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203

Rights of People, or of Individuals; but rather diffeus 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 confit in little commercial play at cards, in good company? are they little agreeable fuppers, at which chearfulnefs 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 pollish you? Make me your confidant upon this subject; you shall not find a severe cenfor: on the contrary, I wish to obtain the employment of minifter to your pleafures: I will point them out, and even contribute to them.

Many young people adopt pleafures, for which they have not the least taſte, only becauſe they are called by that name. They often miftake ſo totally, as to imagine, that debauchery is pleaſure. You muſt allow, that drunkenneſs, which is equally deſtruſtive to body and mind, is a fine pleaſure. Gaming, that draws you into a thouſand ſcapes, leaves you pennyleſs, and gives you the air and manners of an outrageous madman, is another moſt exquifite pleaſure; is it not? As to running after women, the conſequences of that vice are only the loſs of one's noſe, the total deſtruſion of health, and, not unfrequently, the being run through the body.

Theſe, you fee, are all trifles: yet this is the catalogue of pleaſures of moſt of thoſe young people, who, never reflecting themſelves, adopt, indifferimately, what others chufe 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 bounds of moderation; good company, that is to ſay, people of merit; moderate play, which amuſes, without any inte-

reſter

6

TO HISSON.

209

reſed views; and ſprightly, gallant converſations, with women of fashion and ſenſe.

Theſe are the real pleaſures of a gentleman; which occasion neither ſickneſs, ſhame, nor repentance. Whatever exceeds them, becomes low vice, brutal pafſion, debauchery, and inſanity of mind; all of which, far from giving ſatisfaction, bring on diſhonour and diſgrace. Adieu.

## LETTER LXXXVI.

London, March the 6th, 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 Laufanne, upon your ſubject; the one was 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 deferve 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 *décrotté*, but tolerably well-bred; and that the English cruſt of awkward bafthulneſs, 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 eſay good-breeding, a genteel behaviour and addreſs, are of infinitely more advantage, than they are generally thought to be, eſpecially here in England. Virtue and learning, like gold,

VOL. I.

Ee

have

210 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS

have their intrinsic value; but if they are not polifhed, they certainly lose a great deal of their luftre: and even polifhed brafs will pafs upon more people than rough gold. What a number of fins does the chearful, eafy good-breeding of the French frequently cover ? Many of them want common fenfe, many more common learning; but, in general, they make up so much, by their manner, for those defects, that, frequently, they pafs undiscovered. I have often faid, and do think, that a Frenchman, who, with a fund of virtue, learning, and good fenfe, has the manners and good-breeding of his country, is the perfection of human nature. This perfection you may, if you pleafe, 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 miferable is the man who has it not. Good fenfe, God has given you. Learning, you already poffefs 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 neceffary 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 fenfible you are of their partiality to you, in the advantageous teftimonies which, you are informed, they have given of you here.

Adieu! Continue to deferve such teftimonies; and then you will not only deferve, but enjoy, my trueft affection.

LETTER

TO HIS SON.

211

LETTER LXXXVII.

London, March the 27th, O. S. 1747.

DEAR BOY,

PLEASURE is the rock which moft young people fplit upon; they launch out with crowded fails in queft of it, but without a compafs to direct their courfe, or reafon sufficient to fteer the veſſel; for want of which, pain and ſhame, inſtead of Pleafure, are the returns of their voyage. Do not think that I mean to ſnarl at Pleafure, like a Stoic, or to preach againſt it, like a Parfon; no, I mean to point it out, and recommend it to you, like an Epicurean : I wifh you a great deal; and my only view is to hinder you from miftaking 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 confulting their own taſte and inclinations, they blindly adopt whatever thofe, with whom they chiefly converſe, are pleafed to call by the name of Pleasure; and a *Man of Pleasure*, in the vulgar accepfation of that phraſe, means only, a beaſtly drunkard, an abandoned whore-mafter, and a profligate ſwearer and curſer. As it may be of uſe to you, I am not unwilling, though at the fame time alhamed, to own, that the vices of my youth proceeded much more from my filly 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 fickneſs the next day, only becauſe I then confidered drinking as a neceſſary qualification for a fine gentleman, and a Man of Pleasure.

The fame as to gaming. I did not want money, and confec-

E c 2

quently

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212

quently 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 uneasily by it, for thirty the best years of my life.

I was even absurd enough, for a little while, to swear, by way of adorning and completing the thinning character which I affected; but this folly I soon laid aside, upon finding both the guilt and the indecency of it.

Thus seduced by fashion, and blindly adopting nominal pleatures, I loft real ones; and my fortune impaired, and my constitution shattered, are, I must confess, the just punishment of my errors.

Take warning then by them; chuse your pleatures for yourself, and do not let them be impeded upon you. Follow nature, and not fashion: weigh the present enjoyment of your pleatures, against the necessary consequences of them, and then let your own common sense determine your choice.

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 pleasure. I would enjoy the pleatures of the table, and of wine; but stop short of the pains inseparably annexed to an excess in either. I would not, at twenty years, be a preaching miffionary of abominable habits and sobriety; and I should let other people do as they would, without formally and fententiouly rebuking them for it; but I would be moft firmly resolved, not to deftroy my own faculties and conftitution, in complaifance to thofe 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 fums, which, if I won, I should not be the

better

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TO HIS SON.

213

better for; but, if I loft, 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 occafions.

I would pafs some of my time in reading, and the reft in the company of people of fense and learning, and chiefly thofe above me: and I would frequent the mixed companies of men and women of fashion, which though often frivolous, yet they unbend and refrefh the mind, not uſelesſly, because they certainly pollish and soften the manners.

These would be my pleatures and amusements, if I were to live the laft 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 pleatures of what I call people of fashion, but of thofe who only call themſelves fo. Does good company care to have a man reeling drunk among them? Or to fee another tearing his hair, and blaſpheming, for having loft, at play, more than he is able to pay? Or a whores-mafter with half a noſe, and crippled by coarſe and infamous debauchery? No; thofe who practice, and much more thofe 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 pleasure obſerves decency; at leaſs, neither borrows nor affects vices; and, if he unfortunately has any, he gratifies them with choice, delicacy, and fecrecy.

I have not mentioned the pleatures of the mind, (which are the ſolid and permanent ones) because they do not come under the head of what people commonly call pleatures; which they deem to confine to the ſenſes. The pleasure of virtue, of charity, and of learning, is true and laſting pleasure; which I hope you will be well and long acquainted with. Adieu.

LETTER

LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS

LETTER LXXXVIII.

London, April the 3d, 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 waifcoat, 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 showifh binding attracts the eyes, and engages the attention of every body; but with this difference, that women, and men who are like women, mind the binding more than the book; whereas men of fense and learning immediately examine the infide; and, if they find that it does not answer the finery on the outfide, 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, confitency,固olidity, and ſpirit, in it. Mr. Harte may recenſere and emendare, as much as he pleafes; but it will be to little purpofe, if you do not co-operate with him. The work will be imperfect.

I thank you for your laſt information, of our ſucces 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 like your account of the ſalt-works; which ſhows that you gave ſome attention while you were feeing them. But, notwithſtanding

TO HIS SON.

ſtanding 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 deli- eacy. That fame Attic ſalt feaſoned almost all Greece, except Bœotia; and a great deal of it was exported afterwards to Rome, where it was counterfeited by a compoſition called Urbanity, which in ſome time was brought to very near the perſection 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 reſiſhed.

Adieu! My compliments to Mr. Harte and Mr. Eliot.

LETTER LXXXIX.

London, April the 14th, O. S. 1747.

DEAR BOY,

IF you feel half the pleasure from the confiouſneſs of doing well, that I do from the informations I have lately received in your favour from Mr. Harte; I ſhall have little occafion 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 inſcrease, 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 fame 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

216 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS

I mean that you should have your pleatures 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 or satisfaction from either. A man is fit for neither
bufinefs nor pleasure, who either cannot, or does not, command
and direct his attention to the preſent object, and, in some degree,
banifh, for that time, all other objects from his thoughts. If at a
ball, a fupper, or a party of pleasure, a man were to be folving,
in his own mind, a problem in Euclid, he would be a very bad com-
panion, and make a very poor figure in that company; or if, in
fludyng a problem in his clofet, 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 every thing, 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
bufineſs of the Republic, and yet had time left to go to affembles
in the evening, and ſup in company. Being affked, how he could
poffibly find time to go through ſo much bufineſs, and yet amufe
himſelf in the evenings as he did? he anſwered, There was
nothing ſo eafy; for that it was only doing one thing at a time,
and never putting off any thing till to-morrow, that could be
done to-day. This fteady and undifſipated attention to one ob-
ject, is a ſure mark of a ſuperior genius; as hurry, bufſle, 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 diſion, and the beauty of his poetry;
and do not think of Puffendorf de Homine et 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.

Mr.

TO HIS SON.

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 defer it. I ſhall grudge
you nothing, nor ſhall you want any thing, that you define, pro-
vided you defer it: ſo that, you fee, it is in your own power to
have whatever you pleafe.

There is a little book which you read here with Monfieur
Coderc, entitled, *Maniere de bien penfer dans les ouvrages d'efprit,
written by Pere Bouhours. I wifh you would read this book
again, at your leifure hours; for it will not only divert you, but
likewise form your taſte, and give you a juſt manner of think-
ing. Adieu !

LETTER XC.

London, June the 30th, O. S. 1747.

DEAR BOY,

I
Was extremely pleafed with the account, which you gave me
in your laſt, of the civilities that you received in your
Swifs progreſs; and I have written, by this poſt, to Mr. Burnaby,
and to the *Avoyer*, to thank them for their parts. If the atten-
tion you met with pleafed you, as I dare ſay it did, you will, I
hope, draw this general conclufion from it, That attention and
civility pleafe all thofe to whom they are paid; and that you will
pleafe others, in proportion as you are attentive and civil to
them.

Bifhop Burnet has wrote his travels through Switzerland; and
Mr. Stanyan, from a long refidence there, has written the beſt ac-
count, yet extant, of the thirteen Cantons; but thofe books will
be read no more, I prefume, after you ſhall have publiſhed your

ff

account

218 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS

account of that country. I hope you will favour 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 num-
ber of houses, inhabitants, fign-pofts, and tomb-stones 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
who it belongs to, or in what manner; whether it has any pecu-
liar privileges or cuftoms; what trade or manufactures; and fuch
other particulars as people of fenfe desire to know. And there
would be no manner of harm, if you were to take memorandums
of fuch things, in a paper book, to help your memory. The only
way of knowing all thefe things is, to keep the beſt company,
who can beſt inform you of them.

I am juſt now called away; fo good-night!

LETTER XCI.

London, July the 20th O. S. 1747-

DEAR BOY,

IN your Mamma's letter, which goes here encloſed, you will
find one from my ſifter, to thank you for the Arquebufade
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 wifhes and good advice; and, as I know ſhe will
ſhow your letter, in anſwer to her's, I ſend you here encloſed the
draught of the letter which I would have you write to her. I
hope

TO HIS SON.

219

hope you will not be offended at my offering you my afflance
upon this occafion: becauſe, I prefume, 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, Car-
dinal d'Offat, Madame Sevigné, and Comte Buſſy Rabutin,
Cicero's Epiftles 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 clearneſs of Cardinal d'Offat's letters,
ſhow how letters of buſineſs ought to be written: no affected turns,
no attempt at wit, obſcure or perplex his matter; which is always
plainly and clearly ſtated, as buſineſs always ſhould be. For gay
and amufing letters, for *enjouement* and *badinage*, there are none
that equal Comte Buſſy's and Madame Sevigné'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 amufe and in-
form you.

I have not time to add any more now; fo good night.

LETTER XCII.

London, July the 30th, 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 fuppofe are by this
time finifhed.

You will have found by my late letters, both to you and to Mr.

F f 2

Harte;

220

LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS

Harte; that you are to be at Leipzig by next Michaelmas; where
you will be lodged in the houfe of Professor Maſcow, and boarded
in the neighbourhood of it, with some young men of fashion.
The Professor will read your 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 pleafe. I give you fair warning, that at Leipzig I shall have
an hundred invifible ſpies about you; and ſhall be exaſtly in-
formed of every thing that you do, and of almoſt every thing
that you ſay. I hope, that, in conſequence of thate minute
informations, I may be able to ſay of you, what Velleius Patcr-
culus ſays of Scipio; that in his whole life, nibil non laudandum
aut dixit, aut fecit aut ſenſit. There is a great deal of good com-
pany in Leipzig; which I would have you frequent in the even-
ings; when the ſtudies of the day are over. There is likewife a kind
of Court kept there, by a Dutchefs Dowager of Courland; at which
you ſhould get introduced. The King of Poland and his Court
go likewife to the fair at Leipzig, twice a year; and I ſhall write to
Sir Charles Williams, the King's Minifter there, to have you pre-
fented, and introduced into good company. But I muſt remind
you, at the fame time, that it will be to very little purpofe for
you to frequent good company, if you do not conform to, and
learn their manners; if you are not attentive to pleafe, and well-
bred with the eafineſs 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 drefſed, and genteel; to have no
difagreeable 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 wäßing them conſtantly
every

7

TO HIS SON.

221

every morning, and after every meal ? This is very neceſſary,
both to preferve 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 of your age. Do
you drefſe well, and not too well ? Do you confider your air and
manner of preſenting yourſelf, enough, and not too much ? nei-
ther negligent nor diff. All theſe things deferve a degree of care,
a ſecond-rate attention; they give an additional luſtre to real
merit. My Lord Bacon ſays, that a pleafing figure is a perpetual
letter of recommendation. It is certainly an agreeable forerunner
of merit, and fme smooths the way for it.

Remember that I ſhall fee you at Hanover next ſummer, and
ſhall expect perſection; which if I do not meet with, or at leaſt
fomething very near it, you and me ſhall not be very well toge-
ther. I ſhall diſſeet and analyſe you with a microſcope, ſo that I
ſhall diſover the leaſt ſpeck or blemiſh. This is fair warning;
therefore take your meaſures accordingly. Yours.

LETTER XCHII.

London, Auguſt the 7th, O. S. 1747.

DEAR BOY,

I
Reckon that this letter has but a bare chance of finding you
at Laufanne; but I was resolved to rilk it, as it is the laſt that
I ſhall write to you till you are ſettled at Leipzig. I ſent you
by the laſt poſt, under cover to Mr. Harte, a letter of recom-
mendation to one of the firſt people at Munich; which you will
take care to prefent to him in the politiſt manner: he will cer-
tainly have you prefented to the Electoral family; and I hope you
will go through that ceremony with great reſpect, good-breed-
ing,

LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS

222

ing, and cafe. 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 cour-
tefies, instead of bows, to the Emperor; in France, nobody bows
at all to the King, nor kiffes his hand; but, in Spain and Eng-
land, bows are made, and hands are kiffed. Thus every Court
has some peculiarity or other, which thate who go to them
ought previously to inform themselves of, to avoid blunders and
awkwardneſſes.

I have not time to fay any more now, than to wifh you a good
journey to Leipzig; and great attention, both there and in going
there. Adieu.

LETTER XCIV.

London, September 21st, O. S. 1747.

DEAR BOY,

I
Received, by the last poſt, your letter of the 8th, N. S. I
am very forry to find by it, that you are not well; but, as
I take it for granted, that your indisposition proceeds from having
eaten a prodigious quantity of fruit, I fuppofe you are quit of it,
for a Loofeneſs, which is the price that moſt people pay for the
autumn fruit.

I do not wonder that you were furprifed at the credulity and
superflition of the Papifts at Einfiedlen, and at their abfurd flories
of their chapel. But remember, at the fame time, that errors
and mistakes, however groſs, in matters of opinion, if they are
fincere, are to be pitied; but not punished, nor laughed at.
The blindneſs of the understanding is as much to be pitied, as the

blindneſs

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TO HIS SON.

223

blindneſs of the eyes; and there is neither jeſt nor guilt in a
man's loſing his way in either cafe. Charity bids us fet him
right, if we can, by arguments and perſuafions; but Charity, at
the fame time, forbids, either to puniſh or ridicule his misfor-
tune. Every man's reaſon is, and muſt be, his guide; and I
may as well expeſt, 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 thate 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 fin-
cerely 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 miffes of its aim in
every one of theſe views; for lies are always deteſted, 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 deteſted (and deteſted I moſt certainly ſhall be) I am
blaſted for the infamous attempt; and whatever is faſd afterwards,
to the disadvantage of that perſon, however true, paffes for ea-
lumny. If I lie, or equivocate, for it is the fame thing, in order
to excufe myſelf of ſomething that I have faſd or done, and to
avoid the danger or the ſhame that I apprehend from it, I
discover, at once, my fear, as well as my falſchood; and only
increaſe, inſtead of avoiding, the danger and the ſhame; I
how 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 conceaſed 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 at-
toning

toning

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toning for it, and the only way of being forgiven. Equivocating, evading, shuffling, in order to remove a present danger or inconvenience, is something so mean, and betrays so much fear, that whoever practises them, always defers 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 fuggesits, 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 honour 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 rid more miles of poft, 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 honour 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.

This letter will, I suppose, find you at Leipzig; 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 affured, that I have many eyes upon you at Leipzig, besides Mr. Harte's. Adieu!

LETTER

TO HIS SON.

225

LETTER XCV.

London, October the 2d, O. S. 1747.

DEAR BOY,

By your letter of the 18th pass, N. S. I find that you are a tolerable good landscape painter, and can prefent 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 colouring of the human figure; but the infide of the heart and mind of man. This science requires more attention, obfervation, and penetration, than the other; as indeed it is infinitely more useful. Search therefore, with the greatest care, into the characters of all those whom you converse with; endeavour to discover their predominant passions, their prevailing weaknesses, their vanities, their follies, and their humours; with all the right and wrong, wife and filly springs of human actions, which make such infidelient 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 duft of his closet talks or writes of the world, knows no more of it, than that Orator did of war, who judiciously endeavoured to infruct Hanibal in it. Courts and Camps are the only places to learn the world in. There alone all kinds of characters refort, and human nature is seen in all the various shapes and modes, which education, custom, and habit give it: whereas, in all other places, VOL. I. Gg one

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one local mode generally prevails, and produces a feeming, though not a real, famenefs of charaſter. For example, one general mode diſtinguiches an Univerſity, another a trading town, a third a ſea-port 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 fame all over the world; but its operations are ſo varied by education and habit, that one muſt ſee it in all its drefſes, in order to be inti- mately acquainted with it. The paſſion of ambition, for inſtance, is the fame 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 accom- modate and oblige others, is effentially the fame 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, affuſing the proper manner for each. It can be ſerious with the grave, chearful with the gay, and trifling with the frivolous. Endeavour, by all means, to ac- quire this talent, for it is a very great one.

As I hardly know any thing 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 your ſelf, drawn at Laufanne, 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.

LETTER

TO HIS SON.

227

LETTER XCVI.

DEAR BOY,

London, October the 9th, O. S. 1747.

PEOPLE of your age have, commonly, an unguarded frank- nefs about them; which makes them the eafy 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 proſection of ſimulated friendſhip, with an in- diſcreet and unbounded confidence, always to their loſs, often to their ruin. Beware, therefore, now that you are coming into the world, of theſe proſered 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 ſuppofe that people become your friends at firſt fight, or even upon a ſhort acquaintance. Real friend- ship is a flow grower; and never thrives, unleſs ingraſted upon a flock 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 fame course of riot and debauchery. A fine friendſhip, truly! and well cemented by drunkneſs and lewd- nefs. It should rather be called a confpiracy against morals and good manners, and be punished as ſuch by the civil Magiſtrate. However, they have the impudence, and the folly, to call this confederacy, a friendſhip. They lend one another money, for bad purpofes; they engage in quarrels, offenſive and defensive,

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