you, idle rogue, you Phil, how came you to write so well that one can almost say of you two, ‘et cantare pores et respondre parati’! Charles will explain this Latin to you.
I received a couple of the best-written letters I've ever seen in my life a few days ago; one was signed Charles Stanhope, and the other Philip Stanhope. Charles, I wasn't surprised because you put in the effort and love writing; but you, you lazy rogue, Phil, how did you manage to write so well that one could almost say of the two of you, ‘you can both sing and respond’? Charles will explain this Latin to you.
I am told, Phil, that you have got a nickname at school, from your intimacy with Master Strangeways; and that they call you Master Strangeways; for to be rude, you are a strange boy. Is this true?
I’ve heard, Phil, that you’ve got a nickname at school because of your closeness with Master Strangeways, and that they call you Master Strangeways; to be blunt, you are a strange kid. Is this true?
Tell me what you would have me bring you both from hence, and I will bring it you, when I come to town. In the meantime, God bless you both!
Tell me what you want me to bring you both from here, and I'll get it for you when I come to town. In the meantime, God bless you both!
CHESTERFIELD.
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
```html PG EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: A little knowledge can be dangerous A joker is similar to a fool A favor can turn into enmity, and an injury can create a friend Even the most capable people can sometimes act weakly Above all, avoid talking about yourself Above the trivial as below the significant and the secret He is never passionate or enthusiastic about trifles You must have complete control over your temper Avoid showing off your knowledge Ridiculous terms for fashionable vices Ridiculous stories from the last two centuries According to their interests and desires Familiar with books but completely unfamiliar with people Advice is rarely welcomed Advise those who do not speak well to remain silent A supporter of virtue, but not its bully Pretending to be unique or superior Pretentiousness in dress Pretentiousness in work Everyone has senses that need to be satisfied Always make the best out of the best, and never worsen the bad Always does more than he claims Always has a favorite word for the moment Always maintain eye contact when speaking I am still unwell; I can't help it! American Colonies Ancients and Moderns Worry about my health and life Often applauded without approval Tend to make them believe they are more important than they truly are Argumentative, polemical discussions Arrogant know-it-all The skill of pleasing is the most important As willing and eager to be pleased as anyone else Attributing great actions to the tiniest causes Agreeing, but without being servile or submissive Making statements instead of arguments Assigning deep motives to the shallowest actions Confidence and bravery When you feel a strong emotion, be silent until you can be gentle Attacked with ridicule and punished with contempt Pay attention to what you spend on, but not the amounts Focus on the content of books Attention and politeness please everyone Attention The author is obscure and difficult in his own language Authority Avoid noisy distractions, and also monotony which is nearly as bad Avoid being strange Clumsy mannerisms, awkward postures, and actions Don’t let events of life overly excite or depress you Be quiet until you can be gentle Everyone has the power to hurt him Being understandable is no longer in style Better not to pretend to understand than to respond It’s better to refuse a favor gracefully than grant it awkwardly The blindness of understanding is truly pitiable Bold, yet seems very modest Borough jobber Business should be well presentable, not artificially dressed Today's business is all about showing off, not being functional Being in business doesn’t exclude pleasures BUT EVERYONE WILL BELIEVE WHAT THEY THINK IS RIGHT They can hardly be said to see what they actually see Cannot comprehend them, or simply choose not to understand Cardinal Mazarin Cardinal Richelieu Cardinal de Retz Transforming cardinal virtues into weaknesses Be careful when making inferences You stop loving when you become disagreeable Be like a chameleon, adapting to every different situation Fictional characters that never existed are dull and flat Cheerful expression, but without laughter Casual conversations are useful to avoid inappropriate or serious topics Choose your pleasures for yourself Politeness means being willing to accommodate and help others Loudmouths succeed End things well, not with forced restraint Control your temper and your expressions To command with dignity, you must work hard to maintain it Engaging in hostile actions against the Graces Common sense, which is in fact very uncommon Clichéd observations Being in company is actually a constant negotiation Politeness Politeness for everyone’s opinion Politeness due to local customs Polite indulgence for people's weaknesses Hide all your knowledge carefully Concealed all the learning I had Conjectures pass for truths Conjectures fill the gap for knowledge we cannot obtain Connections Ignore dishonest people and tolerate fools Being aware of your own worth makes a wise person humble Awareness and a rightful pride in doing well Look at things from the worst perspective to show your expertise Contempt Contempt Contempt Don’t settle for mediocrity in anything Conversation is a shared and common resource Chatting is nearly as good as reading Talk respectfully with your subordinates, without being arrogant Dance to the tunes of those who play Visible darkness Makes definitive decisions on every topic Profound knowledge is often mixed with pedantry Deep knowledge without good manners is unwelcome Protected by arms, decorated with manners, and enhanced by laws Deserve a little, and you will receive just a little Desire to please is the main thing Wanting recognition from those worthy of praise Wanting to make you their friend Wanting to please Despaired about ever being able to repay Having enough skill to hide a truth without lying Guide them while appearing to be led by them There's always a difference between theory and real practice What seems like a difficulty often appears impossible Maintain dignity in pleasure just as you would in business It’s unpleasant to seem reserved, yet very risky not to be Unpleasant things can be done so agreeably that they almost obligate you Heated disputes Dissimulation is just about hiding our own truths Differentiate between pretending and concealing Distinguish between what is useful and what is merely interesting Treat others as you would want to be treated Avoid becoming overly obsessed with trivial matters Stay focused on what you’re actually doing Always stay active Do what you feel comfortable doing Never mistake the glitter of Tasso for Virgil’s gold Doesn’t give it to you, but imposes it instead Doing graciously what you cannot avoid doing Doing things that deserve to be chronicled Doing nothing is equivalent to being asleep Doing anything worthy of being recorded Doing things while concerned and embarrassed will go poorly Dress like the sensible people of your time Dress well, but don’t overdo it Dressed like the general fashionable crowd Ears are open, but judgment is lacking Relaxed without being careless Relaxed without being overly familiar Being careful with your time Either don’t think, or don’t like thinking Elegance in one language can translate into all Use your entire time wisely, something few people manage Make an effort to listen and understand all opinions Strive to please and accommodate others Seeing enemies as potential friends Enjoy all those benefits Equally reject rude contempt, as well as low envy and jealousy ERE YOUNG FOOLS SHALL PUSH YOU OFF THE STAGE Build a reputation for integrity and good manners Even when you are certain, appear slightly doubtful Every large gathering can become a MOB Every virtue has its counterpart in vice or weakness Everyone knows they understand religion and politics Every large gathering can become a mob Everyone pretends to have common sense EVERY DAY STILL FEELS LIKE THE FIRST Everyone has something they are good at Every situation has upsides and downsides Elevate the gentle in both men and women above the merely fashionable Expresses himself with more passion than style So tired of this silly world Eyes and ears are the only paths to the heart Keep your eyes and ears open, and your mouth mostly closed Sustain him while also benefiting from him Few understand love well Few can truly love or hate Few dare to disagree with established beliefs Nonsense stories that bring no information Fit to live—or not live at all Flattering people behind their backs Flattery of women Flattery Flexibility in conduct is essential in life Fools who can never have their illusions shattered Fools never notice when they are out of place Fabricate accusations against themselves Forgive, but don’t condone wrongdoing. Fortune favors the bold and the audacious Straightforward without being indiscreet Open, but without being indiscreet Open and genuine on the outside, but prudent on the inside Often turn enemies into friends, and friends into enemies Friendship often arises from very brief acquaintances Superficial, idle people whose time drags on their hands Frivolous curiosity into trivial matters Frivolous and superficial arrogance Full-bottomed wigs were designed for his hunchback Win the heart, or you gain nothing Win affection alongside respect You benefit from your misfortunes General conclusions from specific details Generosity can often lead to wastefulness Stylish without pretension Gentlemen who are drawn to you at first sight Kindness of manners paired with a firm mind Studying geography and history separately is quite limited Germans who believe they understand French Dig deep into matters Good manners Good reasons often aren’t the true ones Good manners are the foundation of social life Nice company Good breeding Graces: Without us, all labor is futile Gratitude is neither universal nor common Serious without pretending to be wise Great knowledge; unless balanced with sound judgment A large crowd of people encourages one another The biggest fools are often the biggest liars Become wiser after it's too late Beware of those who flatter you most Habits and biases Regular eloquence Half done or half understood Numb to the needs and suffering of others Hardly anyone is suited for everything Haste and hurry are entirely different Have no pleasures except your own Have your own opinions and stick to them Have I used my time wisely, or wasted it? Rely on one set of jokes alone Have you learned to carve? He who is noble does noble deeds He will discover it on his own without your help The heart greatly influences the mind Provides assistance, but not as guidance The general public hardly thinks for themselves Historians Holiday eloquence Home, no matter how simple Genuine errors should be sympathized with, not mocked The most honest person loves themselves best Horace What a burden a long-term correspondent can be for a younger one How much you must accomplish in so little time Human nature never changes Hurt those they love due to misguided kindness I hope, I wish, I doubt, and fear in turn I will never know, although all the coffeehouses do. I will always love you as much as you deserve. I know myself (not common knowledge, let me assure you) I CANNOT DO THIS I, who am not prone to know anything I don’t already know Idleness is merely the refuge of weak minds If you’re free of guilt, be free of suspicion as well If you want to convince others, show that you can be convinced as well If I ignore his orders, he’ll ignore my drafts If you want to persuade, you must first please If we ever quarrel, I will never forgive Oblivious to their rights, they clung to their chains Insulting tradition and fashion Improve yourself with the wise, enjoy time with the young Being inactive at your age is inexcusable Laziness Lazy people claim they can’t do something Easily influenced by any kind of flattery Information can sometimes be embarrassing Knowledge suggests previous ignorance; it needs to be sweetened An injury is forgotten much faster than an insult Investigation Ingratiates himself with simpletons Dull in his pleasures as he is ineffective in other matters Insist on not either playing or fluting yourself Arrogantly polite INTOLERANCE in religious matters and inhospitable in civil affairs Value that is intrinsic, not just perceived It can be a real hassle for anyone to be overweight It's not enough just to do good; you also have to please well Jealous of being overlooked Get along like husband and wife; that is, rarely in agreement Judge every man’s truth by his level of understanding Judge them all based on their merits, not their ages Judges based on appearances, not reality Maintain your own temper while subtly influencing others’ Stick with good company, and people above your level Promote him to a higher position The king’s popularity is a better defense than his army Recognize their true value, and how much they tend to be overrated Understand the true value of time Know yourself and others Understanding how much you have and how little you need Knowing any language only partly Knowledge holds power in this respect Knowledge: either disregarded or believed to be sufficient A scholar’s knowledge with the manners of a courtier Known individuals pretend to have vices they do not possess Knows what is trivial and what is significant Labor is the unavoidable fatigue of a necessary journey Work more to inflate their egos The last beautiful touch that enhances the details Be careful about laughing; I must specifically warn you Establish a method for everything, and stick to it religiously A lazy mind and a trivial, superficial mind Learn to keep your own secrets Learn, if possible, the WHY and the WHEREFORE Leave whenever you are no longer welcomed Burdened more by small things than by large The less one has to do, the less time one finds Let me see more of you in your correspondences Let them enjoy their poor taste without interference Let no one find out that you know your own worth Let nothing pass by until you've understood it Let fools read what other fools wrote A life of ignorance is not only contemptible but also tiring Boredom and laziness are always to be condemned Small minds might mistake trivial things for significant ones Minor shortcomings and weaknesses Loud laughter belies the mob’s joy Love for those who seem most in love with them Loved without being looked down upon, and feared without being hated Being in lower company is falsely and brazenly called enjoyment Silly antics, or foolish incidents, always provoke laughter Luther’s greedy disappointment Machiavelli Made him think the world was created for him Distinguish clearly between companions and friends Transform into whatever he prefers, except a talented poet Make yourself indispensable Ensure everyone I meet likes me, and every woman loves me A man is dishonored by not reacting to an insult A man or woman cannot resist a charming exterior A wise person may be in a rush, but can never be hurried A person who only behaves well on holidays is of little use Mangles his own intentions Manner is as crucial as the matter How one does things can often be more important Manners should enhance knowledge Many things that seem very likely are actually false Many are eager, but very few are capable Mastery over one’s temper May you live as long as you’re capable, but no longer! May you prefer to die before you lose your capability for living Might not easily forget what was difficult to learn Mazarin and Louis XIV tightened the shackles Meditation and reflection Pure reason and common sense should never be addressed to a mob Real merit and good manners will always find a way Method Mistimes or misplaces everything Gentle, engaging words do not weaken your case MOB: Collectively, they have no understanding Moderation in your dealings with enemies Modesty is the only sure way to attract praise Money is often the source of much trouble More people want their ears entertained than have the judgment to evaluate The more you see, the less you marvel or admire The more you know, the humbler you should be The more effort one makes, the more likely they are to work Suffering from inferiority in knowledge, status, or wealth Most people take pleasure in the inferiority of their closest friends Most long-winded speakers tend to focus on one unlucky person in the crowd Generally, the most ignorant are the boldest speculators Most possess ears but few can discern; tickle those ears It's much easier to forgive a slight than an insult My health fluctuates, as always, but never improves Mysterious nonsense The name we leave behind in one place often precedes us National pride and interests have been sacrificed for personal gain Necessity of carefully maintaining appearances Ignore the little things, and they’ll abandon you when it matters most Neglecting this shows indifference towards pleasing others Neither know nor care (when I die), because I’m quite exhausted Neither the ability nor the words to summon a carriage Neither engage nor entertain gossip Would never seek to know anything not of their interest Never read history without maps Never adopt a persona based solely on common reputation Never blindly accept a persona based on hearsay Never seek wit; if it appears, embrace it Never speak about yourself at all Never waste a single minute in idleness Never abandon a topic until you master it completely Never argue passionately or with great noise Never appear wiser or more knowledgeable than those around you Never saw a rebellious child corrected by punishment Never entirely trust what others tell you Nipped early in development No significant regard for human testimony No one feels comfortable around a person they fear or a woman they cherish No one experiences pleasure without also providing it Gently slide down the hill of life rather than tumble down Avoid revealing your hopes or fears too soon Not only pure, but also, like Caesar’s wife, above suspicion Don’t worsen their lack by lamenting it Use no capital letters unnecessarily Don’t admire anything too much There should not be a minute in the day where you accomplish nothing Notes now exist for dances as well as for music Nothing in courts is precisely what it seems to be Few things are worth either desiring or fearing Nothing is more valuable than time, and it's unrecoverable once lost Observe without being seen as an observer It’s often more important to hide contempt than resentment It’s often necessary not to show everything you feel Sometimes necessary to act as though you are clueless about what you know More often guided by emotions than intellect An old man should appear wise, whether he is or not Sometimes you must concede to ultimately win Only focus on one task at a time Only because she won’t, not because she can’t Only solid and lasting peace exists between a husband and wife Minds often fall for the dupes of emotions Our light-hearted discussions on the weather or whist Outside appearances make them both rude and worthless Outward modesty in all endeavors Tend to overestimate what we don’t understand Oysters are only good in the months that have an 'R' Pretends to have wit, but possesses none distinct Patience is the only method to avoid worsening situations Patient acceptance of certain airs of superiority Cover your own expenses, but don't treat everyone Pay them with compliments, but not with trust People rarely desire everything until they have much People waste a lot of time by reading People will repay inattentiveness, with interest Those hunting for validation People detest those who overshadow them The perfect execution of anything worth doing Perseverance leads to surprising results A person towards whom I am quite indifferent, that is myself Spoiled and childish behavior is a lot too youthful Petty jury Clear ideas of right and wrong Nurtured as a child, this knowledge is now my refuge Please everyone worthy of pleasing; offend no one Somewhat pleased by showing an inclination to please Made them feel good by first making them feel good about themselves Being likable in social gatherings is the key to self-acceptance Mixing pleasure with business while remaining unengaged Pleasure must be mutual Pleasure tends to be the rock on which many young people struggle Pleasures rarely last any longer than life itself Keep all your knowledge with your timepiece Polite, but without annoying formalities and rigidity POLITICIANS DON’T LOVE OR HATE Favor meaningful conversations over frivolous ones Prejudices control us Pride never forgets The pride in being the most distinguished in a group Wise discretion Public speaking Invest your time wisely Quarrel with them only later for spoiling Calmly embraced misconceptions rather than seek the truth Read until I exhaust myself each day, so that I do not despair Read critically and with suspicion True merit will always be recognized Genuine friendship develops slowly Reason should guide everything, but it rarely does Reason, which should guide humanity, seldom does Receive them with great politeness but also a healthy dose of skepticism Mutually express desires that seldom exist Like an Epicurean, recommend pleasure to you Encourages self-reflection amongst all writers A refuge for individuals lacking their own wit or creativity Refuse more gracefully than others could grant Repeating Represent but don’t articulate Reserve yourself with friends Show respect without timidity Respectful without being cringeworthy, easy without excess familiarity Return the ball as you received it A rich man never borrows Richelieu came in and shackled the nation Rochefoucault, who I’m afraid, portrays humanity quite accurately Rochefoucault Rough edges that mere nature gave to even the smoothest Harmed their own child by what they termed love Maintain the same coolness and indifference in every situation In gossip, the receiver is often seen as bad as the thief Scarcely any flattery is too blatant for them to accept Hardly anyone is truly useless Used any means necessary to achieve his goals A secret that’s not dark and mysterious Secrets See what you see, and hear what you hear Pretend to agree with everything initially Seeming candor with genuine secrecy Pretending not to listen to the person speaking Feigning ignorance is wise Pretending to forget what you remember I trust my eyes much more than words to know people’s true feelings You can match great caution with apparent openness An accurate yet overly precise depiction of human nature Only engage with those who are trivial; take the serious seriously Trivial matters that concern you are not trivial to me Trivial aspects that come with their own little jargon Common jokes and loud laughter reduce him to a clown Speak the truth, but not the entire truth, as your constant principle Truth leaves no space for flattery Genuine silence on the subject is the only true middle ground Unreserved candor Unintelligible even to his readers, sometimes even to himself Unopened, as one of the titles has been omitted Doing something unwillingly will never be satisfying Use softening words when you counter It's useful at times to recognize things that should be avoided The value of moments collected is enormous Vanity, self-interest, and absurdity are always on display Vanity, a source of many of our foolishness Warm and youthful gratitude, not cold and aged Those who only drink water are incapable of writing anything worthwhile We prefer to be pleased rather than informed We possess many useful biases in this nation We will be feared, assuming we do not express our fears Well dressed, but not ostentatiously dressed What pleases you in others will generally please them in you What you like or dislike in others What you feel pleases you in them What have I accomplished today? What is truly impossible, and what is merely difficult Whatever delights you in others Whatever is worth doing is worth doing well Whatever you must do, do it with grace Whatever true merit you possess, others will identify it When dressed well for the day, think no more about it afterward When trying to win people over, remember that nothing is trivial Who learns from the fate of others? A wife is often heard, but seldom taken seriously Will not hint at our follies They will pay dearly for the ambitions and quarrels of a few I wish you, my dear friend, as many happy New Years as you deserve Wit may create admirers but few real friends Witty without being sarcastic or cliché A woman like her, who frequently pleases and has often been pleased Women solely refine the worth of men Women usually select their favorites more by their ears Women are all intrinsically Machiavellian Words are garments for thoughts The world is judged by appearances Would keep to themselves what they do not understand Engrossed in complex reflections Composing that which deserves attention Writing something that deserves to be read Grievances can often be forgiven, but disdain never is Accepted mostly without conviction You must be honorable to earn respect You should better remain silent than engage in their words Young people tend to overestimate men and things alike A young man should be wiser than he appears to be Young women often believe they are clever enough Your worth and your manners alone can elevate you Your reputation here, whatever it may be, will reach you there ```
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